Finnian Burnett

Storyteller

Here’s a piece I was writing – it had to be 50 words and it had to contain a reference to wellies. I’m posting all three versions to show the thought process of trying to get through to an idea in such a short space.

Fiona’s wearing orange wellies. Orange, the ones I’d saved for after seeing them in the shop. She twirls in our mother’s cape, as she did all my life, before she stole my wellies and married James, back when we’d dance together and twirl breathlessly and swear we’d never ever stop.

Fiona’s wearing wellies, the orange ones I’d scrimped to buy. She dances in the rain, our mother’s cape billowing around her and James, looking almost as she did years ago before she stole my wellies and my husband, back when we’d dance together, twirling breathlessly like we’d never ever stop.

Fiona wears the orange wellies, my favourites. Dancing in the rain, our mother’s cape billowing, she looks like she did years ago before she stole my wellies and my husband, back when we always danced together, twirling breathlessly like we’d never stop. She reaches for me, but I spin away.

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