Beryl draped the second sandbag over the first, over the sign’s stand. Berylette, the imp perched on her right shoulder, whispered they’re peeling, the letters, peel them more, rearrange the letters, extend the tour.
On her left shoulder, Berylene threw her halo around the back of Beryl’s head, which caught on one of Berylette’s horns with a loud clang, before returning around the front of Beryl’s head like a circular boomerang. Berylene whispered you can’t do that, it‘s already too long, sending them that way will be wrong.
“Ladies! Ladies! Please! Be quiet!” Beryl shouted, mopping her brow and temporarily dislodging Berylette. “I’m not listening to either of you. I’m not opening the shortcut, ‘Ene, and I’m not making them go the long way around, ‘Ette. However, I am keeping hold of this third sandbag for my own personal collection. ”
Good idea, block the road, force a different path ne’er told, Berylette fizzed with joy.
Yes, for the beaver’s dam, I see, block the force of the swelling stream, Berylene began to glow whiter than white.
“No, neither. I’m still not listening to you. I’m keeping this one to use with the others and prop the doors open tomorrow morning to allow some cool air to flow through the house for once.”
Berylette and Berylene said nothing in agreement. Beryl knew that the only way for silencing her hot-headed consciences was to keep them cool, especially before working on the road. Sandbags at dawn being her latest idea.
The Unicorn Challenge, from Jenne Gray and C E Ayr : to post something up to 250 words using a picture provided by them as a prompt. This week, we visit Beryl. Remember Beryl? She’s somehow, bizarrely, got herself a job working on the roads. Unless this Beryl isn’t that Beryl. It seems unlikely, but that Beryl keeps popping up in the strangest of locations.
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Visit Jenne’s blog for more details on this challenge!
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The Mansionic Perspective 
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