Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy

Diary Pages: William Shakespeare

September 10th 2017 in Microfiction

In my fevered dreams, I attended a festival – a celebration of this incredible age. There were bright colors and music, exotic creatures, delicious fare, and games of chance and sport. Magic clung to every corner of this place and my heart raced to explore it, waking disappointed and longing to return.
Surely, the world could not abide its weariness if such a thing existed as a salve to dreariness. (Note: use this line in a play somewhere.)
Anne says that I am fanciful and full of rubbish (here, she looks into the chamber pot before she tosses it out of the window onto the street and lifts one eyebrow). “Oh, the magic! Oh, the romance of it all!” she bellows sarcastically. 

I sigh and turn away; I will not encourage her.


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