Each morning, Lucy faithfully prayed that God would see fit to bring her a proper breakfast. None of this egg and toast nonsense. She desired a breakfast of a saucer of milk, a meat bone, and coffee. But each morning, the same old nonsense was brought to her room by Nana.
She continually looked for an angel with a tray hovering over the end of her bed. When none ever appeared, she became determined to eat only the flowers; Kitty and Doggie would have to made do with toast, egg, and tea.
After a childhood of unfulfilled prayers, Lucy formed her own Church of the Proper Breakfast where morning miracles were possible. These materialized from the cosmos, she thought, never noticing that everything smelt a bit like brimstone and the bone tended to be slightly singed.
(c) Lorraine
Writing in the raw for Jane Dougherty’s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge 8.
April 11, 2017 at 8:06 pm
My lap cat would take the egg and toast of it’s buttered. She is domesticated after all. The brimstone might be a more exciting church to be in at times
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April 11, 2017 at 10:20 pm
Hot buttered toast and tea for your lapcat,hot times in the church for sure.
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April 11, 2017 at 10:23 pm
She’s not normal. And yet she is my girl. Strange
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April 11, 2017 at 10:24 pm
Any co-incidence, I wonder?
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April 11, 2017 at 10:26 pm
Completely random. Of course, I don’t believe in coincidences
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April 11, 2017 at 10:30 pm
Ah, must be part of chaos theory and fate.
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April 11, 2017 at 10:46 pm
It’s all chaos. Theory is how normal people rationalize that they have no control over certain things or everything
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April 11, 2017 at 9:04 am
OMG – this has me totally smiling in absolute glee! What a great twist and thoughts on this scene – highly original and creative – you’ve totally hit this right out of the park Lorraine – 4 🌠🌠🌠🌠
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April 11, 2017 at 11:24 am
Thank you Contessa!
I just had one of those goofy moments.
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April 11, 2017 at 12:11 pm
hope that you’re feeling fairly okay today …. pain wise and all that – and you can still call me Pat ;)
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April 11, 2017 at 1:37 pm
Ahh, no titles then. Understand.
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April 11, 2017 at 5:15 pm
LOL – well, it’s just that, it sounds a bit weird to my ears …. but I don’t mind, when I read it (and Jules called me the same) I suddenly have this semi-gothic macabre vision of myself in another era swooping down a grand staircase like an over-sized bat ;)
but as you wish :)
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April 11, 2017 at 5:35 pm
What an image . . .
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April 11, 2017 at 6:36 pm
LOL ….
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April 10, 2017 at 11:53 am
Very good questions to ponder — perhaps there is a diabolical streak to Lucy that she is in denial of. Old Nick might like cats and dogs — who knows. He might have a lap cat!
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April 10, 2017 at 9:57 am
An eminently ‘proper’ story :) Now what are we to make of that? Old Nick is rooting for our four-legged friends? Or that Lucy has diabolical tendencies, even down to her food preferences?
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