Nan measured out the dry ingredients. Humming, smiling, concentrating; her brittle hands added them to the egg and milk mixture on the counter-top.
Warm golden brown funnel cakes served with a dusting of sugar, her house smelling of county fairs and her granddaughter’s sticky fingers.
Nan waited, and waited. Alex never came.
Well, what did I tell you? Third place again at the Grammar Ghoul Press Shapeshifting 13 challenge!
|3rd:||WE HAVE A TIE! Obeseelephant of The Musings of an ObeseElephant with his piece To Love and Be Loved, a stunning poetic piece of understanding and acceptance. And Anusha of Some Thoughts, Many Words with her piece Reminiscence (with some funnel cakes), a story of longing after the protagonist has made the perfect batch of funnel cakes.|