Chuck Wendig holds a Flash Fiction Challenge each Friday, and this is the second time I’m participating.
Since drabbles are my current love, (and Chuck seems to have set no lower word limit) I’ve made it a drabble, based on the picture he has kindly provided us:
The Winner at the Ball
The only remarkable thing about Miranda was her voice like coarse sugar, which proved to be her undoing at the Annual Charity Halloweeen Ball. The minute she spoke they knew who she was. She never won any prizes.
One year she went clad in a fencing costume with the back of her head split open, dripping blood. Every time someone spoke to her, she coughed and removed a bloodied handkerchief from her lips.
Since no one wanted the handsome carpet ruined by too much blood, they declared the winner early. She went up to the dais, and fell down, quite dead.
