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Short Story Letter to Ann

I saw a short story challenge, where the writer was to write a short story in 650 words or less,

without using any of the usual anatomy words.

At the time it struck me, that the easiest way to avoid using the conventional words was to go

back to a time when people were much more polite and coy, before the internet, or the telephone

and when letter writing was the most likely way you would get a story off your chest.

I didn't enter the competition in the end, but I had the story so I posted it here :)

My dearest Ann,

I have just witnessed the most frightful scene. It was so terribly shocking that I just had to tell someone about it, I do hope you won’t object.

Johannes Vermeer - A Lady Writing
I was walking in the New Forest, wandering off the paths. I could hear some muffled mewls and I was certain it was baby animal abandoned by its mother so I went to investigate.

A picnic rug was laid out upon the carpet of golden autumn leaves. Atop the blanket were a handsome gentleman and a comely maiden. The maiden was mewling because (oh I can’t believe I’m going to relate this, it really is most shocking) said gentleman had his hand under his lady’s skirts.

I remained hidden behind some trees and watched the entire proceedings. The gentleman removed the lady’s entire clothing, yes all. He seemed to be terribly angry at her about something and she was quite distressed as he removed her under-garments I heard her clearly say:

“Oh no sir, I beg your indulgence, please not those.”

Hateful beast that he was, he ignored her pleas. Once bare, he stood her before him and scolded her so frightfully that the poor thing began to cry. He said that it was no matter if she was totally undressed as she had entirely lost her virtue last evening. He then tied her to a narrow tree trunk, and I declare he whipped her. Yes whipped her, using a twig from a tree. My, did she squeal in protest. I was becoming quite undone in my hidey-hole. I felt flutterings and tremblings that were quite foreign to me and had to cover my mouth lest a sound escape my lips.

When he was satisfied, I thought he would surely release her and let her find some comfort in her clothing at least but this was not to be. He stood back and stared at the effects of his handiwork. Her youthful mounds were striped and crisscrossed with angry welts and she was sobbing mercilessly.

I declare, he must have been overcome with grief at his harsh treatment of her as he proceeded to rub the wounds gently, as if trying to soothe her. Her sobs finally began to subside as he continued his ministrations. He seemed to lose focus as somehow his hand was no longer soothing her scorch marks. Rather he seemed to find some cause for concern between her legs as he started rubbing there and even going so far as to probe her with his fingers. They seemed to disappear there, into her aperture. He was starting to make strange groaning sounds also; he moved his fingers to his mouth whereupon he sucked them before returning to the source of the affliction. He began to kiss the marks quite tenderly. The lady parted her legs quite wide and I could see those parts you should never look upon. A brown mane afforded her some little protection from his and my gaze. She too was groaning and writhing. Then, (and this really is quite scandalous) he removed his breeches.

I assure you I have never seen such a sight. There seemed to be attached to his person this frightening growth coming away from the centre of his body, surrounded by hair. It was quite incredible, fearsome yet fascinating. Then he attacked the lady with this baton causing her considerably more discomfort if the sounds she was making are an indication. She thrashed her hips about but he seemed to meet her every time, thrashing her with his weapon. You must remember she was still tied. Then as suddenly as it began, both screamed and he fell atop her.

Even as I relate the events it has the most terrible effects on my nerves, my hand trembles, my breathing becomes laboured and I feel this most alarming sensation in my skirts. Most shocking indeed.

Yours affectionately,


©Tara Finnegan 10/8/2013

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