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martinlivingsSorry, that took way longer than ten minutes, mainly due to work, but I'm also out of practice at this. I don't think it's my best work, but I guess it's okay.
“The Velocious and the Vexed”
© Martin Livings 2009
Words:
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punkrocker1991 – “velocipede”
gillpolack – “Victorian engine”
1phish2phish – “harangued”
The Queen stood upon the raised dais, her grey hair in its distinctive bun, crown perched atop like a cherry on a cake. In one hand, she held raised a delicate lace handkerchief. The other held a ceremonial sceptre. Far above her, on his column, the stone statue of the grand hero Lord Nelson looked out, his gaze even more impassive than her own.
The annual velocipede race was far from the favourite event in her calendar of royal engagements.
Amongst the thirty-odd competitors – and the word “odd” was certainly appropriate, as every manner of contraption imaginable seemed to be represented this year – was Edgar Holloway, an inventor from Sussex. The other racers had mocked and harangued his velocipede as he’d rolled it into place on the starting line on the roundabout at the base of the column. They’d declared it too bulky, too heavy. The gear system beneath his seat was enormous, cogs enmeshed with one another in a complex array. His pedals were tiny, just two in all. But he ignored them, just puffed away on his large pipe, white smoke billowing out it.
The rules were simple. Eight laps around the roundabout, whomsoever finished first would win the prize of eighty guineas. A small fortune, and one that Holloway wanted for himself.
The queen dropped the handkerchief, and the race began.
For more, you'll need to buy the fanzine. :)
“The Velocious and the Vexed”
© Martin Livings 2009
Words:
punkrocker1991 – “velocipede”gillpolack – “Victorian engine”1phish2phish – “harangued”The Queen stood upon the raised dais, her grey hair in its distinctive bun, crown perched atop like a cherry on a cake. In one hand, she held raised a delicate lace handkerchief. The other held a ceremonial sceptre. Far above her, on his column, the stone statue of the grand hero Lord Nelson looked out, his gaze even more impassive than her own.
The annual velocipede race was far from the favourite event in her calendar of royal engagements.
Amongst the thirty-odd competitors – and the word “odd” was certainly appropriate, as every manner of contraption imaginable seemed to be represented this year – was Edgar Holloway, an inventor from Sussex. The other racers had mocked and harangued his velocipede as he’d rolled it into place on the starting line on the roundabout at the base of the column. They’d declared it too bulky, too heavy. The gear system beneath his seat was enormous, cogs enmeshed with one another in a complex array. His pedals were tiny, just two in all. But he ignored them, just puffed away on his large pipe, white smoke billowing out it.
The rules were simple. Eight laps around the roundabout, whomsoever finished first would win the prize of eighty guineas. A small fortune, and one that Holloway wanted for himself.
The queen dropped the handkerchief, and the race began.
For more, you'll need to buy the fanzine. :)
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 02:47 am (UTC)