Tell A Tale in 500 Words
A Box Of Woodlice By Malcolm Davie
She quickly crossed her legs as she noticed him peeping up her skirt. The train stopped and he smiled at anyone who looked clutching his box of woodlice. She didn't look and left a trace of perfume as she vanished into a crowd of people. He lifted the lid and took a long sniff, the smell of the woodlice was comforting. It had been years since he has been with a woman, in the summer months he would ride on the trains peeping up skirts. Dribbling and spluttering he would reach into his trousers and scratch his testicles. It was pleasurable for him to make women feel uncomfortable.
He brushed a couple of beer cans and some leaves from his damp, piss stained bed, setting the boxed woodlice free into the night. Tugging on a bottle and tugging again, he slowly sank deep into his rotting mattress.
Decomposition alerted the postman, the postman alerted some others. A pair arrived with gloves and a sack in a white Bedford van. They eventually struggled with the corpse and left the house to the mice and the woodlice. One day ime a couple arrived, he was muscular, assertive and cocky. She was freckled pale, beautiful and golden.They glowed in the dark and they painted the walls as white as their teeth. They sealed the windows, filled in the holes and laid beautiful carpets all over the floor. The woodlice were outside and the mice moved next door. They stopped glowing and started fighting and it wasn't long until a baby was born.
She quickly crossed her legs as she saw him peeping, he was smiling but she got going, vanishing into a crowd of people, his white teeth still showing. He pulled back his shoulders, and made his way to the nearest bar. Back at the house she sucks from the bottle as she rolls up some dog ends and sinks into the mattress. Baby is crying, it's soiled and hungry and the postman has been.
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