LordPeter List Literary Contest

Harriet got up from the table and wandered away. She came upon a largish room, barren in the center, seemingly designed for many functions. Dancing...coffee...a liqueur. Time's colors swirled by as birds, dipping their wings to the wind's rhythm of a waltz. The male, unruffled, sleekly groomed, melencholy of expression. His mate irredescent in a plummage reminiscent of flowers. It struck Harriet that time had moved backward here, as it often did everywhere, and she felt its rhythm flow and ebb in currents about her as she examined the costumes of the imitators, coyly hiding and flattering time's ravages. Her intense gaze unmasked the futility of the game. Her brain accepted its rules as a necessary part of the cycle.

-- Marjorie Phelps

Parody of...

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