The Foul Ficly
I just finished reading Spring, the ever faithful friend by Sastina Adeliz. A short, beautiful snippet about the oncoming wonders of a new spring. That story, I assure you, is filled with happiness and joy. Therefore, if you want to read a ficly that does not end in tears, I suggest you go there now, because the story you have just begun is filled with pain and misery.
Now, when using the word loom, one might think of a machine used to weave fabrics through the means of shedding, picking and battening threads into a piece of cloth.
However, if I were to say that Mrs. Bradley’s ominous future loomed just beyond the top step of the spiral staircase in her victorian house in San Francisco, I would not be referring to a large wooden machine, but rather something to come into view in the near future.
Never the less, on Mrs. Bradley’s way down to the kitchen, her right foot missed the first step, causing her to drop the chinese tea tray and tumble down three flights of stairs to her death.