For Wendell, life had been infinitely easier apprenticed to an upscale haberdasher on Saville Row. Of a pensive nature, he’d cared little for unrestrained merriment or any sort of profligate behavior. The garish, nocturnal enticements of the metroplex held little appeal for him. Nibbling upon crostini with a small glass of chianti at a corner café comprised a night out for him.
But, Fate saw fit to sprinkle a handful of metaphorical caltrops upon his mundane path and Wendell was forever changed.
A chance encounter, while on his nightly constitutional, saw him transformed from mere man to feral lycanthrope. Gone forever was the timid, unassuming man, subsumed by the irrepressible call of the wolf. Abandoned forever was his former life.
For after all, what attraction to the life of an urban wage slave when sitting atop a hillock, baying at the moon rising over the firth was so much more…liberating?
This story was written for the Monday Mixer flash fiction challenge hosted by...me. Of course, it is ineligible but I just can't resist the call to come out & play. The challenge involves using a minimum of three prompt words from the separate categories into a single story of exactly 150. For this week's challenge, those words were:
Locations: 1) firth 2) metroplex 3) hillock
Things: 1) caltrops 2) haberdasher 3) crostini
Adjectives: 1) nocturnal 2) profligate 3) pensive
While I admit it's a bit tricky, just to be a show-off and to prove it, most certainly, can be done, I opted to use all nine of the prompt words. Why not come out & try it yourself?