Cinderella's rat footman, changed back to rodent state at midnight, was, on the whole, not sorry to be so. He retired to his home behind the wainscotting, occasionally going out to the corner of the yard to dine on the remains of the pumpkin carriage. Even in his old age, he spoke little of a rather dreary evening evening spent in human form, waiting in the chill night air on the steps of the palace on the drama taking place within, unbalanced by taillessness and discomforted by agoraphobia, the desire to urinate and the presence in his mouth of a set of molars and premolars. No, he thought, he had little to thank the fairy godmother for at all.
Burning cone subsides
an incandescent backbone
fire bends and breaks.
* Flash fiction: when the matter of this came up, the idea came to me to take a piece from the pile of scrap paper of varying sizes we clip together as shopping lists, write something that filled one leaf of whatever size, quickly and with little revision. So it is very flash (in the sense of very minimal, not as in very showy) flash fiction. I've not kept it up very diligently, and then sometimes it's something I wrote before, rather longer than a shopping list page. But for this month, when getting stuff out overrides lack of conviction - I'll try produce something each week in this category, observing a tradition of an alliterative day of the week throughout November's daily blogging. This one is very short and inconsequential.