George's No Good, Awful, Stinky Last Day

The next day George followed Huliyana, Tibareth, and Esma to their secret place.

He wondered what kind of trouble he was going to get into when he couldn't remember one of their names. It wasn't long before he found out.

"Watch out Esme!!" he hollered as a large boulder rolled down the side of the ravine, headed straight for Esma.

Esma turned to face him. She nodded her nose, first at the boulder and then at George. The boulder swerved onto a path headed straight for George. He stopped dead, and prepared to meet his end.

Huliyana thought this was hilarious. She guffawed and drooled and emitted that odor that only a harpie can emit. Out of her handbag she pulled a kerchief. Just before the boulder was to ram into George, which would certainly have killed him, Huliyana gave a Harpie shriek, and the boulder stopped just short of the tip of George's nose.

George's eyes were closed of course. He was hoping he would be killed. He'd had enough of their sadistic antics, even though he had somehow gotten used to their stench.

Probably, the apprentice himself did away with Malcolm for his own selfish reasons.

but George was being blamed for Malcolm's absence. George couldn't spell well. One of the notes he'd left for the harpies months earlier said "I kant stand that malkerelm smellow, so I rubbed hit out." The harpies thought George had murdered Tibareth's familiar Malcolm, instead of cleaning himself of the fishy smell that she wore for perfume.

Tibareth and the other two had been torturing George ever since. He'd been tarred and feathered, which the ladies could correct with a nod of their heads, but they let him suffer for three days. He'd been held over boiling oil, he'd been strapped to a bed of nails, he'd been left hanging from a tree.

If he survived this trip to the dreaded secret place, George intended to murder the apprentice.

a screeching cat outside the window drew all the attention away from George.

"Malcolm!!!" Tibareth happily screeched. There was her familiar, perfectly fine, in the apprentice's arms at the opening to the secret place.

"I've been making the place comfortable for you ladies" said the apprentice.

George broke. He no longer cared if he lived or died, so he jumped at the apprentice, and scratched the apprentice's face until he could not be recognized. Malcolm the familiar cat smirked. He didn't like the apprentice either, because he smelled like goat milk soap, and Malcolm hated both soap and goats.

The harpies were so happy to have Malcolm back, they forgot all about George, who dashed to safety and lived happily ever after.

But he never forgot that smell.

This is my entry to @mariannewest's Saturday weekend freewrite challenge. On Saturdays we have a second option of the fabulous Three Part Freewrite: we write for one prompt for five minutes, then move onto the second and third prompts, no peeking ahead. It's always a trip! The prompts are in bold italics in my entry today.

I set my timers for 4:30 and write away. I wrap up the story for another 30 seconds, then go back to clean it all up without changing the content. I spent far more time today looking for a free image of a harpy than I did writing. I did not succeed. My understanding is that a harpy is a very bad smelling woman with wings, magical powers, a hand bag, and evil intent. I do not know where I got that idea.

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