A FLASH IN THE DARK
Mary, Mary, quite contrary.
“Wife, there be a hair in my soup!”
The single, long, red hair floated in a juicy tomato sea. In disgust William moved to fish it out with his fork. Yet, as he did so, the hair wriggled. He froze wide-eyed with surprise.
“Did you –”
The hair wriggled again, and several more long red hairs popped to the surface of the warm soup.
William dropped his fork and glanced around the room. No-one else was near him or had noticed what was taking place within his evening meal. His wife was labouring over the stove with her back turned on the other side of the kitchen.
William looked back at his soup.
There were more hairs now plopping to the surface and beginning to fill the bowl.
William placed both hands on the table and pushed his chair backwards away from the disgusting vision.
Then, with utter horror, he watched as the surface of the soup bulged upwards. The mass of hair slowly rose from the surface of the soup. A tomato-streaked brow appeared, followed by a pair of lidded eyes, a nose, and a dripping mouth.
William gazed at the spectacle, frozen to his seat, unable to either flee or tear his eyes away from the monstrosity floating in his soup dish.
Then the thing opened its eyes, looked up at him, opened wide its mouth and coughed a gout of orange-red drool onto his shirt, before bubbling wetly, “In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum.”
Upon which William fainted dead away.
He awoke to the concerned face of his wife and, of course, nothing more disagreeable than a bowl of cold tomato soup.
He died that night and was buried three days later on the Eve of Christmas in the year of our Lord, 1608.
Some blamed the foreign wolfpeach but others new more.