Mythy’s Strawberry Patch
Once upon a time there was a woman who the townsfolk called a Mythomane, penned Mythy for short, as she was known for her outrageous stories. It was so well known that she even called herself Mythy. Well it was a new morning and Mythy knew she would have to spend the day picking the most perfect strawberries for her well-known jam. She would make a batch, load it in her wide wagon, and swivel through the busy streets selling her product.
Mythy set out this morning to get her berries. She left the front door and started walking down the walkway, as if she were a model on a runway. She used the lightest steps, so as not to hurt any insects crawling along in their little clusters. Within moments Mythy was at her strawberry patch where the lightest strawberries, perfect in shape and size, grew. After a few hours of picking Mythy felt like her day had been cheated by busy work. Euchred, she sat down amongst her prize strawberries and cried. She knew she would never complete her jam today.
One thought on “Wordle #164”
Naww, this was gorgeous! I love the way you used the words. The ending was a little bittersweet, but it worked perfectly. Nicely done!
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