Lazy Megan

Lazy Megan is a character that just came along, like a bus that you weren’t expecting or a spike of lightning on a still night. I knew she was a bit sinister. Not because she was smelly, everyone else who lived in the village was probably just as smelly; and she wasn’t sinister because she lived on her own and people were a bit scared of her. People back then (I’m talking middle ages here) were a bit scared of women living on their own and not behaving quite like everyone else, especially if they had a bit of specialised knowledge, like knowing about herbs that could heal or that might be dangerous and make you sick. Megan was just one of those people not even the village priest would want to cross.

I thought Megan might be someone like that, but she turned out to be a nightmare in the story I have just finished.

Fingers crossed (or maybe a bit of Megan’s dark magic would be handy) and the story sneaks into print.

Lazy Megan

Lazy Megan had a round moon face that was always dirty and sweaty, especially there on her upper lip and she smelt too, not like others in the valley, of pigs and shit and wood smoke but something sweet and bitter, one of the herbs she liked to burn. Her fingers were short and oddly fat, plump, her palms pale. She kept her hands clean, which was a miracle because there was mud and dirt everywhere and her little hut was as leaky and dark as anyone elses. Rain dripped from the eaves and the fire guttered and the smoke stung the girl’s eyes. She didn’t like being there in Megan’s hut. She didn’t really like Megan but the trouble was she had a favour to ask her.