I dared not speak; I feared to even breathe. There was something about her the way she filled the room with her essence. Her glare spoke volumes; her voice grated with every word that passed her lips. Her posture was domineering and stiff. I practically had to bite my lip until it bled to keep the laugh at bay. Not because this pluming was so at odds with her normal demeanor, but rather because she so resembled the grey parrot whose mimicking had gotten her so wound up.
not really sure about this one. my first instinct with dare was "Truth or Dare." my first thoughts practical were "Practical Magic." as for essence, couldn't quite wrap my brain around it all that well. so how this piece came about is beyond me. i probably should of went for the poem angle, but it's been awhile since i toyed with prose. I suppose it will suffice for this week's Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>dare, essence, and practical]. I like the inclusion of the definitions, but it still doesn't stop me from looking up each would to get a better feel for their essence.