#dorottyacrow

three words :

    The last thing Peter had expected after patching up a fellow party guest was the hoard of Mamas that had hounded him over a plain lie in Whistledown. He could not recall the last time he had felt so utterly helpless.When fleeing the scene, he did not pay attention to which direction he was running and now found himself in the middle of the back gardens of Colchester House.

Not wanting to expose himself to any more maternal rage, he decided that the gardens would be a good hiding spot until the soiree’s end. As he rounded the corner, the most beautiful rose bush caught his eye. They were pinkish-red and in perfect bloom. Roses being his Grandmama’s favorite, Peter supposed it would not be a crime to pick a few for her, as a souvenir of the party she could not attend. Humming, he stood on his toes and inspected each branch, careful not to catch a thorn. His hums however were soon replaced by perhaps the loudest buzz of a bee’s wings he had ever heard.

“I’ll be quick, good sir.” Peter whispered in the insect’s direction, silently pleading to not come face to face with it. Unfortunately for him, the bumble bee shot out of the bush flew into his neck. Instinctively, Peter’s hand rose up to slap it and was brought down by an angry sting to his palm.

“Oh, BLAST!” As he recovered from the assault, he spotted a female form rushing in his direction. He stepped back, sputtering.