Literary Lion. Baked.

Huge apologies for the lateness of the Literary Lion this fortnight, but I am mid house move, and, of course, our little lion friend got lost in the forest of cardboard. Suffice to say he is now found, and this week’s word is ‘Sun’, something that the usually cloudy-skied England has actually been blessed with today…

You have a fortnight to tell your tales of ‘Sun’ in 400 words or less. Remember to use the tag ‘Literary Lion’ in your post, pingback to this prompt and don’t forget to give me a mention on Instagram and twit-twoo on Twitter.

Here is my sunshine inspired piece…


The sun crackled, singeing her skin. She drank in the heat, letting it hit the depths of her lungs as it enveloped her, invading her body with its stifling smother. She opened one eye and saw her feathery lashes in the reflection of her sunglasses. They were curved, covered in a thick black mascara stain. She was batting them in vanity when she first noticed the lines. Little wrinkled trenches spanning away from those plumed hairs, gorging through the skin and reaching towards her eyebrows in a takeover of old age. Her designer lenses magnified them to horrific heights. Her years of sunshine allegiance, her practised pose of worship, her secret concoction of lemon juice and extra virgin olive oil, and all she was left with was something that resembled a desiccated baked potato.


36 thoughts on “Literary Lion. Baked.

    1. That would have been very apt! I loved that lion, although I’m not sure I would have eaten him, he would’ve sat proudly on my sideboard until he started to go mouldy. Mr. Hollywood never seems to have an issue sticking his knife into those creations…


  1. You have given me images of some of my great aunts and women we all have meant baked to a leathery crisp by years in the sun or the tanning bed. Great descriptions, I just feel really grossed out by it including her special concoction.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love the idea of jumping from a vanity pose, to one of horror, reflected in her glasses. And the “desiccated baked potato” ending, nice. She has aged years, without even leaving her sun-lounger.


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