Cut-throat Competition

Nestled deep in the countryside lay two neighbouring villages.

Lower Mossbrook was neat and clean. It had wonderful amenities, lots of cycle paths, a picturesque well on the green, and a very competitive Neighborhood Watch Subcommittee for the Village of The Year

Bramblewood backed onto a forest which was considered an area of outstanding natural beauty and was home to two endangered species. It boasted thatched roofs, a crooked little pub which was the oldest in the county, and an equally competitive Village Council.

As the Village of the Year judging drew closer, both villages increased their efforts to be cleaner, prettier, and more welcoming. But it didn't stop there.

Albert Tennyson-Brown, the Chairman of the Bramblewood Village Council, looked like a walrus in tweed. An angry walrus, at this moment. He stood beached on the little wooden bridge, scowling at the freshly splintered railings, his mustache bristling at the plastic bottles choking the river. They had certainly not been there yesterday. He walked this way regularly with Toby, his Labrador, and it was usually a delightful stroll.

Time to call an extraordinary meeting.

His cohorts in the Council matched his indignation with "This is sabotage!", "Outrageous!" "cheats!" and "tut tut"

His wife, Sylvia, knew just what to do. She spoke to her grandson Eddie, and showed him the duffel bag of spray paint cans in the garage. Eddie nodded, took the bag and went to fetch his friends.

At the Mossbrook village hall, Edna Speckleworth adjusted her hat and spread out the plans her own grandchildren had helped her draw. It was a shame the room was always immaculate and there was nothing on the table to be swept dramatically aside.

The closer the day drew, the fiercer and more toxic the contest became, with efforts escalating and getting dirtier on both sides.

Stones thrown, windows broken, the well on the green smashed, and graffiti appearing faster than it could be scrubbed away.

I am sure you know where it's going. When the judges arrived, both villages were in such a state that neither won the award. They had become so intent on undermining the competition instead of focusing on what they could improve on their own doorsteps.

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Word count: (excluding author's note): 366

Submitted on: 14th May at 22:15

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will pay me for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well spent. I might extend the West Wing and upgrade the servant's quarters.

If you enjoyed this one, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 135 day streak since 1st January!

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Leave a comment: Please do leave me a comment. It makes it easier to reciprocate the read.

The story behind the story: This was originally going to be literally cut throat, with sweet little old dears getting murderously competitive! I've written too many murder stories lately and couldn't bring myself to write another. Maybe that idea can go back in the tank for another day!

Thank you

Thank you again, most especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you 😁

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