I submitted the following short story into a contest. The rules were it had to be under 50 words, and include the words tiara, sparkly, and princess.
Creeping across the wooden planks and ignoring the hundreds of sparkly eyes peering from the dark, I grabbed the rolled paper that documented my three year descent into hell. And then I paused. “What are you waiting for, princess, your lawyer tiara?” It was just the beginning.
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