I enjoy wrapping up a story with an unexpected turn, either in 
the plot or through an ironic reference to the title.  Below is 
an example I wrote for the SSC summer short story contest, but 
never posted. -- I.

 

                       SUMMER GAMES

                            by

                        Imreadonly

 

It seemed like a harmless game.  I would spend the summer at my 
friend Laura's family estate in Surrey pretending to be a maid.

But as her father glowered down at me, it didn't feel like a game 
at all.

"If you didn't steal it, where did it come from?" he thundered.  
"How could a twenty-year-old serving wench afford a locket like 
this?"

It was MY locket, of course.  I had simply neglected to take it off 
when I had changed into my servant's clothes.  It was a minor rule 
violation.  A trivial oversight.  A trifle, really.    

But how could I explain that to Laura's scowling father? 

My mind went blank.  "I...think I...I found it...somewhere," I 
stammered. 

"Laura and I are leaving for London," he said testily.  "I want 
this little thief dealt with before I return." 

"Don't worry, sir," Jackson, the butler, said.  "We'll thrash her 
in the courtyard.  It will be a good example to the others."

Thrash?  Did he say THRASH?

I raced to Laura, the one person who knew my true identity.  
"Please, miss, you...you know I didn't steal it!"  

Laura had warned me that my masquerade was foolish and risky.  We 
argued until I blackmailed her into doing it by threatening to tell 
her father about a dashing young officer she was always flirting 
with. 

Now she looked upon my predicament with little sympathy.  "Getting 
caught with that locket was very careless of you, Julia, and now 
you must pay the price," she said as casually as if she were 
discussing the weather. 

As her father turned away, Laura leaned closer and whispered in my 
ear, "Do you still think it's 'romantic' to play dress up?" she 
asked, smiling daggers.

I watched helplessly as the one person in the world who knew that 
I was Lady Julia Kenningston nonchalantly sauntered out the door, 
parasol in hand.

With no chance of appeal I quickly found myself in the courtyard 
standing before the dreaded whipping block.  As the stable ruffians 
stripped me I considered my options. 

If I told them who I was, they'd never believe me.  They'd thrash 
me anyway, and, when the truth came out, my family would be 
scandalized forever. 

Soon, even the option to confess was lost, as they stuffed a 
coarse stable rope between my teeth and knotted it behind my 
head.

The stable louts bent me over the whipping block, stark naked, 
with my bottom raised high for everyone to see.

I bit into my rope and watched Oxe, the shirtless, thuggish 
blacksmith, shake the brine off the birch rod he'd selected 
for my chastisement.  He smiled a toothless smile as he crudely 
adjusted the bulge in the front of his pants and ogled my bottom.

My "harmless" game was ending in ignominy and disgrace. 

But Oxe's game was just beginning.



Edited by C. Lakewood