Edward pulls the cart wearily into the allotment, its wheels coated in mud, his boots thick with clay, twigs n leaves. Mushrooms behind his ears. "Wakey wakey my little #morphisms!" He yawns. The radishes open their eyes. The corgette jumps down, stretches, looks around

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A small caterpillar stretched, yawned n snuck its head out of Edward's warm pocket, n found a multifarious parade of yummy activity. Vegetables of all shapes n sizes digging in, as though preparing for some attack! The caterpillar's eyes ballooned love hearts. "Lunch!"

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Edward placed the little caterpillar under a cloche. "Our allotment is a haven for the #finifugal." He yanked a wrinkled leaf from the head of a shocked savoy. "Sorry, my friend, but we must make sacrifices." And slipped the torn green into the cloche, amid cabbage tears

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More refugees arrived throughout the day, a cloud of cauliflowers, a poem of artichokes, a couple of cool cucumbers, a lost and lonely asparagus. As the sun pulled the cool evening to its chin, Edward locked the gates and settled down in his shed to an #agelast sleep

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He woke with a start, and with a purple carrot shaking him. "Listen!" But all Edward heard was the tapering root's #xertz. "Wait!" And then came howling wolves on the wind. "They are circling us," whispered the carrot. "Much closer tonight! Everyone is nervous."

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Edward walked the perimeter of the allotment, shaking the fence at regular intervals, and stopping every now and again to listen to the #obstreporous wolves howling beneath the pale moon.

"Open the gate!" Came a cry, and the sound of corks flying at growls in the night.

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A torn and battered #octothorpe of shallots retreated through the gates with a bloodied Beefy Tom. In their midst, 2 spring onions huddled in terror. The allotment's gates crashed shut on snarling teeth, just in time. Edward secured the lock against the circling wolves

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"Call the pears," commanded Edward, stringing an old iron baking tray to his chest. "We shall have a conference"

"We couldn't hold them off," gasped Tiny the shallot. "We ran out of corks. It was my #debut patrol, never again!"

"Beefy Tom is bleeding bad," said a carrot
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"How bad?" Said Edward

"He's bleeding dead, Sir!" the carrot wept

" #Already?"

"Best bury him quick," said a pear. "If wolves catch scent of the blood..."

"Sling him in the compost,"said the carrot

"You can't put toms in compost!" Cried Tiny. "Everyone knows that!"

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Tom was buried with some cheese (to hide the smell of blood... honest.. burp*). The wolves slunk away, and the allotment folk were beginning to #relax, when the gates were frantically shaken. "Let me in. For God's sake let me in!" Ed rushed to the gate

*Editor's note

#vss365