Tis a pity she's a whelk stall owners daughter.

This is my first attempt at a romance, so please bear with me reader on this little experiment, which may or may not turn out well. Enjoy the wackiness :)

Tis a pity she's a whelk stall owners daughter

It began one loathsome day, in the middle of Frank street, London. Marabell Brixley, daughter of the renowned Mr. Brixley, a well known seller of whelks (a kind of sea snail), was in love.

But not just with anyone. She was in love with Matt Ferguson, adventurer and all around scoundrel. The son of a coal merchant, Ferguson had traveled round the world. He'd swam with the crocs in the Nile, flew over the Andes via hang-glider, and battled cannibalistic natives in the jungle. Ferguson had done it all, and flown home to good old London with his loot, using it to buy a good sized mansion.

And soon enough, he'd met Marabell. The two had clicked instantly. Her with her soupy blue eyes, and golden crown of hair, and he with his rogue-some good looks, and sandy brown hair. But there was an unforeseen snag in their romance. Mr. Brixley, did not approve...

Brixley wanted his daughter to set her sights a bit higher than a mere wealthy adventurer. At the very least he wanted her to marry an eel salesman. For as well as the lovable whelk sold to the common folk, eels were where it's at. Eels were a solid, respectable trade, something to really be proud of.

But Marabell just wouldn't listen. She didn't want to marry Fuggly, the son of a middle-class eel salesman. She loved Ferguson with all of her heart. Yet she knew that her father would never accept anything less than an eel salesman, so she knew what she had to do. She would run away with her true love, living a life on the run from her fathers wrath. She didn't want to, but her father had left her with no choice. So Marabell set off immediately, headed for Ferguson's mansion.

Meanwhile...

All was not well with Matt Ferguson. Having bet heavily on a horse race and lost his fortunes, he was a broken man. The house would be foreclosed, all his possessions taken, and if he didn't flee soon from the thugs he owned money to, then they would surely bring the police against him. He had no choice but to leave as soon as possible, completely forgetting about Marabell in his haste.

As Marabell reached the mansion, she knew instantly that something was wrong. The house seemed abandon. She searched frantically through the rooms, calling her lovers name, but to no avail. Her beloved Ferguson, had left...

Distraught and saddened, Marabell ran out into the street and fell to her knees, tears pouring down her cheeks at the knowledge that he had forsaken her. She heard the honk of a horn and turned to see a taxi approaching fast, but it was too late. Marabell, was run over and her frail life ended in an instant.

Her father blamed the death of his daughter on the heartless scoundrel, whom he pursued for the rest of his life, finally catching up to him on the frozen wastes of Africa. Ferguson plead for his life, but Mr. Brixley wanted revenge. With a brutal blow from a three pound whelk, he felled Ferguson to the ground, feeling a deep joy at the feeling of vengeance.

Epilogue.

The lovers united in paradise, where Ferguson had an eternal fear of whelks but nevertheless lived(or unlived I suppose, since they're dead) happily ever after.

Mr. Brixley went on to become the famed 'Whelk Murderer' of London, the serial killer made so famous in the recent newspapers for his brutal method of clubbing his victims with whelks.

And so ends this tragedy, with the words of wisdom that you should never long for a whelk stall owners daughter...