John’s Fellow Passengers

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As the flight attendants did their usual safety orientation, demonstrating the use of the oxygen mask, and where to pull on the flotation devices under the seat cushions, John drew in his elbows, tried to bring his knees together, and muttered a curse against himself under his breath. 

Why couldn’t you just pay the thirty bucks to upgrade to an aisle seat? Continue reading

The Automated Fortune Line

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“What did you come here looking for, Dorian?” she asked.

A rumble of thunder sounded outside.  And the rain seemed to thicken.  Instead of the quick but distinct droplets, there were now just splashes and slaps of water hitting the little house that had been converted into the psychic’s parlor.  The lights flickered. Continue reading

Maugre Death We Walk

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“There’s no need for this,” Morgan said, glancing over to his right shoulder, where a heavy hand lay on him, holding him in place.  “I came willingly.”

He was in the living room of the woman who had introduced herself as A.J.  The woman whom he suspected was responsible for the “resurrections.”  Morgan hadn’t quite figured out what term he would use for it in his story. Continue reading

The Galvanic Ghost

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I am only a student.  That’s why she came to me, trusting that I would have a sufficient balance of knowledge and naiveté to serve her desperate need.

And I am woman.  That’s why she came to me, trusting that I would not mark her concerns as mere hysterics.

What was this strange and destructive condition she bore?  She spoke of hurting her husband and fleeing from her children so that she would never hurt them.  She spoke of being pursued by authorities in dark garb. Continue reading

All the Mirrors Are Broken

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“Do you have any missing art supplies?”

The woman standing in the open doorway, still blocking my entrance, blinked at me and said, “What?”

“Art supplies.  Especially high-end supplies.  Maybe some fancy imported ink.  That kind of thing.”

Her gaze dropped briefly—to take in my apparel, I’m guessing—and then she smiled at me, or at least, her mouth smiled at me.

“I’m sorry, Miss, uh—“

“Diamond.”  My mouth also smiled at her. Continue reading