The Fly Upon My Mantel

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“I have a story to tell you that you will not believe,” the fly said.

I listened. Because if I believed that a fly could speak, then I was more than ready to hear what she had to say.

And I did believe, after a fashion, when I realized that the tiny voice I’d heard whispering my name was coming from the fly that was perched on the edge of my mantel.

~~~ Continue reading

Stromascope

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sf_wk16

In the suddenly dimmed room full of seated strangers, I heard subdued coughs, the click of a heel, the crack of a knuckle, and the hushed hiss of fabric shifting against fabric or against the hard plastic chairs.

The room brightened from the front, where the image slowly appeared and came into focus, radiant white and familiar. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room as eyes adjusted to the monotone image and grasped the subtle sight of the unexpected. Continue reading

The Incident of the Imp

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sf_wk3A kid…in a costume. It had to be.

Still, it was frightening. To think I almost hit the poor little guy.

Maybe it was a good thing that the costume was so good, so convincing. The sickly yellow glow-in-the-dark contacts. The pro-quality fang fixtures. That tail that almost looked as if it were whipping back and forth on its own. I thought it was some animal I’d almost hit. That would have been bad enough. If I’d known it was a kid, I might have panicked and lost control of the car. Maybe I would have hit him.

But Halloween was days ago. Was some kid having his last hurrah? Loved his costume so much, he decided to keep wearing it? Continue reading

The Mirror of Displacement

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sf_w2Perhaps centuries from now, medicine will be able to restore what was lost from injuries such as his. But now, I must turn to practices arcane.

Clara sighed as she watched the ink dry. She sat in the dim basement of the home she shared with her husband, who was working in his office upstairs. It was a chilly autumn day. Yet the basement was temperate. She dipped her quill into the well and continued.

I have built it according to the instruction I found. I have built it with my own hands, against warnings, it is true. But I am a desperate woman. I am a desperate wife. Continue reading