Dog Days and a Purple Moon

Sunny street cafe, blue and pale barn red, warmNita traced the path of a seagull, as it tipped and bounced through the harbor breeze, noting its resemblance to the whitecaps further out and closer to the breakwater. There’s a reminder there, she thought, that a thing is not always as it seems at first glance.  Continue reading “Dog Days and a Purple Moon”

Necessary Sacrifice

The spellbook was specific: one hundred candles to draw and light the circle, less one for each sorceress. Fewer, and the plague would continue. Once fully lit, the circle could not be crossed. Back to back, the three worked quickly, coaxing flame from dry wick. The twins moved clockwise, junior apprentice Bella counterclockwise. Continue reading “Necessary Sacrifice”

Shields Down

cShe’d gotten in near midnight, after her evening shift at the group home. Her own home was a shambles: beer cans and wine bottles, scummy bong water, butts strewn all over the floor, some of them human. They weren’t supposed to be here.

Rodney emerged from the bedroom, a very drunk, half-clothed Britanny hanging off his shoulder, sharing his satiated grin.

“Sheralynn,” Rodney drew up his familiar shield of nonchalance. “I thought you were working a double shift.”

“They sent me home. Likely COVID exposure,” she wiped her brow, unsure if it was fever, or rage. “Everybody out. Now.”

Continue reading “Shields Down”

Thunder and Lightning

silver war hammer
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/461407924316206796/

“You sure this is gonna work, Jonas?”

“Have I ever steered you wrong before, Boy?”

Peter muttered, “Only for a higher purpose. Or so you say.”

Jonas grinned, his double row of needle-sharp teeth glinting in the cavern’s incandescence. His hearing was quite acute, even for a centuries-old creature as himself.  Continue reading “Thunder and Lightning”

17:00

Picture of a park bench

(Click here to view : What the park bench sees everyday)

She supposed she really ought to be scattering bird seed, perhaps corn for the larger ones. So her grandson had often told her, in kind but stern words. “The mold on the bread could kill them!”

But her widow’s pension was meant for sustenance, not luxury, so she shared what she had. The birds didn’t seem to mind, judging by how they gathered about her feet on this park bench, every day at 5 pm. And they never left a crumb behind, so where was the harm? Continue reading “17:00”

All Are Welcome Here

Wife carrying Competition, jumping a hurdle
Image based on IBT(2014), with my apologies

A little flash fiction around a prompt of “Wife Carrying.” Because maybe that’s the true test of a strong partnership:

It’d never occurred to them that their participation might not be welcome. Celebrating the fortitude and stamina required to go the distance in marriage–what better way to do this than with a test of physical endurance?  Continue reading “All Are Welcome Here”