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furious fiction story that did not make the cut {but I’m proud I wrote it anyway}

 

The air was thick with magic. Not the mealy mouthed, wrinkle your nose, white kind of magic but the down and dirty, dark-minded, we’re going to stir up the world kind. With a little violence on the side, if you want it, and can afford to pay. I pull my hat down a little further, walk through the shimmering crowds as if I own the party, praying I’ll remain unnoticed.

“Well! Well! Well! You have a nerve coming to MY party!”

Music stops and so does the chatter. All eyes are upon me.

Damn!

I turn around to face the changeling, Susannah.

Despite her long misshapen legs and the permanent sneer etched on her prematurely aged face she is considered a beauty in Faux-Georgian circles. Today she affects a sweet, maiden style. High waisted muslin dress, sprigged with tiny bows, in contrasting shades of blue. Her brother, Percival, stands at her side, sneering and pudgy in his frocked coat and tights. He took snuff, but was not really up to it.

For a moment I forget my lines. Just as the panic begins to rise, I remember and make a deep bow.

“Greetings Miz Susannah”

I follow up with a perfunctory curtsey in Percival’s direction.

“And to you, Duke”

He nods in boredom and signals to the orchestra to commence the next berceuse. The crowds begin to loll and dream dance, helped along by the misty atmosphere of deepest desire.

Susannah glares. I try not to blanche for I know it is dangerous to show fear in front of her. She is my faerie twin; she knows me better than I know myself.  She hates me.

“I told you not to come here”, she says, fingering a knife which has appeared out of nowhere. It is long and thin and looks insanely sharp. “There is nothing for you here, or didn’t I make that clear last time!”

My heart leaps and I feel the place where my left arm used to be. In the depths of my mind it is still there. Feeling brave, and a little desperate, I straighten my spine and tell her straight to her face, “I only want one little button. To complete my collection, you know.”

She looks unconvinced so I continue, trying not to babble, “Yours is the last Button Party of the year. And I only need the one. Please Susannah, I’ll never come here again if you’ll only let me buy the button I need. It’s only one…” my words trail off and I feel tears flowing down my cheeks.

“Oh! For Oberon’s sake! Get your damned button and leave!!”

I bow, smiling underneath my tears.

I buy my button and retire to the belvedere, where my warlock and lover, Aidan, awaits.

“I have it”, I say, handing over the twelfth button.

He smiles, grasps my hand.

“We’ll bring your arm back, then leave.”

Not before revenge, I think, not before I get my revenge.

 

 

Copyright June 2019

 

 

 

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30-word stories

Way back in April, Writers Victoria had a group flash fiction project which stretched throughout the whole month. 30 days of 30-word stories to celebrate 30 yrs of being.  Even though none of my stories was picked as story of the day {insert sad face} I was given lots of encouragement from people. I am now sharing my stories with you all.

 

Here are stories 26-30

 

April 26th – iridescent

 

Frantic dancing, an iridescent fluttering against the chandelier.

White. Pink. Red. Purple. Blue. Green. White again.

Mustn’t fly too high.

 

Wax softens in the flames.

And colours crash.

To earth.

 

April 27th – nacreous

 

“A word in your shell-like?”

Tentacles ooze around my throne.

As if I, Mother of Pearls, would grant a squid a boon.

“Calamari!” I order.

He dissolves in cloudy ink.

 

April 28th – treasure

 

In the crisper, cucumbers aside, under the wilting lettuce, my fingers map the route to the hidden treasure of chocolate teddy bear biscuits.

Off with his head.

He’ll never tell.

 

April 29th – perfectionism

 

Each letter I choose has meaning.

Each word I spell has power.

Precise words from my poisoned pen upon the parchment and hey presto, you are gone from my life.

 

April 30th – pearl

 

Mum said we will make a fortune. She also said it wouldn’t hurt. She lied. Nine months of agony as my eyes create pearls. Rich, yet blind, a fateful dowry.

 

Copyright June 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30-word stories

Way back in April, Writers Victoria had a group flash fiction project which stretched throughout the whole month. 30 days of 30-word stories to celebrate 30 yrs of being.  Even though none of my stories was picked as story of the day {insert sad face} I was given lots of encouragement from people. I am now sharing my stories with you all.

Here are stories 21-25

 

April 21st – beginning

 

I, Ouroboros, have no beginning and no end.

Each day I wash, cook, clean and scream.

Then I wake and do it all again.

I devour my own tail.

Endlessly.

 

April 22nd – inventive

 

I have a new supplier. The body parts arrive fresh, chilled on ice.

For weeks I’ve been perfecting new recipes. Stitching flavours together for anthropophagus tastes.

Tonight, the grand opening.

 

April 23rd – celebrate

 

I don’t want to celebrate! Sandra smashes her fist through the cake. Icing spurts. Candles splutter.

Far too many candles.

As the guests leave, she cries and checks for wrinkles.

 

 

April 24th – transform

 

“I’ll take the Kerouac with a dash of Austen and a smidgen of Woolf, Virginia.”

The receptionist smiled, “Nice mix madam. Sign here. The neurosurgeon will be with you shortly.”

 

April 25th – remember

 

Well, hello.

Fancy meeting you in Hell.

I’m your tour guide.

I remember

The feel of your belt on my bare skin as you

Beat

The

Devil

Out

Of

Me

 

 

Copyright June 2019

30-word stories

Way back in April, Writers Victoria had a group flash fiction project which stretched throughout the whole month. 30 days of 30-word stories to celebrate 30 yrs of being.  Even though none of my stories was picked as story of the day {insert sad face} I was given lots of encouragement from people. I am now sharing my stories with you all.

 

Here are stories 16-20

 

April 16th – blunder

 

Isn’t there a vaccination for it?

For what?

Foot in mouth disease.

Foot and mouth disease?

No. Foot in mouth disease.

Um, no. You will just have to blunder through.

 

April 17th – tenacity

 

My thread has nearly worn through.

With each brain snap I unravel a little more.

But still I hang on tight.

My worn out thread is all I now have.

 

April 18th – precious

 

I close my eyes.

Watch birds dip and dive.

Platypuses play along the bank.

Fish flirt with dappled light as insects skate on by.

Precious life under concrete and clay.

 

April 19th – despair

 

He never loved me, his last child. My voice lost in the cacophony of others.

I am buried alive, waiting to die. They don’t realise, he’ll never pay the ransom.

 

April 20th – lustre

 

Her white body glowed with a lustre reflected from the full moon. As she danced around her back garden, chanting incantations to Hecate, the neighbours watched and whispered, “Blessed be!”

 

 

Copyright June 2019