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.


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