Tag: urban fantasy

prompt: Cast a magician (a real one, or a party entertainer) as your story’s protagonist. 

available at Reedsy

I’ve heard that, given enough time, one can get accustomed to anything; to see it as normal. After ten years of this, I can say that’s a load of hogwash.

The oohs and aahs of the audience over what amounted to basic sleight of hand annoyed me. Still, I smiled and performed as if for a classroom of five-year-olds. It shouldn’t have surprised me how easily the dupes were fooled, I guess, since they grew up in a world where they knew magic isn’t real.

They were wrong, of course, but I didn’t dare show them the real stuff. Instead, I practiced all the exercises that a budding mage learns beginning at five. Real magic isn’t possible until the complex movements and manipulations of the hands is a matter of muscle memory.

There was a couple in the audience that reminded me of Barbie and Ken. She was staring daggers at me. He’d been undressing me with his eyes since I took off my jacket. I briefly considered making it rain on her table to cool them both off. Bad idea, I think.

I always ended my show with the tiniest bit of real magic. It started by showing my hands, front and back, fingers spread. None of the awkward hand poses used to palm something or hide it behind the fingers.

My arms were bare, and my hands stayed visible and away from my body for the duration. After turning my hands palms up, I closed my right hand, raised it over the left, and then dropped a dollar coin into my open palm.

I again showed that my right hand was empty, and that my left was holding the coin. My left hand closed around the coin and immediately opened to show it was empty again.

I would go through several iterations of this, with up to twenty coins. They weren’t appearing out of thin air, of course. It was a simple minor teleportation spell, moving the coins from my pocket to my hand and back again.

The lech was damn near salivating and the woman at his side was fuming. I pointed at her, and he immediately assumed I was pointing at him. When he pointed at himself with an excited, hungry grin, I shook my head with a look of disgust.

I had gotten her attention. Using motions, I got her to place her hands flat on the table, which turned her attention to curiosity.

I ran through a quick routine, making all twenty coins “appear” one by one, then made them disappear in one grand movement. The surprise on her face was all I needed.

She’d felt the coins teleporting to the table under her hands. She lifted her hands and expressed surprise at the twenty one-dollar coins.

“Keep those,” I said. “Maybe you can afford a babysitter and have a fun night out without—” I nodded towards the man.

She laughed, and he was the one fuming. Good for him, I thought. If he was my date, he’ d find himself impotent and/or incontinent. Maybe I should anyway.

I closed out the show and retreated to the dressing room where I could let the phony smile drop. The face in the mirror was me, but it wasn’t. It was my strawberry blonde hair, freckles arguing my age with the fine lines around my eyes, my tight tee-shirt showing my underweight body and small breasts that stopped growing around the time they started.

Behind my brown eyes, though, was something that was not me. It was accusation and shame. I felt dirty and used…as if I’d been selling my body. No, that’s not right; sex work is at least honest. It was more like I was forced to sell my body to any and all comers, and the pimp forcing me was myself.

I covered the mirror to avoid my own accusatory glare and dressed in my street clothes. As I reached for the door, it swung open.

“If you hate it so much, why don’t you quit and do something different?” The Council’s Sergeant-at-Arms stood in the doorway. He looked like a spry septuagenarian at first glance. A closer look, however, revealed that his six-foot frame moved with the easy grace of a young man, and his ice-blue eyes had an unnerving intensity.

“Magus Andronicus. What are you doing here?”

“Please, Kath, call me Andy.” His smile, broad and warm, never reached his eyes.

“Fine, Andy. I know this isn’t a social call, so out with it.”

“Not here,” he said. “You look starved. Let me buy you dinner.”

“I look starved because I am,” I said. “This job doesn’t pay well at all. And before you say, ‘Do something else,’ you know I don’t have any other marketable skills.”

“You’re saying that sex work might be a better choice? Even though you’re flat as a board?”

I huffed and at the same moment felt embarrassed that I’d let him get to me and had reacted like a moody teen. He chuckled and led me across the street to the diner.

It was busy, so I thought it odd that he felt it was a better place to talk. I didn’t have a choice, though, so I followed him to a table and let him order a bacon cheeseburger with an egg on it and large fries for each of us. It was more calories than I’d eaten in a single sitting in months.

While I stuffed my face, I saw the subtle movements of his left hand and felt the magic swirl around us. I recognized the privacy spell. Any person overhearing our conversation would hear only the most trivial thing that they’d prefer to actively ignore.

It worked well for people, but not for recording devices. I wondered if that was why he chose to talk here rather than at the theatre.

“I’ll begin while your mouth is too busy to talk back,” he said. “We’ve let you get away with the minor teleportation, illusion, and levitation spells, as long as they can’t be differentiated from parlor tricks.”

I nodded and continued savoring the juicy, fatty burger.

“Tonight, though, you went too far.” He took a drink of his water. “You let your magic touch a normie; she felt it.”

I swallowed hard. “Wait, that’s what this is about?” I rolled my eyes. “And what do you call what you’re doing now?”

“Interrogating a criminal,” he said. The false smile was gone, and his mouth was set as hard as his eyes.

“By doing the very thing you accuse me of?”

“When you have the kind of control I have,” he said, “you’ll learn how to directly influence the normies without them feeling it. It only took me a hundred years to learn it.”

“So, what’s the verdict?”

“We know you’re guilty,” he said, “there’s no verdict to reach.”

“You really need to keep up with changes in language usage. What happens now?” I asked.

“You will be forbidden to do any magic among outside the collegium for a period of fifty years. Punishable by death.”

I felt myself deflate. My whole body felt heavy, and the greasy food sat in my belly like a lump. I was screwed. “If I don’t use magic for fifty years, I’ll age so rapidly that I’ll be dead of old age before the end of the sentence.”

“That’s an unfortunate side-effect of the sentence,” he said with the first smile I’d ever seen reach his eyes.

“You’re a sick bastard.”

“I’ve heard that, yes.” He took a bite of his burger and chewed it thoroughly while staring at me. He swallowed with a satisfied sigh. “If you want to continue to use magic, I guess you’ll need to move back to the collegium.”

“What am I supposed to do there?” I asked. I knew that no one stayed at the collegium for free after graduating.

“There’s an opening for a primary teacher for the five-year-olds. I’m sure they would appreciate your help.” If he was expecting a reaction, he didn’t show it. “You’ve had ten years of practice with what, five shows a week?”

“When does this start?”

“As soon as we leave; you only have one shot at this. You can either come with me to the collegium or make your own way without magic.”

“I suppose the Council has already sealed and bound it? It’s done?”

“The bond is sealed the moment I step out that door.”

I smirked. Since I’m already in trouble, I thought, I might as well make it worth it. I remembered his leering gaze, his raw, unfiltered lust. I reached out until I found him.

His thoughts were open to me. He was fantasizing about me begging him for sex; calling him “Daddy.” I fought back the urge to vomit. A movement of my right hand within my left and it was done.

“What did you do?”

“You said it’s binding once you step out that door,” I said, “so I just took care of a minor annoyance before it goes into effect.”

He reached out with his mind, following the tendrils of my spell. “I’m still not sure what you did, but it was the man with the woman who felt your magic earlier.”

“Right. They reminded me of Barbie and Ken, but only if Ken was a perverted creep who ignored Barbie on a date to drool over a random woman on a stage.”

“And?”

I sighed. “I was going to just give him a minor case of erectile dysfunction until I saw his fantasies. So…the Ken doll is now hung like a Ken doll.”

“Hung like a…you mean…?”

“Exactly.”

“You say I’m sick?” His eyes betrayed a moment of humor, as though only an act of cruelty could reach his centuries-buried emotions.

I shrugged. “What? It’ll wear off in a couple months. In the meantime, he might learn that not every woman is a porn actress there for his amusement.”

Andy shook his head. He rose and started for the door. “This will probably add another fifty years to your sentence.”

I followed him, laughing. “Worth it.”

prompt: Start your story with a character facing a situation that isn’t awful, but isn’t great.

available at Reedsy

Madison shifted from foot to foot as she waited for her boss to get off the phone. That he had called her in just before the end of shift was worrying. That’s when people get fired, she thought.

Her hardhat hung by the strap from her hand, her heavy gloves inside it. Red hair, flattened from the straps of the same safety device, was held back from her pale, freckled face in a single braid that was safely tucked inside her collar. She kept watch on the traffic outside the window with her blue-green eyes.

Finally hanging up the phone, Mr. Johnston looked up the nervous woman. He had taken to shaving his head bald when his hair began thinning and made up for its loss with his full beard of mussy brown shot through with grey.

“Mads, I know you’re itching to get out of here, so I think I have something for you,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Out of here? Your office?”

“No, no. Out of the warehouse. Out of this district.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“In fact, it’s out of the city.”

“It’s what?”

“It’s a promotion. You’ve been in the warehouse too long already, and your talents are wasted.”

“What’s the position?”

“Shipping manager.”

She pointed to the office next to Mr. Johnston’s. “But that’s right there. Is Mabel finally retiring?”

Johnston laughed. “No, she’s too stubborn. Besides, she’s half-elf and still has another thirty or forty good years left.” He slid a paper across his desk.

Madison picked it up with a calloused hand and looked it over. It was spelled out in black and white. “Shipping manager…nice pay bump…satellite office…hmm. It doesn’t say which satellite office.”

“Sure it does,” he said. “Hub 14-A, right there on the letterhead.”

“Where is 14-A?” she asked.

“Dancyville, Tennessee.”

“What’s out there?”

“The hub, satellite office, a couple churches, I think, probably a bar or two, grocery store, hardware store, and lots of farms.” He looked at her. “You said you had family in Nashville; it’s about two and half hours away by car.”

Madison set the paper down and scratched her head.

“If you don’t want to move, it’s not a problem. You can stay here in the ware—”

“I’ll take it.” She turned the paper toward herself and pulled a pen out of her pocket. “How soon do I have to be there?”

“Any time in the next four weeks.”

“In that case, I’d like to drive down next weekend, stay with my family in Nashville and find an apartment in…Darcyville?”

“Dancyville. Ah…you know that most of the farms there are halfling and dwarf, right? That’s not going to be a problem?”

“Not at all. Used to that. I bet most of our drivers and loaders out there are orc, right?”

“Probably not so many as around Nashville, but I’d guess around half.”

#

Madison found the only available apartments in Dancyville were all in the same small complex. It was walking distance to everything the town had to offer, including her new office. When she ran into issues trying to break her lease in the city, Mr. Johnston intervened and “sorted it out” for her.

Since she took only what she could carry in her clapped-out, thirty-year-old Corolla, moving in took all of an hour. Her neighbors were all dwarves, and most of them worked in the businesses in town or at the rail yard.

Without fail, her neighbors found an excuse for a barbecue and party every weekend. One neighbor would put their speakers out the windows, and the rest would show up with beer, meat to grill, beer, side dishes, beer, deserts, and of course, more beer. The official party kick-off would be the lighting of firecrackers as soon as the meat was ready.

After the silence of the weekdays, the noon to midnight parties in the courtyard were jarring at first. Over time, she became immune to the noise. After nearly six months there, she was invited to take part. Her potato salad — from her mother’s recipe — became a requirement every weekend. After the first two, she learned to make it in triple-sized batches. She also brought as many beers as she would drink, thinking it quite fair.

It was at one of the usual parties that Drusilla, the dwarf woman from across the hall, pulled her aside. She pointed at the dwarf running the grill as he did every weekend, and during the week at the diner attached to the bar. “Devon there is turning 100 week after next, and we want to do something special for him. Problem is, we don’t know what to do.”

Madison put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I love to plan parties. Knock on my door next Saturday morning. I’ll have a plan.”

The next morning, she woke early and got online to do some research. She began making calls right away and had almost everything sorted by the end of the week. The final piece fell into place with a call to the sixth gnome workshop she found anywhere drivable, this one just outside Memphis.

“Like a canon?” She nodded as the voice on the other end continued. “Ah, right. And if I come down there to pick it up, can you show me how to…oh, yeah, that’s even better. The more the merrier!”

She hung up the phone as her neighbor knocked on her door. “Drusilla, come on in.”

“Morning, Madison. Sorry I’m by so early, but I’ve got to do some laundry before we get started on the ’cue again.”

“No problem.” Madison talked Drusilla through her plans.

“No need to rent the genny,” Drusilla said, “I can borrow it from work for free.”

“Your boss won’t mind?”

“Nah. Free equipment rental is one of the perks of working there.”

“Well, the rest of this is a fair bit of cash, but I haven’t had anything to spend mine on, so….”

“Hush, you. We’ll divvy up the cost between all of us.”

#

The day dawned bright and clear, and everyone in the complex kept Devon away from the courtyard while the party plans were put into motion. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t keep the smell of the pit-roasted pig from wafting through the buildings, making every mouth water.

With everything in place, Madison gave the gnome from Memphis the nod. He lit off a small string of fireworks to officially start the party, and Devon stepped into the courtyard. As he did so, Drusilla fired up the generator, and the gnome set off a prepared string of mortars. Each of the five, forty-millimeter mortars contained twenty salute charges, resulting in a hundred ground-shaking booms.

As the residents were cheering, the stone-core band she’d hired from Nashville cranked into their first song. Crunching guitars, thundering bass, and booming drums ramped up the party atmosphere.

At the other end of the courtyard, the barbecue pit trailer offered a whole pig, four full briskets, and enough sausages to feed an army. In front of the trailer, a long table held every side imaginable, along with a crew of four to serve. At the end of the table, six kegs of top-quality dwarven ale sat alongside a stack of cups.

A large banner flew above the table, wishing Devon a happy 100th birthday. As everyone in Dancyville knew everyone else, the rest of the town shut down as neighbors and acquaintances filed in to celebrate with the short-order cook on a keystone birthday.

Those who hadn’t heard about the party before-hand were alerted by the fireworks and the music. Before long, the courtyard was packed with the population of the town, and most of the surrounding farmers. Humans, orcs, halflings, dwarves, three elves she didn’t realize lived in the area, and the gnome from Memphis.

In the late evening, after the band had long since finished and headed back to Nashville, and the young orc man who normally deejayed in the bar had taken over, Drusilla called Madison inside to talk to her.

“You said some fireworks, a few kegs, and a band but…wow. That band…I’ve never seen him dance that hard. How did you know he’d love them so much?”

“Whenever he chooses the music, it’s always stone-core. I did some listening online and found a local group that sounded decent and was hungry for gigs.”

“And those insane fireworks?”

“I called around. Found a gnome that makes his own mortars. Told him what it was for, and he was happy to do it for less than the cost of the fireworks, as long as he could party with us.”

“Where is he now? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He passed out under the stage, so I moved him over by the big oak tree where he wouldn’t get stepped on.”

“I recognized the barbecue catering company; they do the county fair every year.”

“Yeah, I just went with the highest rated one online that was within thirty miles.”

“Okay, last question, I swear. How the hell did you get six kegs of Horsehead Dark ale? Devon’s always complaining they can’t get it for the diner and bar.”

“I’ve heard that complaint plenty of times. I called around to the other shipping hubs, and found out that Hub 9, the Chicago hub, had some that were about to go past date. Between myself and Greg over at the diner, we talked ’em into selling them at twenty percent off wholesale, and I arranged to have them shipped. Starting next week, we’ll have four kegs shipped through our hub to Greg every Wednesday.”

“That’ll probably be the best part of his birthday,” Drusilla said. She stopped and looked at Madison. “I know I said last question, but you always bail when the party gets too loud. How did you stand it out there all day?”

Madison reached in her pocket and pulled out the pair of white foam earplugs. “Same way I dealt with the warehouse and the city back in New Amsterdam.”

prompt: Write about two people who form a bond with each other through music.

available at Reedsy

Roxy hummed a quiet song, remaining as still as she could. The little head peeked out from its hiding place behind the tree, the large ears pinned back in fear.

Roxy was careful not to react, continuing to hum the song that was stuck in her head. Whatever it was, it was frightened, and possibly wounded, if the blood on the ground belonged to it. The only way she could help would be to get the creature’s trust.

As she hummed, she heard the creature’s high-pitched whine in response. She made sure not to look directly at it, lest she scare it. The creature emerged from behind the tree.

It was no more than a foot tall. A rabbit-like body below, with a humanoid trunk, arms, and head with huge, twitching, rabbit ears. She’d heard of centaurs and cervitaurs, but this was new. The human-like parts were soft and pudgy, and the face looked infantile.

In careful glances, Roxy saw that one rear leg was bloody and the creature avoided putting any weight on it. She put a slow hand out toward the creature. It tried to hop toward her and stumbled, letting out a cry. It lay down on the grass, letting out a weak wail just as any baby would being scared, hurt, and separated from its mother.

Seeing it helpless like that, Roxy couldn’t help but pick it up, careful to avoid the injured leg. She cradled it to her chest and held a finger to its face. The creature latched on, sucking on her finger.

“Right,” she said. “You’re still tiny, aren’t you?”

When it began fussing again, she went back to humming and it calmed right down. As she walked, the rocking lulled the creature to sleep. She wondered whether to seek out a doctor or a veterinarian. The vet would likely know how to treat the leg but was under no oath to keep the details of their patient private. Taurids were rare in this part of the country, and she’d never heard of a rabbit taurid. This little creature was not going to end up in a lab or “adopted” by some rich scumbag who just wanted to own something rare.

Roxy looked at the little face. Even in sleep the pain was obvious, and she felt her heart breaking. Despite all the differences, it was more like a human infant than an animal. Making up her mind, she continued past the vet’s office to the little emergency clinic.

When she walked in the doors, the nurse behind the desk jumped up and called out, “Doctor Fern!” Roxy realized that the way she carried the child, the injured leg hung in clear view, blood falling in a slow drip. She wasn’t sure when she’d stopped thinking of it as a creature but as a child, but she had.

When the doctor showed, Roxy felt a huge weight lift from her chest. The doctor was a centaur. She hadn’t been aware that any lived anywhere near her small town, but this was perfect.

“Please, I found the child in the woods. Besides the injury, I think she…he…might be hungry.”

The doctor led her through the double doors into a hallway lined with exam rooms. He opened the door of the first and motioned her in, calling out to the nurse, “Saline IV, twenty-four gauge, miraphine, and a thirty-mill bottle of infant formula. Do we have an ortho tray if I need it?”

“We do, doc.” The nurse pulled together everything they needed with a quiet efficiency. The doctor, meanwhile, had pulled on gloves while Roxy was busy rocking the child.

He lifted the child from her arms with gentle hands. Roxy found herself struggling not to snatch the child back, especially when it began to cry again. The cry was weak but steady, the tiny face turning red with exertion.

The doctor tried his best to calm the child, to no avail. Roxy knelt next to the exam table and held its little hand and hummed. The child calmed.

The nurse placed a lead apron over Roxy’s shoulders, moving an X-ray camera on an overhead armature down to point at the child’s leg. “Let’s see if she can be still enough to get a picture,” she said.

The nurse and doctor both left the room, and the camera made a short hum and clicked. They came back in the doctor nodded at the image on the computer monitor in the room. “Two foreign bodies, no breaks, no fractures.”

He turned and got the IV started. “You’re dehydrated and starving, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, pitched up an octave from his normal speaking voice. Continuing in the quiet, sing-song voice he said, “Nurse, push twelve mics miraphine.”

“Twelve micrograms miraphine, pushing.” The nurse kept her tone quiet like the doctor.

As the drug entered the little body, the face that Roxy had already memorized relaxed. The little lips sucked at nothing, and Roxy felt the nurse pushing a small baby bottle into her hand. When she offered the warm bottle, the child sucked at it eagerly, a small trickle of formula leaking from one corner of its mouth.

Occupied with feeding the child, Roxy didn’t notice the nurse cleaning the wound, shaving the leg, and rolling a cart over next to the doctor. It was only when the child’s eyes flew open wide and it cried out around the nipple that she looked.

The doctor dropped something hard into a metal pan with a “thunk”, and reached back in the hole with the long, thin tweezers. “There’s a bone fragment, but it’s not hers.” The sound of this one was a soft “tink.”

“Do we need another x-ray, doctor?” the nurse asked.

“No, it was just the two, and no breaks or fractures. The bullet went through someone else before it hit our little girl here.”

Roxy’s vision swam behind building tears. “It—it’s probably her mother. We need to find her.”

The doctor finished sewing up the little leg and bandaging it. Meanwhile, the baby girl had emptied the bottle and fell into a sound sleep. Roxy wiped the little cheek with her thumb. “We’ll find your mommy and get you home.”

A large hand rested on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. This little girl has been alone for at least a full day. We…may not find her mother…at least not alive. We’ll need to move her to the hospital overnight for more fluids and monitoring. The ambulance will be here soon.”

“Can I…go with her?”

“I’ll let the ambulance know you’re riding along when they get here,” the nurse said. “Right now, though, there’s police here to talk to you.”

It took all her willpower to leave the child sleeping in the room under the care of the nurse while she went out to the hallway to speak with the police. She told them where she’d found the child, how she’d heard its keening wail and followed it. She finished up with, “We need to find her mother. She’s probably out there hurt, somewhere. Maybe unconscious….”

This was the first look she’d actually taken at the officers. The younger, a light brown man with dark brown hair and brown eyes, shifted his weight from foot to foot and his eyes looked everywhere but at Roxy.

The older, a woman with pale skin and ruddy cheeks, orange hair pulled up in a harsh bun under her hat, stared at her with hard, blue eyes. “Her mother was brought to the hospital yesterday afternoon,” she said. “Hunting accident, supposedly, but we’re still investigating.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Roxy was giddy with relief for a moment…until she saw the officer’s face. “Is she…is…?”

“She died enroute. I’m sorry.”

Roxy collapsed to her knees, sobbing for the poor child. “What’s going to happen to her? Where will she go?”

The officer sent her subordinate away and sat cross-legged on the floor with Roxy. “Until we can locate her family, she’ll have to go into foster care. If we can’t locate them, then she’ll become a ward of the state.”

“It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not.” The officer’s hard eyes softened. “If you want to take care of her, let the social worker at the hospital know. I can start the background check for it now, if you like. I’d just need to see your ID for a moment.”

Roxy nodded, her thoughts racing to nowhere. She pulled her wallet out of her pocket and noticed the blood stain on her jacket. It was all she could do to hand the ID over without falling apart again.

The officer scanned her ID with her phone and entered something on the screen before handing the ID back. “The ambulance is pulling up now. You’re riding with the girl?”

“Ye—yeah.”

She helped Roxy to her feet and led her out to the ambulance with an arm around her shoulders. One medic helped her in as the baby was wheeled to the ambulance by the other on a gurney to which she was strapped in by a padded harness and wearing the tiniest diaper.

The ride to the hospital seemed interminable, but the girl slept through it all, the gentle rocking keeping her out. Roxy kept her finger in the grasp of her tiny hand the whole way.

Once in the hospital there was a moment of confusion, as the ER doctor looked at the bandage and the chart. “Why are they doing surgery there?” she asked, flipping to the last page of the chart. “Oh, lucky little girl.”

She turned to Roxy. “Are you the guardian?”

“Um…I don’t know? I found her, and don’t want to leave her alone, especially since her mother….” She couldn’t continue as her throat constricted and tears blocked her vision.

“I’ll put that down as ‘Yes’, the doctor said. And Doctor Fern will be listed as the admitting doctor. He’s our head of pediatric surgery.”

The doctor looked human, rich, warm-brown skin, black braids, and deep-brown eyes, but her ears had a slight point to them. Roxy knew there were all types in the city, but she generally didn’t go there unless it was urgent, and she mostly avoided everyone else.

Rather than stare, she watched as the child was lifted from the ambulance gurney to the small hospital bed. Once the gurney was out of the way, Roxy was right back by her side, her finger held in the tiny grasp, humming to soothe her as she began to fuss again.

“I’m Doctor Miraux, and I’ll be on duty tonight. Looks like we’re monitoring. Making sure she’s eating, and urinating, and not spiking any fevers. Will you be spending the night in the room with her?”

Roxy nodded. If she had her way, she’d never leave her side.

During the night, the child woke her three times. The first two times, she wanted a bottle, and Roxy changed her tiny diaper, careful not to move her leg too much. She hummed as she did so and continued until the child had gone back to sleep.

The third time the child woke her with a high-pitched screech. Roxy bolted upright and grabbed her little hand. “It’s okay, little one, you’re not alone.” She hummed as the child cried, then hiccupped, then went back to sleep sucking her lip.

Roxy woke in the morning to the smell of coffee. Her eyes burned and her mouth felt like sandpaper. She looked up to see a stout woman, thick, horn-rimmed glasses on a pink, grandmotherly face beneath a white halo of hair. The woman held out a tray of hospital breakfast, complete with coffee and orange juice to Roxy.

“Thanks.” Until she began eating, Roxy had no idea how hungry she was. She gulped down the orange juice at once and took her time with the coffee.

“I’m Miriam Walker, social worker for Hillside General. And you must be Roxy Parker.”

“Y—yes.”

“I have your background check from officer Bevins that you spoke to yesterday. I just need to know if you’ve changed your mind. Sometimes, things look different in the light of a new day.”

“No!” Roxy steeled her gaze. “I’m not leaving this little girl alone. She deserves better.”

Miriam smiled. “Her name is Isobel Jean Maes. Her mother, Renata Neesken Maes, passed away two days ago, and has no living family we can find. We still don’t know who the father is but we’re looking.”

Roxy looked at the little girl, starting to stir and fuss. She hummed the same song again, and lightly sang out, “My love Isobel…living by herself….” Isobel cooed.

 “She’s no doubt traumatized right now,” Miriam said, “but children this age are resilient. After observing you here all night, I’ve already approved you as temporary guardian. It will take some time to get Isobel in the system and maybe find a better fit for permanent place—”

“How do I apply to make it permanent?”

“You’ll have to fill out an adoption request, and it will need to be processed by Social Services. I’ve already prepared a packet for you with the forms and information, along with Isobel’s medical records. My card is stapled to the front. Feel free to call me with any questions.” Miriam put the packet on the table and held out a clipboard. “If you could sign on the bottom, you’re set to go. Press hard, you’re making four copies.”

Roxy signed, and Miriam removed the pink copy from the bottom and placed it in the packet. Miriam gave her and the child a warm smile. “Anything you need, call me.”

Doctor Fern entered as Miriam left. “Let’s see how our little girl is doing today.” His voice was again the soft, high, singsong he’d used in the urgent care. After changing the bandage, aided by a pacifier and Roxy’s humming, he signed off on the paperwork.

He spoke to Roxy in his normal voice, a rich baritone. “I’ve prescribed antibiotics for little Isobel. One milliliter, morning and night, until it’s gone. As a new mother, you’ll need diapers, size P-3 to start, standard formula, thirty milliliters per feeding, and as much as she wants after. She’ll be ready to start on solid food in about two more months. Leputaurs, although they aren’t really rabbits, are primarily herbivorous, so no meat or fish. The occasional egg-enriched bread or cake is fine, though, and dairy is recommended as long as she handles it well.

“The hospital will send you home with the antibiotics, some diapers, some formula, a car seat, and a small, infant-safe plush toy. I’d recommend picking up more diapers and formula on the way home. She’ll grow much faster than a human baby, so be ready for that.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Doctor.”

“Just take care of her, that’s thanks enough. And if you need a pediatrician, I’m on duty at the urgent care center in Lakeview every Friday. It’s long drive to the city, and I’d love to keep seeing her.”

“You will.”

Roxy sat next to Isobel’s car seat in the back of the cab. Roxy sang her to sleep and looked at her little, pink face with an overflowing of affection. “You had a rough beginning, little girl, but I’ll make sure the rest goes better for you.”

prompt: A character finds an old roll of film, and takes it to be developed. What do they find?

available at Reedsy

Stephanie disconnected the call and heaved a sigh. Her mother’s sudden death had been yet another upheaval in her life. Just like the night before her eleventh birthday, when she’d been ripped out of home and school to travel across the country.

Then, it had been her mother’s sudden flight from her father. She knew there’d been tension in their marriage, but no idea how bad it was. What exact thing led to their middle-of-the-night escape from home with a single suitcase her mother refused to talk about. The most she would say was that her father’s nature was impossible to deal with.

In the years that followed, Stephanie often noticed her mother looking at her as if she was unsure what she was seeing. When she confronted her mother about it, she said something about her father’s heritage. She remembered him as a large, powerfully built man, always smiling, gregarious and charming, able to talk almost anyone into anything.

When she’d first moved out to go to college, she had tried to find her father, with no luck. By the time she’d completed her undergrad degree, she’d given up.

Now, she’d had to leave in the first semester of her master’s studies to arrange her mother’s meager estate. A run-down, one-bedroom cottage on a postage-stamp parcel of land, a clapped-out third or fourth-hand car that was more rust than metal, and a modest bank account.

She’d had the car hauled off to the wrecking yard. Selling the house was taking more time than Stephanie would have liked. Unless she could find someone to buy it “as is,” there remained a great amount of work to get it to pass inspection.

That morning’s call, however, was the first time she’d heard of anything in storage. That it was in deep-freeze storage since they’d first fled was worrisome. What sort of awful thing would her mother have stored frozen?

There was nothing to be done about it but go clear out the storage. The storage fees had been pre-paid, but the company was shuttering their doors.

Stephanie found the company on the outskirts of the industrial area. The exterior of “CryoStorage Meat Lockers” didn’t inspire any confidence. The bare concrete block construction with crumbling mortar and layer upon layer of gang tags made her nervous about parking there.

Spying a security camera by the front door, she parked where her car was in direct line of sight of it. Entering the building, she felt rather than heard the hum of the cooling equipment.

“Come to clear out your storage?” The wrinkled, grey man behind the counter looked as if he’d weathered the years no better than the building.

“Yes.” Stephanie laid out a copy of the legal paperwork that declared her executor of her mother’s will. “I believe the attorney said it was lot number J-32.”

“You got the key?”

“Uh, no. We didn’t find any keys in her things. Not even house keys.”

“No problem. I got the masters.” He pulled a ring with a dozen keys from beneath the counter and shrugged on a heavy coat. “At least it’s a small one. Follow me.”

He led her out a heavy door to a hallway where the hum of machinery was uncomfortable. Heavy freezer doors lined one side of the hall, each with a letter. He stopped at the one marked “J” and picked a key from the ring before opening it. “It’ll be a mite cold in there.”

As the door swung open, biting, frigid air spilled out, creating gouts of fog swirling around their feet. The thermometer on the far wall showed it as minus forty degrees, and the rest looked more like a bank vault than a meat locker. Deposit boxes lined the walls and the old man stepped in without hesitation, putting his key in number 32 and swinging it open.

Stephanie rushed to the box and looked inside. There was a shoe box closed with duct tape that had long ago lost its adhesion. She pulled it out and hurried out of the freezer, the cold stabbing daggers into her. Around the corner from the door, she set the frozen box down as her fingers protested the chill.

The old man shut the deposit box and then the freezer door. “You going to be all right, young lady?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what she’d want to freeze for all these years, but I guess it’s just something else to get rid of. You have a trash can?”

“I do, but you’re not putting that in it until you look.”

“Why?”

“It might be something illegal for all I know, and I’m not taking the fall for anyone but myself.”

She picked up the box and heard something inside shift. Whatever it was, it was light.

Back in the office, she set the box on the counter and lifted the lid. Inside, sealed in a freezer bag, was a disposable camera. Stephanie recognized it as the same type her mother would buy when they went on vacations, not that they’d taken any trips after leaving her father.

“So, you want me to throw that out?” the old man asked.

“I—I’ll keep the camera, but can you recycle the box?”

“Sure, sure. Looks like there’s a bit of a refund coming on that unit. Is the address on file still good?”

“Um, no. Just keep the copy of the documents and use the contact info there.”

Stephanie drove back through the downtown area, such as it was, and parked in a half-empty lot. The camera sitting on the seat next to her nagged at her. Did it have answers, or just more questions?

She pulled out her phone and searched for film developing. The nearest was a one-hour photo place on the next block. She picked up the camera and walked there.

The bored, purple-haired attendant watched her enter and set the camera on the counter. She pushed a form and pen across the counter to Stephanie.  “One hour, or overnight?”

“One hour, if you can. Assuming anything is salvageable.”

The attendant picked up the camera and looked at the date stamped on the bottom. A frown crossed her face. “Thirteen years. How was it stored?”

“In that bag, in a box, in a minus forty deep-freeze. My mother must have stored it as soon as we….”

A pierced eyebrow rose. “Tell you what, I don’t trust the machine with this. I’ll do it manually, but it’ll take closer to two hours. Just put your cell number on the form, and I’ll call you as soon as it’s ready.”

“Thanks.”

Stephanie wandered around the downtown area before settling into a coffee shop to relax and wait. The town struggling to be a city bustled around her with a false sense of urgency. It hadn’t changed in the five years she’d been gone.

She was on her third cup of coffee when her phone rang. “Yes?”

“Y—your pictures are ready.” She sounded shaken.

“I’ll be right there.” She was already out the door by the time she hung up, and she joined in the bustle around her, struggling to keep herself from running.

The attendant looked as if she’d seen a ghost. The envelope of photos sat on the counter as far away from her as possible.

“How much?”

“N—nothing. Just…get those away from me.”

Stephanie pulled a twenty out of her purse. “Here, keep it.”

“Did you say your mother took these?”

“Yeah.”

“You…may not want to look at these.”

“Why?”

“If these were digital, I’d be convinced they were fake. But…if that’s real….”

With shaking hands, Stephanie pulled the photos out of the envelope and began going through them, one by one.

The first was a picture of the Casa Grande Dispatch, dated July 12th, 2007, in a newspaper rack. The photos all had time stamps in the bottom right corner and the dates agreed. Next was a picture of her father’s truck, license plate clearly visible, in a motel parking lot.

Stephanie thought she knew where this was going. The next picture was her father’s nude body, atop an unknown young woman in the throes of passion. The harsh shadows thrown by the flash fell across the cheap decor of the low-budget motel room.

The next few pictures showed her father scrambling off the top of the woman, who dove for the far side of the bed. He turned toward the camera, his eyes completely black, no whites showing at all. In the last few pictures, horns grew from his head, leathery wings sprouted from his back, and a whip-like tail swiped at the camera.

She knew it was her father, even in the last frame where his face was distorted in rage, sharp fangs on display and forked tongue curling out. She looked at the time stamps. From the first picture catching him in the act, to the tail-thrashing last was a total of eighteen seconds. Not enough time for makeup and contacts or any kind of trickery.

Now she knew why they’d fled, and what “heritage” her mother was talking about, but it raised a new question for her. If that…thing…was her father, what was she?

prompt:  Start your story with the narrator or a character saying “I remember…”

available at Reedsy

I remember…how could I not? I knew it would be an important day for me, but not like that.

Graduating from the police academy…that’s a big deal, no matter who you are. For a gnome, though, it was momentous. I was the first gnome to complete the New Amsterdam Police Academy, and the only female in my class to pin and cuff our hand-to-hand instructor solo. Twenty years of halfling martial arts came in handy to get that slippery elf on the floor.

Commissioner Laura O’Leary gave the commencement address and handed out the badges, standing by as the candidate’s chosen person to pin the badge did the honor. Next to her stood Deputy Bureau Chief Thornhill, the highest-ranking halfling in the NAPD.

The commissioner was short for a human, and was completely hidden behind all of the candidates before me as they accepted their badges and the active or retired officer they chose to pin it on did so. I, of course, was far shorter than she.

She had asked to pin my badge, and of course I said yes to such an honor. It was as she was pinning my badge that I saw it. A small, red dot appeared just above my head, and was moving up toward her heart.

“Gun!” I grabbed her by the knees and twisted my body, toppling her to the floor just as the shot rang out. For the briefest second, I thought I’d been hit, but realized what the sharp pain in my left breast was. O’Leary’s momentary shock was replaced by a no-nonsense, take-charge demeanor.

“Shots fired, shots fired,” she called on the radio. “Block all the exits. No one goes anywhere until we find this asshole. Active shooter, Hedstrom Theatre.” She pulled her weapon and began scanning what she could see from behind the podium.

Dispatch responded by calling all available units for backup, and called on SWAT to respond, standard for an active shooter in a public setting.

Thornhill, as well, had his pistol drawn. He made his way to the edge of the stage, scanning for any sign of the shooter.

It was then that O’Leary realized she was still laying on top of me. She rolled off and asked, “Are you okay, Farber?”

“Yes, ma’am, except for the badge.” As I pulled the pin of the badge out my breast, I looked at the hole in the wall, and made a rough guess as to where her chest had been a moment before. I could visualize the bullet’s trajectory and extrapolate back to its origin. “The shooter’s on the lower balcony level, a little to the right of center.”

“You saw him?”

“No. I saw the laser dot, and based on the height of the dot at your heart, and the height of the hole in the wall, together with the slight deviation to the left of the podium—”

She cut me off. “You’re good with eyeballing geometry?”

“Something like that.”

She was about to key her radio when someone else transmitted. “Rifle abandoned on the lower balcony level, no one around.”

“Touch nothing, keep everyone else away.”

“10-4.”

I looked at the commissioner. “Who wants you dead?” I asked.

“Who doesn’t?” she asked back with a chuckle.

There were at least as many active police officers as candidates in attendance, and everyone quickly paired up with an armed officer to spread out and search the building. O’Leary sent one third of the group to search from the roof down, one third to search from the basement up, and left the last to secure all the exits.

I was paired up with her in this last third. Embarrassing as it was, I wasted no time telling her, “Ma’am, I need to pee.”

“Not surprised,” she said. “I’ll walk with you to the john.”

Despite the chatter on the radio, and the large number of people combing the building from top to bottom, it was silent in that way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

She stood outside the door as I went into the women’s room. I took care of my business and was washing my hands when I smelled it…gunpowder. I took my time drying my hands, watching the only closed stall door. When I didn’t see any movement, I got an idea.

I opened the door to the hall and signaled to O’Leary to be quiet and waved her in. We let the door close as I pointed to the stall. For a moment, nothing happened, then the stall door opened, and an elf woman stepped out, wearing a candidate uniform.

She looked at us and jumped. “Oh! Ma’am. Hey, Farber.”

“What are you doing in here?” O’Leary asked.

“I, uh…ran. I was scared.”

“Who are you?” I asked. Her nameplate said Macza which is pretty much the Elvish equivalent of Smith. “How is it I spent six months living in the Academy dorms and never once saw you before today?”

“Come on, Farber, you know me.” She moved closer; her actions more casual than her demeanor.

“Let’s everyone relax,” O’Leary said. She stepped in front of me with her hands behind her back. She was pointing at the cuffs in the pouch at the back of her belt. When she felt me lift them out she spread her hands out. “Everyone calm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the elf said.

O’Leary let her arms drop to her sides, and the elf struck; a powerful blow that rocked her head and loosed blood from her nose. O’Leary fell to the floor and the elf ran for the door.

I saw the opportunity and jumped, cuffing her wrist to the door’s heavy, steel handle. I helped the commissioner back to her feet.

O’Leary nodded at me and handed me her second pair of cuffs. “Your collar,” she said.

I stepped behind the elf, who was now under the aim of the commissioner’s pistol. “Put your left hand behind your back,” I said. I cuffed her left wrist and waited for O’Leary to release the cuff from the other wrist to pull that hand behind her.

When the elf tried to twist free, I pulled on the cuff and kicked the back of her left knee, sending her to the ground. With the fight gone out of her, I cuffed her other wrist.

I Mirandized her, checked her for weapons, and kept her there on her knees until other units came in to cart her away.

It turned out that the elf worked for Gavin Blackwell, as in the Blackwell syndicate. The attempt on O’Leary was retaliation for his uncle, the previous syndicate leader, who died during a shoot-out with police just a few days earlier.

So, before our class’s graduation ceremony was complete, I had my first collar, Sephia Elstrah. A professional killer, and the key to bringing down the rest of the Blackwell syndicate.

I remember. How could I not?

prompt: Format your story in the style of diary entries.

available at Reedsy

Tuesday, 2^nd February 1904

Mother says I should keep a diary to practice my writing. I think she just wants time to herself. The laudanum the doctor gave her for her nerves makes her sleep most of the day away.

Thursday, 18^th February 1904

Mother tried to introduce me to the Grover’s son. I can’t even remember his name. He was most unremarkable. I told her I wasn’t interested in a husband, and she said I’m nearly a spinster. My eighteenth birthday is in a month. I still have time to find someone that piques my interest. As long as I marry before twenty-two, I believe mother will be satisfied.

Sunday, 13^th March 1904

Happy birthday to me? I wanted to have a garden party, but mother forbade it. She is taking the laudanum more frequently, and her mood has soured at all times. Perhaps when father returns from Europe she will improve.

I spent the day with the maid, Catherine. Mother and father always act like they can’t understand her because of her Irish accent, but I think they just don’t want to have to speak to “the help.” She gave me a lovely hand-made card and a hair ribbon.

Friday, 6^th May 1904

Father finally returned from Europe, with some affliction that requires frequent visits from the doctor and mercury pills even though he looks hale. It left mother distraught, and they have been bickering every moment they are both awake and in the same room. Father has been sleeping in his study.

Friday, 20^th May 1904

The bickering turned physical today when mother flung a vase at father’s head. Thanks to mother’s screaming, I know what ails father. It is possible that everyone for miles around now knows he has syphilis.

Catherine was a dear. She offered to take me to a party in the city. She said that a young woman shouldn’t have to hear her parents carry on so. I agreed. I’m dressed and ready to go, writing this while I wait for Catherine to finish her chores. I don’t think I could find my way alone.

Friday, 30^th June 1904

I’ve been going to the parties in Hell’s Kitchen every Friday and can make my way there and back on my own. They are rather informal affairs, but men and women mingle and drink gin or whiskey. At some point in the evening, the music starts. Nearly everyone can sing or play an instrument, and the music is lively.

I’ve met someone that piques my interest, but there is a problem. It isn’t a man who has caught my eye, but rather a woman about my age, Aine. Her accent isn’t as thick as Catherine’s, but her voice is melodic. Every time I close my eyes, I see hers; green, haunting, something sad behind them, peering into my very soul.

Wednesday, 3^rd August 1904

Mother left today to stay with her sister and brother-in-law in Philadelphia. Father mopes about the house and does nothing until he flies into a rage. I’ve noticed his hands trembling at times, and his moods are unpredictable and severe.

Aine has offered to put me up in the city and I have packed. I will leave this evening when the carriage arrives for me.

Over the past few weeks, mother had ignored me, my father, Catherine, everything except her laudanum. The house was quiet until last week when father propositioned Catherine and hit her when she rejected him. She left for good and hasn’t been replaced, and mother and father let the house fall to disarray.

With mother’s departure, the groundskeeper left. Father will be left alone in the house with nothing but his own moods for company.

Thursday, 4^th August 1904

Aine has shared a secret with me. It’s unbelievable, but she has shown me enough proof to verify it. I’m certain I should fear her, but I can’t help but love her.

I have some time to make a decision whether I will be around for only a little while or join her permanently. Mother would, no doubt, be apoplectic about it, unless she was still in her laudanum. Father would probably explode in rage at the thought.

Still, she has required that if I wish to join her, I say goodbye to my family before we go.

Sunday, 4^th September, 1904

I talked to father yesterday. I told him I would be leaving with Aine for good. I felt it best I be honest with him, as far as I could without sharing her secret. When I told him I was in love with her, he seemed resigned. He was listless and his tremors have grown worse.

Talking with mother today was both easier and harder than I thought it would be. When I showed up to her house, my aunt grabbed me in a tight hug and wept. She took me to the cemetery, to mother’s fresh grave.

Although it was difficult to find out she was dead, it was the easiest conversation I’d had with her in years, and the closest I’d ever come to feeling like she listened. I told her everything, including Aine’s secret.

I spent the night at my aunt’s house, where she told me what had happened. Mother had taken her laudanum on Monday morning and lay down for a nap, from which she never rose.

Friday, 9^th September 1904

It’s a new moon tonight. The night is pitch dark and the humidity is stifling. Tonight I join Aine. I’m frightened but more excited.

Sunday, 10^th September 1905

After the revelation of the first night, I forgot about this diary entirely. I only came across it today as we are packing to travel to Spain. How would I describe that first night? It was more than I could’ve imagined. That darkest of nights became as midday. The stars shone more brightly than any lamp, and I saw colors I had never seen before.

I had feared it would hurt, but the pain was brief, and mixed with desire and pleasure. The love I already felt for Aine grew only deeper, subsuming all that I was in a longing for her, and a hunger for blood. I don’t know when I will next write in this diary, but I will pack it with our things.

Tuesday, 1^st August 1916

It seems we will be moving again. Aine says we can’t spend too long in one area without being found out. I’ll miss the countryside around Madrid; it’s positively breathtaking by moonlight.

We were planning on going somewhere else in Europe, but they say there’s a war going on. A few of the farmers’ sons have left to join the French Foreign Legion to help out, while Spain remains neutral. The only thing we know about it is what we hear over a late dinner. Yes, we still eat and drink normal food. We only need blood a few times a month.

Tuesday, 5^th September 1939

I had forgotten all about this diary until I came across it unexpectedly this evening while packing up essentials. I’ve been trying for weeks now to convince Aine that we need to leave Warsaw. She doesn’t care about what she calls “the affairs of men,” but I’ve been watching politics closely for over a decade, and I saw this coming.

I knew the funny little man in Germany would be trouble, and I was right. We’re preparing to leave for Danzig, where one of Aine’s contacts will meet us with a seaplane. We’ve never flown, so we’re both looking forward to it. In the meantime, however, we must make our way north through the occupying forces.

The one good thing that came from all this is that hunting is easy. No need to hide our kills or limit ourselves to those who won’t be missed. There are thousands of invaders to choose from. We just need to wait for one of them to get separated from their unit, which seems to happen all the time.

Monday, 6^th August 1945

We’ve been staying in Boston for last two years while the war raged on. Today’s paper had the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard. A bomb that erased an entire city. I don’t really have much to say about it, except that even Aine was shocked to tears.

Thursday, 9^th August 1945

They’ve done it again. The depravity of men has reached new lows. These atom bombs will be the death of the planet. Never again will I feel guilt at killing when I need to feed. Humanity is cursed.

Thursday, 13^th March 1986

I’ve not written anything in this diary since the bombing of Nagasaki. Today would be my 100^th birthday and, I guess, I was feeling a bit nostalgic. The weather in Hokkaido is beautiful, and the plum blossoms are stunning in the light of the new moon.

Aine and I are drifting apart. We often spend weeks apart, only to come together again and pick up as if we hadn’t. I’m not certain when it began, but I would guess about the time we left Boston for Lima, in 1951. Time has a different meaning now.

Another development: Aine has gotten careless on some of her feeds, and I’ve had to clean up after her. I’m not sure whether it’s carelessness or a depression of some sort, and she won’t talk to me about it.

Thursday, 9^th September 2004

It is my hundredth anniversary with Aine, as one of her kind. I finally met her maker, Appius. He’s soft-spoken and prefers Latin to any of the other languages we all speak. His eyes, though, frighten me by the deadness of them.

He examined me, tasted my blood, and told Aine “this one is fit to leave the nest, and will not have to be put down.” Her relief was obvious, but I was unsure whether that relief was that he wasn’t going to kill me, or that she had tacit permission to leave me to my own devices.

Wednesday, 21^st May 2008

Aine and I parted ways. She’s gone to Istanbul and I’m going to Sydney. We still love each other or, at least, I still love her, but we’re not in the same place we were over a hundred years ago. I’m definitely not the same person I was then.

Perhaps someday, I’ll be as disconnected from the world as she and Appius, but there is still so much to experience. We made a promise to meet every decade. We’ll be meeting in Madrid in 2018.

Friday, 25^th March 2022

We didn’t meet in 2018, or any year since. Appius and I found each other in Mexico City last night. I’ve learned to sense others of our kind, and I knew he was somewhere around Texcoco. I sat in Parque Hundido and waited on him to show. He hasn’t heard from Aine either. He fears she may have walked into the sun, but I doubt it.

I convinced him to continue his search, and I will do the same. I’m worried about her…worried that she has been discovered. At the same time, there is a part of me that hopes that if she is gone, that in her going she found, even if only for a brief moment, the happiness that has so long eluded her.

prompt: Write about a character who tells a lie which turns out to be true — or a truth which turns out to be a lie.

available at Reedsy

The difference between an enchanted item and a cursed one is often one of perspective. Not discounting the truly cursed items that drive the holder insane or afflict with a deadly disease anyone that touches them. Those exist, but they make up less than two percent of all items currently labeled as cursed.

Miriam held the silver ring up to the light. It was the more common kind of cursed item. Someone had decided at some point that its power was twisted in some way and labeled it cursed.

She set the ring down on the counter, careful not to speak while holding it. “Tell me what you want for it, miss Tabita,” she said to the wizened old gnome woman behind the counter.

Tabita brushed her white curls out of her eyes, which sparkled their bright blue. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, sweetie, but are you sure you want this one?” She pointed at a narrow band of gold in the display. “That’s a wish ring, you know. Special price for you.”

Miriam shook her head. “No thanks, too dangerous. This is the one I want.”

“Too dangerous? And this one isn’t?” Tabita shook her head. “If you’re sure, eight thousand.”

Miriam whistled. “That’s steep. Five.”

“Seven and a half, that’s coming way down for you.”

“I can go six.”

Tabita frowned. “Seven. I can’t really go lower than that.”

“How about we split the difference,” Miriam said. “Six and a half.”

Tabita’s brows knitted. “Tell you what, throw in a growler of the Dwarven ale you picked up last week, and we’ll make that deal.”

Miriam extended her hand for Tabita to shake. “Done.”

After running her credit card, Tabita said, “I’ll hold this for you here. You bring the growler and it’s a done deal.”

#

One fewer $300 growler of Dwarven ale in her pantry, and a cursed ring sealed in a cloth-lined, leather pouch in her pocket, Miriam set out for home. Once home, she set the pouch in her safe and locked it up tight.

Knowing how the ring worked, she sat up most of the night and planned how to best use it. She could use its effect on someone else, or herself. If she planned carefully, she could do both at the same time.

She spent a restless night, imagining scenarios where she used the ring to ruin a few, select people’s day. No. Not falling down that rabbit hole.

When she finally fell asleep in the wee morning hours, she’d hatched a plan. It would help her, and someone else that deserved it, far more than she.

#

The atmosphere in the office was glum. Everyone there knew that Elastic Front Business Services was struggling, having lost several of their largest clients to their larger competitor, Exeter Global. The sales team was having yet another motivation meeting, before getting on the phones and trying to drum up business.

As the HR director, Miriam spent a good deal of time one-on-one with Edria, the lithe, pale elf that owned the business. The state of the business obviously weighed heavily on her.

“Hey, Edie, what do you say we go for a walk?”

“Sure. I need to clear my head.”

They walked through the downtown corridor, Edria being candid with Miriam. “If we don’t get a lot of new business this week, we may have to shut down. It’ll suck for our existing customers, but if we can’t even keep the lights on, we can’t continue servicing them, either.”

They stopped in a convenience store, where Miriam bought a SuperLotto ticket, with numbers chosen at random by the machine. The chance of winning was one in three hundred million. It could be considered true, within reason, that she did not have the winning ticket. She also bought them both coffee and motioned Edria to sit with her on the bench outside the store.

“I have something,” Miriam said, “but I don’t know how much it will help. If you want to try it, I’m willing.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a ring that eats fear,” she lied. “But it only works once a year.” That part was true.

“How does it work?”

“I’m hoping we can both use it at the same time,” she said. “So, we’ll hold the ring, and on the count of three we both say out loud our biggest fear. Not like phobias, or anything, but concrete things.”

“Like having to close the business?” Edria asked.

“Exactly,” she said, “but more direct and concrete. Like, say, ‘We won’t get the clients we need this week to keep the business open’. Something like that.”

“Sounds silly, but I’m game.”

Miriam removed the ring from its pouch and held it in her palm. Edria placed her hand over Miriam’s, so they held the ring jointly. Miriam counted, “One…two…three.”

They spoke at the same time. “We’re not going to get the new business we need to keep my dream alive,” Edria said, while Miriam said, “This is not the sole, jackpot-winning ticket for the SuperLotto drawing tonight.”

Edria laughed and let go of Miriam’s hand. “That’s your big fear?”

Miriam carefully wrapped the ring and placed it, in its pouch, in her pocket. “Hey,” she said, “I’ve got a great job with a great boss, and I have faith in your dream. You watch. We’ll make it through this week, and then you’ll see your dream bloom.”

“I’m glad you have so much faith in me,” Edria said. “It didn’t seem to eat the fear, though. I’m still scared.”

“Maybe it takes time,” Miriam said. “Ready to go back?”

The scene when they entered the office was far more upbeat than the morning, and hectic. Salespeople were busy on the phones, and it looked like the support team was helping them answer all the calls.

Miriam smiled. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, Edie.”

Edria nodded and entered the sales area. She waited for one of the execs to finish their call, then asked, “What’s going on?”

The huge orc, his ochre skin offset by a dark grey suit and overly bleached tusks smiled. “Everyone’s leaving Exeter Global,” he said. “The former CEO just got a ten-year sentence for tax evasion, and the new CEO just got picked up in a scandal.”

“What kind of scandal?” she asked.

“Not really sure. Something to do with a trip to the Cayman Islands, an underage intern, and forty-million dollars of missing capital.”

The phones continued to ring, every line lit up. Edria shrugged. “We’ll take it. I’ll get out of your hair so you can handle the calls.” She raised her voice so everyone in the office could hear. “Anything you need to me to jump in on, just ring my line, I’ll step in where I can. And no grandfather deals for the clients who left and are coming back. They could afford Exeter; they can pay us full price for not being faithful.”

The day ended when Edria switched the phone lines over to the automated answering service. A running tally of new business had been scrawled on one the dry-erase boards in the sales area. New business totaling over two million in annual recurring revenue in one day.

“You’re going to be busy,” she said to Miriam. “We’ll need to hire more sales support, IT, and account managers ASAP.”

“Already on it,” she said. “I just need to know the open head count and the calls will go out.”

“That wasn’t a fear-eater ring, was it?”

“No,” Miriam said. “It’s a ring of reversal.”

“Isn’t that cursed? Are we going to be cursed for this?”

“It’s not like that,” Miriam said. “During its active phase, any reasonably true statement is made false.”

“Well, at least the name makes sense. And the curse?”

“No curse, just an enchantment. If someone gave you a ring, and you said something like, ‘I have everything I’ve ever wanted,’ and then suddenly didn’t, you would consider the ring cursed, right?”

Edria nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“If, instead, you got the ring and said, ‘I don’t have enough business to keep my dream alive,’ and then suddenly, you do, would you still consider it to be cursed, or just enchanted?”

Edria considered. “Well, enchanted, I guess. As long as there are no strings attached.”

“None. I’ve been tracking this ring down for ten years now. It’s called the ring of reversal, or the ring of ill fortune, depending on who’s talking about it.” Miriam smiled. “I prefer the ring of reversal, myself. I still don’t know if it worked for both of us. It only has one use per year, but I’m exceedingly glad it worked for you.”

“We should go find out.” Edria held the door for Miriam. “We’ll go to the sports bar on Fourth for dinner. The lotto numbers always show up there. My treat, unless you actually win.”

#

As they left the bar laughing, Edria said, “Thanks for dinner and drinks. Does this mean I have to find a new HR director?”

Miriam put her arm around the small elf. “Not any time soon,” she said. “I may be 940 million dollars richer, but if I didn’t work, I don’t know what I’d do with my time.”

prompt: Write a story where a character runs into someone they’ve seen in their dreams, or enters a building they’ve dreamt about before.

available at Reedsy

She was in my dream again. Six feet of whippy muscle under pale ochre skin with a splash of deep brown freckles across her nose, one tusk chipped just enough that it was noticeable, thick, black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wasn’t a beauty, small and thin for an orc, and kind of plain. Still, like every other time she showed up in my dreams, my heart skipped.

I stood under the shower, both to wake myself and to clear the dream girl from my head. Orcs weren’t usually my type. In fact, the only girl I’d ever dated that wasn’t human like myself was Gwendolyn, the gnome I dated in high school. We made an odd couple, the captain of the girls’ basketball team and the nerdy little gnome.

There were chores to do, and I needed to get my head in the game. I rinsed out the memories of Gwen, and the dream girl was there again every time I closed my eyes. To keep my mind on task I began reciting my grocery list. It was all in my phone but thinking about it before I got to the store helped me plan out my route. That was something I’d picked up from Gwen, looking at tasks in terms of efficiency.

Normally, I’d do all my running around in sweats, no makeup, hair pulled back and allowed to fluff itself into a semi-afro puff. For a change, I dressed in jeans and a loose top. I held the concealer in my hand, looking in the mirror. I thought about covering the vitiligo, then thought against it. I hadn’t hidden my skin since high school, and there was no reason to start now. My skin was a medium red-brown with patches of pinkish white. One patch intersected my right eyebrow, that half of it white rather than dark brown.

I put on some lipstick, since I still hadn’t gotten comfortable with my pale lips in the center of a large white patch on my lower face. Satisfied, I left to do my weekend chores.

Self-consciousness didn’t set in until I was pushing the cart with its wobbly wheel through the grocery store. Here I was, dressed up for someone I dreamed about. No one seemed to be paying any attention to me, except for the guy that ogled me openly. He was quickly dissuaded when I glared at him, though.

Most of my shopping done, I only needed to go to the deli counter for some ham. I turned the corner around the large coolers of energy drinks next to kombucha and overly sugared vegetable juices and there she was. Not right there, but behind the deli counter. Had I seen her there before, and my brain was reminding me?

I walked up to the counter to order, and she turned and asked, “How can I help you?”

My heart stopped for a moment, then began to pound. I stammered, unable to speak. She was no raving beauty, but something about her lit a fire inside me.

“C—can I help you?” she asked again.

“Sorry, you just…,” I said, “I thought I recognized you. How long have you worked here?”

“I just started today.” She smiled. Her smile was crooked, genuine, and completely breathtaking.

“I—uh, one pound of honey ham, please.”

“I’ll get that started for you. Anything else?”

“Your number,” I muttered under my breath.

She laughed. “You really don’t remember me, Angela?”

“I—no, but I’ve been seeing you in my dreams for a couple weeks now.”

“That would be a crappy pickup line, if I thought you were making it up.” She was already an inch shorter than me, but she squatted down another foot and held her hand out as if giving me something. “Great game, Angela. I warmed your towel on the heater.”

It snapped into place. “Grace! You look so different!”

“I’m not the short, chubby orc anymore,” she said. “Now I’m the short, scrawny orc.” Her laugh was genuine; not melodic or angelic or anything of the sort, just a hearty, genuine laugh.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. But, how…?”

“I got back into town a couple weeks ago. I saw you going into Crazy Clara’s with another woman. I didn’t think you saw me, though. I waved and you passed by.”

“I must have missed it, at least consciously.”

“Was that woman your girlfriend?”

“Huh?” There was a hint of pink rising in her cheeks, the same blush I’d seen a hundred times before when the awkward little towel girl would give me my special towel. “No, just a coworker. You should’ve come into the bar.”

She turned away and reached into the case to pull out the honey ham. “I’ve never, um, been to a gay bar.”

“It’s a great place to hang out. And not everyone there is gay.”

She still hadn’t looked back at me, setting up slicer. “With the way my parents were, I guess it still feels…I don’t know.”

“Conservative parents?”

“They…were.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I came back to take care of the house after the accident.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and I wanted to run around the counter and give her a hug.

One of the other deli workers came and whispered in her ear. She nodded and the other woman took over slicing the ham as she walked around the counter to where I was.

There was no intention in my hug other than to offer comfort, but it felt like so much more. She laid her head on my shoulder and wept. “I miss them so much.”

“I’m so sorry.”

We stood like that for a few minutes until she composed herself. “Here I am all grown up, and you’re still protecting me.”

She and Gwen ran in the same circles, although they weren’t close. Still, I’d threatened the bullies off her a time or two in high school. I guess I always did feel a little protective of all of them. “Just being me,” I said.

She stepped back. “Sorry, I bawled all over your top.”

“It’ll dry.” Before I realized what I was doing, I’d begun to wipe her tears with a gentle thumb, and she leaned her head into my palm. “Sorry if that was too forward of me.”

Grace sniffled and shook her head. “No, I liked it.” She took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “Could you go to the funeral with me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I took her hands in mine. “Of course. Just tell me where and when.” 

“Thanks. I don’t think I can handle it alone, and everyone’s gone.”

“Give me your phone,” I said, “and I’ll put my number in. You can call me any time, whether you just want to talk or whatever.”

She unlocked her phone and handed it to me. As I put my number in, I said, “And after you call me, I’ll be able to call back and ask you out on a date.”

When I handed her phone back to her, she immediately called my cell. It rang once and she hung up. “Now you have my number.” Her cheeks were burning red.

“You’re really cute when you blush,” I said. “I’ll call later this evening.”

She nodded and went back around the counter, where the other deli worker was waiting. There were whispered words between them, and Grace handed me the package of sliced ham. “I get off at four. Remember where my parents’…my house…is?”

“In the cul-de-sac off Druid, near the big park?”

“Yeah, the bright yellow house. The funeral is tomorrow. If you could pick me up at home around nine….”

“I’ll be there.” I smiled at her, my heart aching at the sadness I saw in her eyes. “I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“Thank you, Angela.” She leaned against the counter. “You know what Mercy just told me? She said we’re a sweet couple.”

“Well. You’re certainly sweet,” I said.

“I—I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“The funeral is tomorrow, and I’m sad, but I’m also happy that you’re here.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. “It’s not the right time to feel happy.”

“Hey,” I said, holding her hand across the counter, “there’s no wrong or right time or place for happiness. It comes in little pieces, here and there, and you have to grab it where you can.”

She smiled, a crooked, sweet smile beneath sad eyes, and squeezed my hand. “Grab it where I can. I like that. Call me after five?”

prompt: Write a story about someone losing faith in an institution.

available at Reedsy

Lil let out the smoke she’d been holding in, the buzz warming her brain. “I’ve always tried to do the right thing,” she said.

“I know, I know,” Viv answered before taking a deep drag from the pipe. She continued, her words muffled by the clouds of smoke that carried them, “That’s why I know you’ll do the right thing now.”

Lil ran her fingers over the patch on her sleeve; a seven-pointed star inside a circle, with the letters “CM” in the center. Below that, a patch with two parallel stripes crossing a third that sat at sixty degrees oblique designated her rank as servus inquisitor. Two simple patches that opened doors for her everywhere the Consilio Magorum had jurisdiction, which was to say, almost everywhere. She lay her head on Viv’s lap.

“I wish you could talk about it with me.”

“Me too,” Lil said, “but just like you, I can’t talk about an active case. Even when it should be closed by now.”

“What is your first instinct?” Viv asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I’m too high to think about it right now.”

Viv stroked Lil’s slick, red hair, brushing it out of her pale, freckled face. She traced the halfling’s pointed ears, eliciting a sigh. “You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know. That goes both ways.”

Viv chuckled. “I know. One thing you can tell me, though, why do you guys use Latin instead of 10 codes and normal ranks?”

“Same reason spell books are in Latin. Omnia latine altum videtur.” Lil grabbed Viv’s hand, her own pale skin contrasting sharply with the golden-brown of Viv’s. She kissed the hand, easily twice the size of her own. “Carry me to bed?”

#

Lil’s cell phone woke them far too early. Viv answered it, “Detective Sergeant Lilly Miter’s phone.”

The voice on the other end was less than friendly. “Vivian, I suppose. Get Servus Inquisitor Miter on the phone… now.”

She handed the phone to Lil with a look of resignation.

“S.I. Miter.”

“Two things; first, we have a location on the djinn. Second, I’m still waiting on your revised recommendation on the two wizards we have in custody.”

“I already gave you my recommendation. They’re not dangerous, and as they signed the agreement according to the Magic Users Accountability Act of 1963, we have to let them go, legally.” She sighed. “Send the location to my phone, and I’ll head straight there.”

“There’s a team on the way, you’ll meet them there. If you’re there first, you are not to go in alone. You got that?”

“Yeah… yes sir.”

“And if you’re not going to change your recommendation to MUAA them out, I’ll be forced to go over your head. It won’t look good for your record, and you’ll probably face an early retirement.”

Lil didn’t answer but disconnected the call instead. “I’ve got to go.”

“I figured,” Viv said. “Stay safe. I’m due in the office in a couple hours, I’ll head in early. If you get the chance we can have breakfast together, and maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Maybe. You stay safe, too.”

“I’m not a field agent, just a forensic accountant. You’re the one chasing down rogue wizards, magical creatures, and dangerous artifacts.” Viv smiled. “I’ll watch out for violent file cabinets, though.”

#

In her dark blue uniform, Lil climbed the folding ladder that led to the driver’s seat of her issued black SUV. Large enough for an orc to drive, it had pedal extenders, custom rails to move the seat closer to the steering wheel, modified airbags for the close position, and the automatic folding ladder for her to get in and out. At first, she’d felt self-conscious driving the armored and magically warded beast, but she had since got used to it.

The location was close. She learned long ago that even though they didn’t have the same rights as police or federal agents, a black SUV with the Consilio emblem and flashing green lights was generally treated the same as emergency vehicles.

Lil arrived at the motel while the team was reporting they were still ten minutes out. She parked out of sight of the front entrance and walked up to room 217 on the second floor.

She rapped on the door. “Anunit, my name’s Lilly Miter. Karl and Sera sent me.” She used the names of the wizards in custody. They had begged her to find the djinn before the Consilio and get her to safety. After what she’d seen in the past few days, she was more inclined to do so than she would have been just a week prior.

“Please, Anunit. If we don’t get out of here right now there’s a team on the way which will arrest you, and you’ll never see the outside of a cell again.”

The door opened and a slight woman, human, with rich brown, olive-tinged skin, tightly curled black hair, and deep brown eyes stood in front of her holding a small bag. “Sorry, I needed to pack. Shall we go?”

Lil led her to her SUV and pushed the remote to open the passenger door. After climbing into her seat, she started the engine. “I’m in a bind, here.”

“I can see that,” Anunit said. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the halfling. Lil could feel the magic flowing off of her. “I have only seen one other mage of your kind. You are a ‘halfling,’ correct?”

“That’s right. But as far as public records go, I’m the first halfling wizard.”

“This was nearly 3000 years ago, in Babylon.” Anunit frowned. “I understand that your superiors wish to bottle me back up.”

Lil nodded. “They consider you a ‘magical artifact’ rather than a person.”

“How are Sera and Karl? Are they safe?”

“They should be,” Lil said, “but those same superiors are pushing me to declare them dangerous and lock them up.”

“Why?”

“The average time spent studying magic to become a mage or wizard of any talent is twenty to thirty years. When two formerly non-magical people were turned into powerful wizards with a wish, it upset a lot of the old timers.”

“And these ‘old timers’ are after me because I embarrassed them?”

Lil thought about it for a moment. “You may have a point there. I wasn’t sure what they were afraid of, but it may just be their own ego.”

“How did they respond to you, when you became a wizard?”

“They were a little surprised, but they weren’t negative about my ability. It took me longer than most. I studied for twenty-two years before I could bypass my innate magical resistance and do my first minor spell.” She smiled, remembering the past. “I signed the MUAA agreement right away and joined the investigative corps less than a year later. I’m still not sure how much of our ‘innate resistance’ is hereditary and how much is cultural.”

“The other halfling mage I met could not be fooled by a glamour, nor influenced by illusion, nor damaged by magical weapons, even.” Anunit leaned back in the seat. “What are we going to do? I thought you were going to drive me somewhere away from here.”

“This vehicle is tracked with GPS; there’s nowhere I can take you in it that I won’t be found.” Lil sighed.

“What do you recommend, Lilly?”

“Please, call me Lil. At this point, I’m not sure. I always thought the Consilio was doing everything they could to protect magic users… all of them. That’s why I joined.”

“What do you think now?”

“Now I’m beginning to wonder how many of the ‘dangerous’ wizards I’ve apprehended and put in custody actually are.”

“I can vouch for Sera and Karl. Karl is harmless by nature, and they only ended up as wizards because Sera wished for the power and resources to free me. Her wish was selfless.”

“I know. The truth-sayer that ran the interrogation knows as well.” Lil leaned her head on the steering wheel. “My honest opinion is that the Consilio want them marked as dangerous and locked away because they’re both as powerful as many of the Magistrorum Consilio Magorum and didn’t work for it. And you’re far beyond even the most powerful magister.”

“They wish to declare me as a thing rather than a person in order to possess me.” Anunit smiled, but there was sadness evident in her eyes. “Sera was the first in a very long time to consider me a person rather than a possession. Still, I am a human. I was before I was trapped and am again now.”

“They may also be concerned that you could make more wizards.”

“As long I was bound to the bottle, I had no choice in my actions. Now I do have a choice.” Her smile dropped. “Yes, if I wanted, I could make more wizards. That is not an experience I want to relive, however.”

“Why?”

“The amount of energy I channeled for that left me weak and powerless for most of a year. Even when confined to the bottle, I never felt so vulnerable. If Sera hadn’t kept me hidden….”

“The team will be here any minute,” Lil said. “You can leave now, cloak yourself and head through the woods there. There’s a Cerberus bus station in the town about four miles west. I can give you cash if you need it.”

“I am hearing an implied or,” Anunit said.

“Or… you let me take you in to sign the MUAA agreement. Not at the Consilio, but at the FBI field office. It’s my next stop, anyway.”

“They are law enforcement, right?” Anunit asked.

“They are,” Lil said, “which is why I need to go there.”

“What do you wish to do there?”

“No wishing about it, I’m filling a complaint against the Consilio Magorum for holding Sera and Karl. It’s kidnapping, or at least unlawful arrest, and since they were both brought here across state lines, it’s a matter for the feds.”

Anunit’s eyes narrowed as she stared off into the middle distance. Lil could feel the magic swirling around her. “If you wish to do this, I will go along. This will most likely result in the end of your employment.”

“I’m aware, even without scrying. But if they’re going to act like this, they leave me no choice.” Three black SUVs like hers pulled into the front of the motel. Lil keyed her radio. “S.I. Miter to captus dolor. The room is empty, I haven’t gone in. Call in the forensics team and let me know what you find. I’m going to meet my wife for breakfast at the FBI field office. Dispatch, I’m ex servitio for one hour.”

The voice on the radio came back. “Confirmativum. Servus Inquisitor Miter ex servitio until 07:19.”

As she pulled out of the motel’s parking she said, “I’m probably ex servitio forever, after this.”