Of magic and more


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Fairytale Ending

The prompt at Velvet Verbosity this week is “Collection.”

FAIRYTALE ENDING

I’ve been hoarding them for years now. This morning I looked into my cabinet again to check on my collection.

 There are over fifty of them now, of every shape and size I could find. Every day I try each of the glass slippers on, but they never seem to fit! I always make sure to match the size of my foot with the victim’s immediately after she dies…it’s frustrating. But then it took Prince Charming more than a few tries to reach his Cinderella.

 So I persevere until I get the perfect fit.

 

Prince Charming, you’re mine.

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Winston

This is my submission to the Speak Easy writing challenge #162

WINSTON

Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes. I’ve tried time and again to weed out the memory from my mind, but to no avail. It’s been twelve years since then, and every time I think about it, I go back to the summer I was sixteen and my mother was scolding me for the umpteenth time about-

 

 

“Don’t you think it’s time to throw that thing away?”

“Mom! Don’t call him a ‘thing’.” I protested indignantly. “Winston is my baby!”

“He was, when you were a baby yourself.” She countered.

“No, he still is!” I insisted.

“Stacy.” My mother sighed impatiently. “Fourteen years you’ve fed that rocking horse, petted it, talked to it, even cuddled with it, for goodness sake! Isn’t that enough?”

“Of course it’s not! Winston’s my best friend. Please let me keep him, just a few days, please?” I begged.

My mother sighed again. “Fine, just for a while.”

 I patted Winston’s head lovingly. I had had him since I was two, and he still looked brand new. His stuffed coat shone a warm brown and his glass eyes were so realistic he almost looked alive. I knew I was being childish, keeping Winston like this, but I was strangely attached to him. I wouldn’t even let Matt, my younger brother, play with him when he was a child.

 I wasn’t throwing him away.

I could have sworn I heard a snort of satisfaction, but I just laughed at my imagination and forgot about it.

 

The next Friday, I came home from school and Winston was missing.

“Mom!” I shrieked. “Mom! What have you done with Winston?”

She spoke calmly.“ Oh, I sold it off to a nice man in the next block. He’s got a little boy at home and couldn’t afford a new rocking horse, you see.” She beamed at me as if it was the best thing in the world.

“I don’t believe this!” I wailed again. She winced. “Lower your voice, Stacy! Winston is gone, and that’s final.”

I spent the next few days in a blue funk until Mr.Hanover, Winston’s new owner, came to return him. He apologized and asked for a refund- a series of accidents had occurred with his family after he brought Winston home, and he felt that poor Winston might have been unlucky for them. Well, his loss! I was just happy to have Winston back. This time I thought I saw a glint in his eyes. Yeah, right. And I’m Wonder Woman. I thought dryly.

I was shaken awake at three in the morning by a hysterical Matt. “Stace.”He sobbed. “Mom’s dead…God…she’s dead.”

The police said that she had been hacked to death with repetitive blows to her face and chest. Investigations were fruitless. The incident faded out of the news and we were left alone to move on with our lives.

 

A few months passed. I was on my bed reading about a painting by Albrecht Dürer, when my brother barged in to borrow a pen. “What did I tell you about knocking?” I grouched. Ignoring my question totally, he pointed at Winston. “You still have this worthless thing? How can you even look at it without remembering Mom?”

“What!” I exclaimed.

“Maybe that Hanover guy was right.” He went on. “Maybe this thing is unlucky.” Matt kicked Winston aggressively and stormed out.

I shook my head. Winston was a toy horse, how could he kill anyone? Except…Winston’s head was the perfect weapon to bludgeon someone…..

But I didn’t question it seriously until the mystery killer claimed both my father and my brother at one go, while I was away for a sleepover. The bloodstains on the floor showed that Matt had been dragged back and forth until he was dead. There were teeth and hoof marks on both of them. Winston had been found standing over their bodies, bathed in their blood. The police figured it was some kind of sick joke.

But I had realized the horrific truth and I knew what to do. The night I was placed under police protection, I lit a match and flung it on my childhood friend Winston. It was over now. Winston would never hurt anyone again.

 

 

I’m jolted back to the present by happy squeals. My daughter Hailey comes running in.

“Mommy, look what Daddy got me!”

I smile and let her take me to see her new gift.

My heart stops.

“Mommy, it’s a horsie!”

It’s Winston.

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Here are the rules:

  • Your post must be dated May 18, 2013, or later.
  • Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
  • Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
  • You must include the following sentence as the FIRST line in your submission: “Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.
  • You must also include a reference to the media prompt.
  • The speakeasy is for submissions written specifically for the grid. Please don’t submit an entry if you intend to showcase it to another blog link-up. Such posts are deleted without notice.
  • Please don’t post long explanations before your post. We want your writing to be the star of the show. If you need to clarify anything, feel free to do so at the end.
  • Albrecht_Dürer_Oswolt_Krel

 


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I know what you did last winter

It’s FF time again, yay! But I’m late as usual.Anyway without further ado, here’s my 12th time writing FF, a lovely weekly challenge run by our sweet hostess Rochelle 🙂

Thanks for the picture, Bjorn!

Copyright - Bjorn Brudberg

                                      Copyright – Björn Rudberg

Here are my 100 words:

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I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST WINTER

I watch the party from the shadows. Darkness is my only refuge.

Over the clink of champagne glasses, my ears catch the strumming of his guitar. There he is, my father. My brother, the perfect son, sits next to him, enjoying the festivities.

Why did you do it, Dad? Were you so ashamed of me? The tears fall fast on my scarred cheeks as I watch him  laugh.

The smell of gasoline and burning flesh are still fresh in my memory.

Last winter will repeat itself, but this time…. I’ll light the fire.

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The real Aaron

This is my submission to the Speakeasy #155 writing challenge.

THE REAL AARON

Without a word, she dropped to the ground.

“So? Did you find him?” Detective Inspector Richmond asked for the thousandth time that afternoon.

“We’ve got him surrounded on the western boundary.” Agent Sarah Madison answered. She had been scouting the forest from atop the tall oak tree for hours. Richmond had wanted to launch helicopters, but Sarah was sure she could do better, and she had.

“Good job, Sarah!”Richmond smiled as they entered  FBI headquarters. “Consider yourself promoted!”

 

Sarah smiled back. She had been working hard for seven years to move up in the ranks, and now she would, thanks to this case. The Alison Kimberly murder had sent shockwaves throughout the university she had been a student of. Alison had been popular and beautiful, president of her sorority, and girlfriend to computer and science genius Aaron Hudson. She’d had rivals, but no one who hated her enough to poison her soda with cyanide.

The case had been about to close when Sarah, still suspicious, stepped in and asked to re-investigate. “I’m giving you this case because I trust you. If this is all for nothing or you mess up, you will lose your job.” Richmond had warned her.

Months of lurking around in the university, thorough questioning and a lot of puzzling, Sarah found all evidence pointing towards Aaron, Alison’s boyfriend. Still, it had been circumstantial, and Aaron would have been safe, had he not tried to flee when the FBI knocked at his door.

 

Sarah took a deep breath. If she could crack the suspect, she would win the case and her promotion.

 “Why did you do it, Aaron?”

He smiled insolently. “We both know why, Agent, so quit wasting your time.”

“You will not speak to me like that!” Sarah snapped.

“ I’d rather not, Agent. My proposal for the coffee date still stands though.”

“Just answer the damn question!” Sarah was beginning to lose her cool now.

“Oh, feisty, aren’t you, Agent? Okay, I’ll tell you why I murdered Alison. Betrayal.” Aaron’s gaze locked with hers.  His eyes were the colour of a thunderstorm, with full lashes. Attractive eyes, almost feminine, just like the rest of him.

Sarah was startled out of her errant thoughts as Aaron continued. “I liked Alison. I really did. I had been nominated for the international computer Olympiad, to be held in Greece. Everything was fine until I found that Alison had called in a lot of favours to replace my name with hers all because she really wanted to visit Greece. She pretended that she didn’t have any idea how she, with her zero knowledge about computers, was chosen as state representative!”

“So you killed her?” Sarah exclaimed. “For such a little thing?”

“Oh it wasn’t a little thing, Agent. Betrayal kills. I think you know what I mean.” He smirked.

“What rubbish!” Sarah sputtered. “I would never kill anyone!”

“Oh but you did,” said Aaron smoothly. “Agent Bradford’s death was no accident. He took the entire credit for a case you had solved alone, and stole your promotion, so you killed him.”

“He was my fiancée!” Sarah shouted.

“You didn’t want to marry him, accepting his proposal was a mistake. You like women.”

Sarah felt defeated. “How do you know all this?”

“Intelligence, and professional hacking, Agent. The Bureau’s files should be guarded better.”

Sarah managed to say,”I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

Despite everything Aaron had said about her, Sarah slept peacefully that night.

 

She was woken up in the early morning by her phone ringing insistently.

Groggily, she answered. “Hello?”

“The suspect’s escaped.”

Six months later, Aaron Hudson had still not been found. Every database  denied the existence of any such identity.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” Detective Inspector Richmond said sadly. “You’re fired.”

Sarah trudged away to her office to clear it. She had lost her job and her reputation and all she had left was the memory of the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. She sighed and opened a drawer. Placed in it was a piece of paper. She gasped.

Agent Madison,

 If you ever stop denying the chemistry between us, I leave with you an address where you can find me. Report this to the feds and you’ll never hear from me again.

Yours from the moment I saw you,

Aaria

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718 words 🙂

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The picture prompt:

Lion

 

 

 


37 Comments

The Attic

Hello there 🙂 Goody, it’s time for Friday Fictioneers again! My 9th attempt and yay, I’m not late this time 😀

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, FF is a weekly challenge to write 100 word flash fiction based on a picture prompt chosen by Rochelle herself. Thanks Rochelle for such an interesting photo 😀

Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Here are my 101 words:

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THE ATTIC

The grill door to the attic was kept barred at all times. The attic was dreary and silent throughout the day.

At night it came alive.

Adam had always pooh-poohed the idea. Believing local rumors was ill-becoming of a psychologist.

One night he decided to investigate. The paper he published two weeks later affirmed that the haunted attic was a mere myth.

Adam sighed, looking at the dead body. His tenth patient that month. Where to store..? Ah of course, the attic. Adam was glad he had visited it, so much space- and the voices were always so helpful.

 

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23 Comments

Cursed

Hi, y’all! My 8th attempt at writing 100 word flashfiction for FF, which is hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Every week Rochelle chooses a picture prompt, on which we write approximately 100 words, give or take a few. Thanks Adam for this week’s picture 😀

AdamIckes-boardwalk

                                                   copyright – Adam Ickes

Here are my 100 words 🙂

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CURSED

The village was united before the war tore it apart.

Overnight, friends became enemies, and suspicion spread like a poisonous fog.

A bridge was built to divide the village into two. Any person who tried to cross the bridge would be executed.

Lovers Hayden and Jasmine dared to defy. One clear spring afternoon, the two lovers were burnt at the stake.

Those involved in the execution were found dead in their beds the next morning. The surviving inhabitants fled the village in terror.

 Legend has it, every leap year, the spirits of the villagers come back to replay the massacre.

 

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A Helping Hand

A HELPING HAND

Joanna sat in her study with her fifth cup of coffee for that night. Her husband Gerhard was fast asleep upstairs and so were the children. Go on, you can do it, she urged herself. She lowered her eyes to the .45 pistol on the desk. She had sneaked it away from Gerhard’s closet when he was showering earlier in the day. The pistol had a silencer in it- Gerhard always kept it in the nearest safe place- the closet- in case there was an intruder.

 

Joanna let her fingers close around the cold metal, knuckles whitening as her grip tightened. All she had to do was go up the stairs, into the bedroom and fire a single bullet. It would be so easy, killing Gerhard. Just as it should have been all along, for all these years.  Joanna had stopped eschewing the thought of murdering her husband when she realized how much she had suffered at his hands. She had left everything for him- a promising modeling career, her city, even her family. In return she had seen days and months of abuse- the beatings, the insults, the excuses she had had to give for her bruises…

 

No more, she vowed. Steeling her nerves, Joanna got up and walked quietly into the dark hallway. The sound of swishing fabric made her whip around as a blurred neon shape moved into her field of vision. Thankful of her sharp reflexes, Joanna tackled the intruder. “Don’t move, I’ve got a gun!” she warned in a harsh whisper, cursing her luck. Of all the nights, this had to happen now!

“And I’ve got a knife.” The intruder said in a trembling voice, familiar to Joanna. Her eyes better adjusted to the darkness now, recognized the person below her. “Sadie?” she cried softly. “What are you doing here?” Joanna helped her husband’s secretary up. “Don’t try to attack me again.” She told the sniffling girl, prying the knife out of her fingers.

Switching on the lights, Joanna turned back to Sadie with a raised eyebrow. “Well? Explain, or I’ll call the police.”

“No, no, please don’t do that!” Sadie burst into tears. “I…. I came to kill you.”

“In this costume?” Joanna felt a wry smile tugging at her lips. The glow-in-the-dark jumpsuit would make it difficult for anyone not to see it coming their way. “Nice camouflage.”

“What?” Sadie sniffed. “Neon is the new sexy! I ordered it online just last week. Priority shipping.”

“So why did you want to kill me, Sadie?”

The pretty girl looked bitter. “Gerhard- I mean Mr. Adler told me to.”

Joanna narrowed her eyes. “So he wants me out of the way.”

Sadie nodded. “Mr. Adler and I… we’ve been having a secret affair. He told me he loved me. He gave me this-“ She fingered the delicate silver chain she was wearing- “and promised to marry me if I killed you.” She started crying again.

Foolish little thing, thought Joanna with a mixture of amusement and contempt. She decided she had to finish Gerhard off that very night. If she missed this opportunity, she knew she might not get the courage again. Only, what was to be done with the silly creature in front of her?

“Two pairs of hands are better than one.” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

“What do you mean?” Sadie cocked her head at Joanna, looking at her with wide blue eyes.

“Well Sadie.” Joanna tried her best to sound convincing. “Gerhard doesn’t love you at all.”

“Of course he does!” Sadie bristled. “He told me so. And he got me a Porsche a few days back!”

“Darling, that’s nothing. He got me a 10 carat diamond ring from Tiffany a while ago.” Said Joanna truthfully. Gerhard had always been particular about giving expensive gifts to make up for being the world’s worst husband.

“Oh! A diamond!” Sadie sounded outraged. “He certainly never got me one…”

“See? There’s the proof.”

“How could he lead me on like this?” Sadie raged. “I want to kill him now!”

“As I said Sadie, two pairs of hands are better than one. Let’s do it together.”

“What’s in it for you?

“Despite appearances, he isn’t all that good to me either.” Joanna pulled her robe aside to reveal a yellowing bruise. “I’ll split the insurance with you, fifty-fifty.”

They shook hands.

A Bee Gee’s song played in Joanna’s mind. She smiled. No more Stayin’ Alive for Gerhard.

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This was written for speakeasy #152 at yeahwrite. The challenge was (a)to write a piece of fiction or poetry,750 words or less(mine is 750 including the title)(b)to use the sentence ,”“It would be so easy.”,anywhere in the piece and (c)to make some kind of reference to the media prompt, which this week is a video for ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees.In case,this challenge interests you or you would like to read what others have written,click on this link http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/152-open/