Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 24-10-2014
“Mrs Deebles wants her bed turned down for an afternoon nap,” Helen said out loud at the aides’ station. “I’ll just return these trays and then I’ll do it.” “No need, dear,” Wanda replied. “Why don’t you check in on Mr Peabody and then we can do snack rounds.” “Oh, I don’t mind; it’ll take five seconds,” Helen replied. “She’s not really there, Helen. Mrs Deebles died two months ago,” Wanda said softly. Helen froze. “It happens; this is a great place to be, so … some linger a bit,” Wanda comforted her friend. “The sun is starting to shine in on this side; she’ll disappear in the beams sure enough. That’s how you know.” “Oh my God,” Helen whispered, trying to take it all in, suddenly afraid of how much the light could reveal.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 23-10-2014
They talked for hours in the back room of Lobo Rito, eating enchiladas and working through whether or not it would be a good idea to introduce Dwayne to Denise. “On the one hand, we’d save untold others from heartbreak and distress,” George said, imagining what it would be like to go a whole week without a 2am tearful drunk dial. “On the other, we don’t know if: a) they’ll even like each other (being so much the same), or b) their ultimate success as a couple would bring about the end times,” Margaret added, only half joking about “b”. By the time the fried ice creams arrived, all were in agreement that the incubus and the succubus should meet, caution consciously tossed to the wind, and Fate be damned.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 22-10-2014
“Terhooligan was a masterpiece,” Becky began slowly. “An impeccably dressed gentleman with the most amazing eyes – black, with a red and gray highlight. A beautiful Muppet, really; everyone wanted to be his operator.” “But?” Mark asked, intrigued. “But … well … Jim said that creating the Muppet was an invite for the greater work of being that piece and Terhooligan … it seemed to draw out really cold and calculating stuff – scary stuff. Over a surprisingly short time, the operator would start to shift and change themselves, getting distant at first and darker as time went on.” “So Henson retired it? The evil Muppet?” Mark probed. “Buried it and never told anybody where,” Becky replied with a sigh. “That seems a little extreme,” Mark laughed. “It’s not,” Becky said, turning to him with a distressed look. “Because we want to find Terhooligan; it’s almost like we need to, like he’s calling to us.” A chill moved down Mark’s spine raising the hair on both of his arms.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 21-10-2014
“Ayuh,” Phil began slowly, pointing to the stain on the concrete, “this here’s where it happened.” Zac whistled. “Push that manhole cover up and come outta there like a shot, dragging down some yuppie talkin’ on his cell,” Phil continued. Zac knelt to examine the cover carefully. “Thing apparently spit out the skin farther up, on 17th; current thinkin’ is that it don’t like a lot of hair follicles,” he concluded, eyes searching the face of the other man carefully for a reaction. “Jeeeeeeesus,” Zac said, standing up and shuddering. “Don’t know what the thing is,” Phil added with a wry grin, “but I’m pretty sure it ain’t Jesus.”
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 20-10-2014
Management was irritated at first and then concerned; it wasn’t like Mona to not show up at work. Later, the company supported the volunteer search with a food truck and the community quest for dirt with several interviews. Through it all, the Inside Sales department silently dealt with the gap in their team, finding a replacement and moving on respectfully. Chris and Tracey allowed themselves eye contact only once, passing each other in the elevator with an almost imperceptible nod. Her closest teammates, they knew in their hearts that Mona would never be found; they had staked the miserable energy vampire themselves and left her in the sun where she belonged.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 18-10-2014
Eddie felt bad that Casper didn’t have real feet anymore; in a rare moment of feeling sorry for himself, the friendly ghost had shared that this was the #1 thing he missed about being alive. That’s how the running began, with Eddie moving through the world at top flight speed wearing a haunted backpack, Casper in tow. As the track-and-field years turned into the marathon years, Casper continued to motivate and inspire Eddie to push farther (better than any music mix or coach had ever done); and they were together at the Olympics, Casper crying softly in his parallel dimension attached to the running bib as they stood on the platform and listened to the national anthem. “You and me forever, buddy,” Eddie said quietly to his friend.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 17-10-2014
She cried and left him then, because he’d taken her for granted and fallen greatly short of her expectations. And, although he cried readily himself, a part of him was instantly relieved, because she was addicted to anger and disappointment and hard to love. An angel and a demon watched the scene from their table at the coffee shop across the street (each intrigued for their own reasons and each happy to not be human). “Monkeys,” one whispered, taking a sip.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 16-10-2014
The aunts peered out at their guests through the tea house curtain. The place was packed and the customers were taking in the quaint and charming decor. They were also smelling all of the pastries suspiciously and daring each other to be the first to drink. “What are they doing?” asked one of the aunts. “Why is everyone ordering elderberry wine?” asked the other. “They’re overly anxious to pick up on the scent of almonds,” said the first again. “And what’s the problem with old lace?” said the second, seriously wondering if they should have opened a corner drugstore instead.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 15-10-2014
While handing Falsifer a succulent bit of imp toenail brownie, Clutchclaw chided himself silently for sharing. The other demons had no problem hoarding their treasures, gloating from atop piles of bones and trinkets from the living. While part of him wanted to collect, jealously guard, and fight nonstop like the others, Clutchclaw consistently chose to loan his things out or, better and more dangerous still, invite others to sit with him and enjoy whatever it was that he had (telling stories and playing games). “Oh! I must remember to get Spitefork that salve I found for the burns on his tail stump,” Clutchclaw said, distracted from brooding by another urge to be pathetically kind.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 14-10-2014
Wiley was losing patience; the boys were squirrelly and he had a ton of homework to do. “Okay, so what is it going to take for you guys to get to bed?” he asked his charges with a smile. “We need at least 3 books!” said one. “And a little TV!” said the other. “All right,” Wiley agreed. “Settle in.” Both boys leapt into their beds, squealing with glee, eyeing their babysitter with triumph. “The Velveteen Rabbit had a terrific life in the forest until he was eaten by a bear; Paddington Bear had contracted rabies on his many travels and had shed his yellow raincoat and Wellies to wander the countryside; he wandered too close to the laboratory where Curious George was being held and the monkey crushed him with its super strength hugs; Babar the elephant squished the monkey and went on a trample rampage … until the circle of life brought him into contact with Barney the dinosaur, who had snapped from SO many kids not going to bed on time.” Wiley paused. “How we doin’, guys?” he asked. “We’re super tired,” came a whispered reply.