Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 30-04-2012
It was Rona’s idea to go into assisted living; she knew it was getting worse. On their last night together in the house, she came to Mike in a pale pink nightgown, looking like a girl instead of a 67-year-old woman losing her battle against Alzheimer’s. She revealed a tattoo she’d gotten across her chest above her heart; the words “Don’t cry; I will always remember your name here.” So that is where he kissed her first – in that sacred place where memory truly lives.
Filed Under (Art) by Tansy on 29-04-2012
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with your Dracula poster or the Halloween decorations that never come down. I’m saying that, when you’re ready for a stainless steel coffin flask, absinthe soap, a preserved rhino beetle, or a human vertebrae, NECROMANCE will be there for you. Have cash, get scary.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 28-04-2012
Rosie reprogrammed all of the household appliances to self-destruct upon use; by the time the Jetsons were missed, it was too late. The maid was apprehended in the company of the dog, Astro, whom she’d taken on a vacation to Dog Star Canine Wonderworld. She had spared him because of his intelligence and lively conversation.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 27-04-2012
When someone asked how they kept the passion fresh in their relationship, the standard answer of “formaldehyde and French” always sufficed. Gomez and Morticia preferred not to reveal their decadent games of dress-up; he, in his Italian soccer jersey and matching Speedo; she, in her ruffled pink bikini, blond wig, and platform espadrilles. They even sat by a pool once. ‘Shameless!’ they’d sigh at each other.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 26-04-2012
She walked slowly by them in her coronation robes, the triple crown high upon her brow. “And thus,” whispered the Lord Chamberlain to the High Chancellor, “does a red queen again take the throne; there will be blood.” Triva turned her head to cast a glance at him – the scarlet eyes a hallmark of her lineage, the smile unexpected and unsettling. “You and your family must go into hiding at once, old friend,” the Chancellor said softly as he moved away.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 25-04-2012
Oakwell put his hands up against the rifle aimed at his chest. “Now, Tate, don’t you go doin’ nuthin’ foolish. You ain’t a killer. Heck, neither is that gun!” He laughed nervously. “First part’s true; as a rule, I turn the other cheek to wrongs perpetrated against me,” the man replied steadily. “Ill deeds like the one you were caught doin’ to that child, however ….” His eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s a whole ‘nother thing.” Tate fired the first shot for recompense and the second for insulting his Winchester.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 24-04-2012
They wheeled Ottoline out onto the front lawn like she’d asked, laughing as they watched her drawing symbols in the air from the windows. “You show some respect!” Merle hissed them to silence. “She’s giving her dreams away. Her people believe that you can release the dreams you never followed in this life to spare yourself regret and inspire others.” Irene, at reception, felt a little chill move through her and prayed: ‘Please … just … help me do … I don’t know … anything.”
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 23-04-2012
He was warmly welcomed at the gates and taken on a brief tour before they stopped at the sound stage. “Let’s see … what do we have to work with here,” he said happily, mischievously peeking through the curtain. Bach and Buddy Holly, Elvis and Ella Fitzgerald, Mozart and Amy Winehouse, several choirs of what he assumed to be angels. America’s Oldest Teenager straightened his tie, gave a thumbs up to the box seat, and walked out on the heavenly bandstand to thunderous applause.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 21-04-2012
The other dogs ran up the hill from the rear path, barking that they were on their way and could hear Timmy yelling from down in the well. They found Lassie lying in the daffodils and feared he was dead, but he was just napping. He told them to chillax and leave the boy where he was for a while. “It’ll be good for him … and I’m sick to death of this crap, dudes.”
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 20-04-2012
“And I have to find a grave or crypt before sunrise or I turn to dust?” Teddy asked the group. They howled with laughter. “All of that crap is just marketing,” Bellamy said. “We actually live in treehouses. If you’re just passing through, the dense weep of a willow or some Spanish moss will do. We figured out a long time ago that no one ever looks up.”