Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


August 11th 2017 in Microfiction

He stared at the new recruits, his eyes blazing; they shuddered involuntarily, refused to meet his gaze. He ranted for several moments in long dead languages, then turned into a horrible creature with expansive leathery wings and flung himself mercilessly against the stone walls of the great hall. They gasped and clung to each other, trying not to look directly at his face. Setting one wing on fire in the hearth, he changed into an enormous wolf … who then marked his favorite chair and flung himself out of the window into the river several stories below the castle. They cried out. “He’s fine. Immortal. So, to recap,” Ilya began (as if nothing had happened), “Dracula is the first of our kind. Dracula is our sire – our lord and master. Dracula is also,” Ilya paused, hearing something far below (a splashing and a whimper accompanied by some swearing in Old Slavic), “the origin of the term “bat shit crazy”.” He turned and, with a wide gesture of his arm, herded them on to the rest of the tour.

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“Some write from the richness of their lives; I write from lack.” Stoddard held the page close to his readers, balanced carefully in his gloved hands. “I write of things I do not know now and fear I will never know: wealth, security, and robust physical health.” “Wow,” Stoddard said, not looking up. “Just wait,” […]

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“It’s just … really hard to fit in,” he said, looking down at his lap. “Sometimes, being an outsider gives you a broader perspective on the world,” the guidance counselor said gently. “It’s not a bad thing.” “But I don’t … have any friends,” he said, pained. “You have yourself, and coming to terms with […]

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