Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


October 13th 2017 in Microfiction

She came down the stairs in her high-necked swimming dress, a lawn chair tucked awkwardly under one arm, a black towel and a book of spells clutched in the other. “I’m gloombathing,” she announced to her parents, who watched her descend with interest. “I’ll be out on top of the family crypt, soaking up the luck people have abandoned,” she reported flatly, moving out through the side door. “Capital idea!” her father said, grinning from ear to ear. “One man’s Friday the 13th superstition is another man’s bounty!” They watched her go, linking arms. “She’s clever,” her father cooed proudly. “And so stylish,” Morticia added, noting the bows on her black knee socks.

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