Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy

Counter

December 2nd 2017 in Microfiction

The Devil spoke to her in the high desert, under a sky that threatened rain but never delivered (black clouds pitched angrily against the uncaring flats and hollows). The Reverend Jane had ridden out beyond the painted ridge to look for a soul reported missing. She’d found his body in an ancient creek bed turned to scrub and stone, the cheeks already sunken and the eyes gone. “The desert wastes no time collecting water,” she whispered, alert within the grisly yet peaceful scene. It was then that the Devil used the boy’s cracked and blackened lips to call her name, moving a bit of sand and air through the throat and over the swollen tongue to make promises It would never keep and threats that It surely would. “Enough,” the Reverend spat, reaching out her hand to bless a rock in the name of the Almighty and placing it on the corpse’s forehead (where it sunk into the taut flesh and smoked). “Silence, Father of Lies,” she commanded. “I listen not.” She collected the boy’s gun, satchel, and hat for the family and bent down quickly to pull one of his teeth for her counter pouch before leaving the rest. “Eight teeth,” the Reverend Jane whispered, turning her horse and heading back. “Two more and It will appear to fight in its true form.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, drawing another with which she started to sing her favorite hymn.




required



required - won't be displayed


Your Comment:

Cranston sighed heavily. “I thought you’d never arrive,” he said. Westrup smiled, looking over at the mess in the hallway. “Cleaning to pass the time?” “The bloody mirrors,” Cranston responded. “The more I clean them, the cloudier they get. The maid sees faces in them; won’t go near them. Ruddy nuisance … and I’m continually […]

Previous Entry

Dear Ethan,
I was deeply touched by your letter.
It’s been a long time since I’ve received a rant of defiance – something that condemns the whole being-good-for-fabulous-cash-and-prizes system. The blurry black and white picture of your butt from the library photocopier … well, I got choked up. You’ve got style, kid, and you’re going places; […]

Next Entry