Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


December 29th 2012 in Microfiction

They found the ancient bottle embedded in ice almost 180 feet down in the Hirsch-Arwa Trench; rum, probably, from the handblown shape. Fortiss did everything he could to keep the bottle intact, but it cracked and then shattered during defrosting. The note inside, however, remained almost new – as if it had just been written. “Make haste to leave this place,” it cautioned, “for tentacled horrors wait in the frozen black deep, awakened by the slightest foreign sound. Avoid the Poles; the ice hides only madness and death. Here be monsters.” Fortiss shuddered, suddenly afraid. They had just installed a pump attached to the main generator for water recycling at the outpost; it was thumping day and night against the glacier like a drum.

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She brought her walker up flush with the sink and rested her forehead against the mirror. It began, “Even near death, you remain the fairest …”. “Hush now, old friend,” Eva interrupted, patting the glass gently. “I’m going soon; I can feel it. I’d like to do something for you before that happens. I’m wondering: […]

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The Merrimather-Waitings and the Clocksmith-Caruthers attended the fete, drawn by its [BLANK] and obvious [BLANK]. Secretly, both parties were delighted to [BLANK].

(Illustration by Edward Gorey)

Tansy’s answer:  free food, new year timeliness, wear clothing as garish as the wallpaper out in public. (Post your own answers and read the genius of others on the Tansy Undercrypt […]

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