Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


December 28th 2013 in Microfiction

“As we regress you, I’ll take notes about your various lives and we’ll discuss anything that isn’t clear when you awake,” the therapist had said. When Carolyn awoke, however, there was no one in the office; in fact, it looked like the doctor and all of his staff had fled. Confused and frightened, she went back to her chair and looked over the paper someone had put on the desk in front of it. “NOT … HUMAN,” it read in rustic, pencil-scratched capitals. Strangely, Carolyn felt a little better; it was something anyway – another clue as to why she was so angry – so vengeful – all of the time. Passing the hallway mirror on her way out, she failed to notice her glowing red eyes.

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Burgess put the papers carefully upon the desk. “This is impossible. Sorcerers? Druids? Magic and madness in World War II?” “I know it seems far-fetched,” Thrombold answered, “but Churchill’s private papers cover only what lengths the Allies went to.” “You’re having me on,” Burgess grinned tightly until two other folios were placed in front of […]

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What is the caption for this photograph?

Tansy’s answer:  The house weathered but never fell, so they left it alone. It was always the Dust Bowl inside: dry air rushing across plain, worn surfaces, open but uninhabited. Surely, it was some kind of warning.

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