Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 07-09-2013
The new nurse was walking next to Dr Dzodze when he passed through a wall instead of using the open doorway; she screamed until the others came. Leili comforted her, escorting the shaking woman to the courtyard while someone made her a cup of tea. “We told you that many things are unusual here,” Leili soothed. “Dzodze is one of three doctors on staff that have continued working at the hospital after they passed. They are kind and skilled and the children love them.” “You have g-g-ghost d-d-doctors here?” the nurse sputtered. “Of course,” she replied with a smile. “Only the most compassionate come to this part of Africa and our needs are great.” The woman nodded and promised to get used to it. Leili hugged her gently, making a mental note to use the doorways like a living person for a while.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 19-06-2013
Agnes sat in a chair outside of the fitting rooms, listening to the unisex vain banter coming from the shopping carousels in front turn into the groans and sniffles of self-loathing within. She cast a subtle spell upon them as they shuffled out dejectedly, her right hand balancing gently on the wand she kept in her purse. “You look fine,” she whispered, smiling. “Have absolutely no time for that nonsense going forward.” Occasionally, Agnes would look at her own reflection – the luminous white hair, the deep laugh lines highlighting brilliant blue eyes. “Not bad for 108,” she’d say to her body approvingly. “Not bad at all.”
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 28-03-2013
Amelia would enter the facility with her doll and her bear, wandering the halls until she found someone to adopt for the day. She would play for hours beside them, talking away cheerfully (whether they could engage or not), and occasionally holding their hand. Near dinnertime, Amelia would collect her things, beam her delight at them, and kiss them on the cheek – freeing their souls from this place and sending them on to the next with a warm memory of love and belonging. The Angel of Death is an agent of compassion and a master of disguise.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 15-01-2013
When they arrived at the Grey Havens, they found the hilltops densely forested, so lush and green they were jungle-like; it was a marvel to behold. After a period of silent admiration, Gandalf softly spoke, “Fallen tree ents grow here anew; it is the right of the firsts of the earth and the true victory of compassion.” Frodo looked at him puzzled. “Love – even for the land itself – never dies, you see,” the wizard said. “It cannot be rooted out.”
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 15-09-2012
Iron Man blasted into the flames, the building beginning to collapse from back to front. The suit identified where the dog and her puppies were cowering, the mother refusing to leave them to save herself. He scooped them up and delivered them to a crying and grateful 90-year-old woman on the sidewalk outside; she gave him a $5 tip. Amused and deeply touched, he framed the money and hung it on the wall of his office at Stark Enterprises, where he often reflected upon it. Building rockets and saving the world aside, the little things really made life worthwhile.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 04-08-2012
“The spirit of compassion lives in all of us, awakened or dormant,” Tanget Rinpoche told the other monks who had gathered around him in the garden, “as does the spirit of revenge.” He gazed up at the far hill. “The first spirit can balance and guide the second. It can also repair a karmic imbalance if one exists.” Tanget’s mind drifted away to the day he’d pushed Brother Wu off of the mountain rope bridge to his death. He had never regretted it, but knew he’d have to practice compassion for the rest of his life to atone. He sighed and smiled.