“You are condemned!” The witch’s voice boomed with finality.
The witch waved her wand through the air in an infinity symbol, on the third wave, a nebulous chain appeared. As she placed it around Bartlby’s shoulders, words appeared in each link of the chain. Every beating and insult, etched into the links.
“This chain is made up of the pain and indignities you inflicted on her. You will carry it for eternity.”
“NO!” Bartleby gasped as the links hardened into steel and the weight of it forced him to his knees before it bore him screaming through Hell’s dark gate.
For the Masters of Writing Fiction Challenge Weight
So what kind of fairy tale would involve a tower, a tidal wave, and a shark? Pull up a monitor and let me take you on a journey through the dark and twisted recesses of my imagination. Continue reading “The Princess and the Shark”→
It all started on a sweltering July afternoon. Pop and I were enjoying a coolish breeze on the patio. He had gone back into the house for drinks, asking what I wanted. I replied to his back as he entered the door to the kitchen “I’ll have an ice water, thanks.”
Next thing I know, out comes my 80-something Pop with a fly swatter. I looked at him kind of funny and he pipes up.
“Here’s the fly swatter you asked for.”
“I said ‘Ice Water’ you silly git. I laughed, he laughed, we laughed and laughed.
That Christmas, with the family gathered around, I was handed a package, carefully wrapped with a little tag that read “to Pumpkin from Pop.” Well, you guessed it, in the package was an elaborately decorated fly swatter. That started a tradition and pretty soon, every holiday, every event, brought a new fly swatter. I have fly swatters shaped like the Statue of Liberty, shaped like Texas, one shaped like a palm tree, one that lights up like a Christmas tree, one that says “DIE FLY” on it.
Pop was my grandpa and even after he passed on, my parents kept the tradition going for many more years. After they passed, I’d still buy myself a new fly swatter from everywhere I traveled. I have one from a trip to Acapulco shaped like a sombrero. I’m an old woman now, making out my will and trying to decide who to leave my prized possessions to. The house, and car and jewelry, those were easy. Family heirloom china, yep that was a given. But really, what do I do with 784 fly swatters?
Solanj absently unwound the strings of her bracelet as she came behind her mark. She wrapped her hands around his chest in a sensuous embrace, pressing her breasts against him as he moaned. Perfect. She looped the strings around his neck and brought her knee up to the small of his back, leaning backward as she pulled the loop tighter. He struggled for a moment before she choked the life out of him. The police had questioned her briefly and, finding no weapon, released her. She walked away, caressing her bracelet; after all, no one questions a lady’s jewelry.
For the Masters of Writing Fiction 100 word story challenge: Strings