Brief Stories

Stories which are not explicitly serialized, even though they may be part of series. Unless otherwise noted it’s probably safe to read them in any order—but mind the tags!

Burnt-lemon Smoke

“Hey, get ready. Fifteen seconds …”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”

“… five, four, three, two, inhale—”

The burnt-lemon smoke burns her throat as it goes down, leaves her feeling rough and raw. Spasmodic coughs shake her body.

“—there, I think you got it all. Sit down …”

Her head feels hot as her friend’s hands guide her down to the carpet’s cool embrace. It’s so soft, so yielding! The perfect place to be, the perfect place to stretch out her legs and wiggle her toes and giggle and fall over—

Read on … ( ~5 Min.)

the glass rod

Carter and Abel

⌈Cartɘr & Abɘl—ruining witchɘs’ days sincɘ 629⌋

It’s a cute sign. Done in marker on cardboard, sure, rather than paint on wood, but there’s something almost charming about that to Arlene’s weary eyes.

Pity that building it’s affixed to is such a disaster.

Once it was a handsome little store, with a wide-windowed ground floor and a little first floor perched atop it like a cat curled atop a stove; once ivy climbed its facade and flowers blossomed in pots beneath its windows. It must have been adorable!

Read on … ( ~6 Min.)

driftwood

Necessary Repairs

“Hey babe”, said the witch, “mind helping me with this? I think I cracked a bone the other day.”

The doll looked up from her book. “Sure, but isn’t that the third this month?”

“… yeah.”

“Shouldn’t you have someone look at your spells? Wood should last longer, even without plasticizing it.”

“No, I’m fine. I just … look, give me a hand? It’s one of the supports in my chest, I’ve already got the replacement out.”

Read on … ( ~3 Min.)

A Flower in the Silence

Someone has left a flower in the silence between moments, that secret place where you long ago learned to go to hide from the world. A place which you had always thought only you could access.

Because, well. It’s inside your mind. Right?

The flower is pale, almost immaterial. It looks like a pencil sketch.

You gingerly pick it up and sniff.

It doesn’t smell like anything. Which does make sense—smells have always been the hardest things to imagine with any sort of accuracy—but it’s still a bit disappointing.

Read on … ( ~6 Min.)