#flashficwed

[thebuttermouse]

Chocolate Buttons

It was a specific type of buttons that Kevin liked. Annie searched through all the different types of sweets, for that elusive purple bag, with the little pig with chocolate for eyes. They were bigger than normal ones, and Kevin insisted they were crunchier, and more creamy than the other brands. The same girl always worked behind the counter, wearing a purple t shirt, and a little silver crucifix on a chain. Annie was the only customer in the shop, and she sat with her elbows on the counter, looking off into space. She always has too much make up on, the kind where you can see the line of powder stop near the ear. The rain smashed down on the pavement outside lacing the glass with rivulets of water. Annie looked through the packets, past the strawberry laces, near the bigger bags of humbugs and mint imperials. But her prize was nowhere to be seen. That usual tightness spread across her chest, that stress when unknown factors destroy a plan. Kevin will be so disappointed. She remembered Kevin on the first day of military service, and how smart he looked in his uniform. She thought back to the last time they spoke. The signal was appalling across thirty four million miles, and static flickered across the screen. He had been shouting, pointing at something in the sky. This made her think of flashing lights, and so many skeletons. But that cannot be right. He needed his chocolate buttons. She looked over to the shop lady, if only to make a connection with another human being, but through she was still on her elbows, Annie was sure that her head was slumped on the side of the counter, eyes glassy like a goldfish floating at the top of a bo- But none of this was helping. It was a specific type of buttons that Kevin liked. Annie searched through all the different types of sweets, for that elusive purple bag, with the little pig with chocolate for eyes. They were bigger than normal ones, and Kevin insisted they were crunchier, and more creamy than the other brands. The same girl always worked behind the counter, wearing a purple t shirt, and a little silver crucifix on a chain. Annie was the only customer in the shop, and she sat with her elbows on the counter, looking off into space. She always has too much make up on, the kind where you can see the line of powder stop near the ear. The rain smashed down on the pavement outside lacing the glass with rivulets of water. Annie looked through the packets, past the strawberry laces, near the bigger bags of humbugs and mint imperials. But her prize was nowhere to be seen. That usual tightness spread across her chest, that stress when unknown factors destroy a plan. Kevin will be so disappointed. She remembered Kevin with the other soldiers, marching into those big, egg shaped ships before they shot away from the earth. She thought back to the footage they sent back sometimes. Not the propaganda reels, but the grainy contraband of thrashing military men, locked in twitching, repeating spasms. But that cannot be right. He needed his chocolate buttons. She looked over to the shop lady, if only to make a connection with another human being, but through she was still on her elbows, Annie was sure that her head was slumped on the side of the counter, eyes glassy like a goldfish floating at the top of a bo- But none of this was helping. It was a specific type of buttons that Kevin liked. Annie searched through all the different types of sweets, for that elusive purple bag, with the little pig with chocolate for eyes. They were bigger than normal ones, and Kevin insisted they were crunchier, and more creamy than they other brands. The same girl always worked behind the counter, wearing a purple t shirt, and a little silver crucifix on a chain. Annie was the only customer in the shop, and she sat with her elbows on the counter, looking off into space. She always has too much make up on, the kind where you can see the line of powder stop near the ear. The rain smashed down on the pavement outside lacing the glass with rivulets of water. Annie looked through the packets, past the strawberry laces, near the bigger bags of humbugs and mint imperials. But her prize was nowhere to be seen. That usual tightness spread across her chest, that stress when unknown factors destroy a plan. Kevin will be so disappointed. She remembered Kevin first phone call home, and the way she he was hiding something, although he insisted everything was OK, and they would all be home soon. She thought back to the leaked photographs that plastered the papers before being declared a hoax. Things like spiders but with human hands, locking into a ball made of hundreds jerking bodies, a structure bigger than the tallest buildings of their home town. But that cannot be right. He needed his chocolate buttons. She looked over to the shop lady, if only to make a connection with another human being, but through she was still on her elbows, Annie was sure that her head was slumped on the side of the counter, eyes glassy like a goldfish floating at the top of a bo- But none of this was helping. It was a specific

[muggingthemuse]

Ghost Train

“Whoa, slow down, Tyler!” Ana grabbed for the handle above the window to brace herself so that she wasn't thrown around the cab of Tyler's truck as he aggressively went around a car that was merely going the speed limit.

“What, are you scared?” He sneered at her. “Can't handle a real man driving?”

Ana bit back the curses and insults that boiled up in her mind. She needed Tyler, at least until their group project for school was finished. Tyler was an asshole, but he was a smart asshole. She was regretting her request for a lift home, though.

“Look, I know you're not from around here, so you don't know,” she said instead. “You keep driving like this and you're going to meet the Ghost Train.”

“The what?”

“I'm sure you've noticed that everyone around here drives responsibly. Carefully.”

“Like scared old women, you mean.” Tyler scoffed. “Yeah, I'd noticed.”

“It's not because we're all such responsible citizens, it's because of the Ghost Train.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I'm serious. Lots of people have seen it. Everyone around here knows the stories of people who have been killed by it.”

“Oh, a murderous Ghost Train. Right”

“Oh, yes. We all know the story. A local guy, a farm boy, went to work for the rail line, became and engineer, drove trains for forty years. After killing a guy who tried to get across the tracks ahead of his train, he spent most of his free time talking to people about driving safely. Not putting other people at risk because of impatience.”

“Sounds like an upstanding sort of guy.” Tyler's voice was still sarcastic and contemptuous, but Ana thought she heard just a faint note of worry.

“He was. Until someone didn't listen, drove across the tracks trying to beat the train, and the collision killed the driver, derailed the train, and killed the engineer and a schoolbus of kids that was stopped there.”

Ana paused to look at Tyler. He didn't say anything. He was also driving just a little slower.

“Now the Engineer and his Ghost Train shows up around here when you're in too much of a hurry, driving like a dick and putting other people in danger. At best, it delays you, makes you wait for awhile. But sometimes it kills you.”

Tyler snorted and shook his head. “And you actually believe that crap? This whole place is stupider than I thought it was.”

Ana shrugged and didn't say anything more until Tyler dropped her off at home.

As Tyler pulled away from Ana's driveway he laughed to himself. He was surrounded by ignorant, superstitious hicks, obviously. He leaned on his gas petal and smiled at the roar of his pickup's powerful engine. The speedometer needle crept upwards.

He crested a hill to see a farmer on a tractor, going not much more than walking speed ahead of him. Very close ahead of him. Tyler cursed and spun the wheel, fishtailing around the tractor, spraying gravel from the barely-existent shoulder, missing the ditch by inches.

He pulled the truck back into the proper lane and leaned even harder on the gas. How dare that guy get in the way of people who actually need to get somewhere?

A train horn sounded, long and deep, loud enough to rattle the windows. Tyler looked around. He wasn't anywhere near any train tracks, he was sure of that! A light filled his side window, and a moment later, the sound of the horn was replaced by that of crunching metal and shattering glass.

You can find more of my fiction - for Free! - here and here

[muggingthemuse]

Last Message

My dear Wyld, I don't know if you're going to get this. I'm going to send it off with my logs before the interference is too high to have any hope of getting through.

I wish we had more time together – those damn Anari, the greedy fucking bastards. But I'm not going to repeat what's in my logs, though I suppose they won't let you see those. I also don't know what they're going to tell you about what happened to me. I'm not going to say much specific here, in case they decide I've said too much and they censor this whole letter. I know you won't know if they never tell you about this letter's existence, but I can't go without saying good-bye and offering some explanations, however feeble and removed instead of said to you personally like they should have been.

I love you.

There, I've said it. It's too late and I'm too far away and never coming home again, but at least I've said it, even if I'm the only one who knows that I have. Me, and of course the government censor who reads this. Hi there, government censor; I hope my ripped-open soul is providing you some entertainment in your day of meaningless drudgery.

Wyld, I need you to know that I didn't leave because of a lack of love for you; the decision to stay with you or join this expedition tore my heart in two. But what it came down to in the end was that the expedition needed me and you didn't. Though you hadn't said as much, I know you love me. Or you did, then. You also valued me. I could see your eyes light up when we talked, when I argued with you, when I challenged you to think harder and deeper. But you didn't need me.

I'm not saying this to accuse you or to hurt you or even to justify the fact that I left, I just want to explain why I did. It's as cold comfort for me as for you, because without me the expedition would undoubtedly have given up and returned home safely and not ended up in this situation that will end with all of us dead.

The little bit of comfort that exists, is that our deaths aren't entirely meaningless if this message gets through. You need to -ow th- … -ith … -el being - … -old. It will - ...tionize - … <static>

Find more of my fiction here and here

[muggingthemuse]

What the Shadows Do

“Pardon me.” Leo gave the woman he was edging past a tight little smile that didn't reach his eyes.

She looked up from where she had knelt to wipe a toddler's face to see that her bags were in his way. With a thought, she made them float higher, clearing the path for Leo to get through. He felt, more than saw, the woman take in the bag hanging from his shoulder and the other in his hand, and give him a look of pity.

So Leo moved on briskly before she could say anything to which he would have to respond.

It had been a long day. His boss had set him to calling delinquent clients again, implying that he wasn't useful for anything other than cleaning up messes, and that he should do that and free up others for real work. The shadows had whispered to Leo, telling him how easy it would be to wrap his boss up tightly with their arms, slither down his throat and suffocate him slowly.

But Leo had just smiled and accepted the task without giving any indication of what he was thinking, what he was very tempted to do. He was good at doing that, he had lots of practice.

Leo rounded the corner and headed across the plaza, head down, seemingly lost in thought. The voices of the shadows were growing stronger as twilight fell, filling his mind with whispers that made it hard to pay attention to mere humans.

The bolt of electricity that burst in front of him got his attention, though. And it was followed by loud, maniacal laughing which definitely came from outside his head. Another burst, and people fled the plaza as fast as they could.

That's when Leo got a good look at the source of the laughter. It was a boy in his late teens, shooting the bolts of electricity from his fingertips in an orgy of random destruction.

An Electrical Mage. They were rare. Very rare, especially because they were even more rarely mentally stable. This boy must have been protected carefully, his parents hoping that he would be the exception. But he obviously wasn't.

Leo looked around. There was only the low, orange rays of the setting sun, which meant that the large numbers of Light Mages around would be useless. Air Mages, the next most common, would be likewise helpless against an Electrical Mage.

Which left him.

He reached out to the shadows.

“Leoskodevrikchobel!” They joyfully greeted him with the full name they had given him. At his wordless urging, the shadows surged up and around the Electrical Mage, binding his hands, stopping his mouth. The bolts of electricity stopped as the boy struggled, helpless.

“Shadow Mage!” The whisper came from a human throat, and held a piercing note of fear.

“Shadow Mage!” Louder, and sounding even more afraid.

Leo kept silent, even though he wanted to shout at them that they were being stupid. He was saving them from a rogue Electrical Mage, they should be grateful, not cowering like he was more dangerous than the electrical bolts the boy had been throwing around a minute before.

A middle-aged couple raced into the plaza, immediately noticeable, going against the flow of all the people leaving. They would be the boy's keepers, Leo realized. The ones who would ultimately pay for misplacing their charge.

Good. Leo unwrapped the shadows from the boy, and he fell limply to the paving stones. As the couple ran to their charge, Leo wrapped the shadows around himself where no one could see him, or see him leave. He should have known better than to get involved.

Want to read more of my fiction? You can find it here and here.

[muggingthemuse]

A Remarkable Coincidence

Alex sighed and rubbed her face, especially her eyes which were bleary from hours of staring at her computer. It wouldn't be so bad if she actually had something to show for those hours, but what she needed remained stubbornly elusive.

She got up and stretched. Being a private investigator was a hard gig for anyone; being a private investigator who specialized in finding lost and missing people, well, that's what kept her in her office for impossibly long hours. The thing she most hated to do was tell desperate parents that there was no sign of their son or daughter, that she hadn't found any clues as to their whereabouts.

And that was what it increasingly looked like she would have to do this time. She was looking for a fourteen-year old girl named Sarah, one of those cases in which it wasn't clear whether she ran away or if something more sinister had happened. The police had run down and exhausted all the more obvious lines of investigation, and come up with nothing.

That's why Sarah's parents had hired Alex.

But after a few days of pursuing possibilities that the cops had deemed too slim to be worth investigating, Alex was beginning to wonder if Sarah's parents might end up with no money and no daughter, in their desperation.

Her conscience pulled at her, insisting that she should get back to work, as her imagination supplied gruesome images of what might be happening, even now, to Sarah, as she spun her wheels in futility.

But she also knew from hard experience that she needed to get out of the office, to try and break out of the running cycle of her own thoughts. Coffee was in order. Somewhere else.

The chill breeze hit her as she stepped outside, and seemed to blow away some of the cobwebs in her brain. She started walking, to see what that might shake loose in her head.

She had been walking for some time when a door opened in front of her, and the smell of coffee hit her, an invitation she couldn't refuse. A look at the window told her that this was The Coincidence Cafe. Interesting; she had never been here before, she must have walked farther than she realized.

She entered the cafe and ordered a coffee, seating herself in an armchair by the front window, to watch the people going by on the street, a hobby of hers since she was young. The coffee was rich and nutty, with just a hint of bitterness; probably the best coffee she had had in years. As she drank, she could feel the tension release in her neck and shoulders, the tension that was making knots in her back and and ache behind her eyebrows.

It took her a few seconds to realize what she was seeing out the window. It was Sarah's face, in the back seat of a car going by. It was definitely Sarah – Alex had looked at her picture so often over the last week, there was no mistaking. And she looked terrified.

Alex jumped up and rushed out of the cafe in time to read the license plate of the car before it disappeared around the corner. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone to call the federal agent in charge of Sarah's case. Her eye fell on the name of the cafe, painted on the window in gold letters.

Huh. A remarkable coincidence, indeed.

I wrote a book! It’s a modern fantasy novella, with a lover that need saving, portals to Faerie, and carnivorous trees. You can find it here.

You can find more of my stories here.

[muggingthemuse]

The Coincidence Cafe

“...we only talked for a minute or so, then more people got on the bus and he had to shift towards the back. He must have gotten off before my stop because I didn't see him again.”

“You didn't get his name?” Naomi sounded a little too amused about this, Lena thought.

“No, I didn't get the chance. But he was so nice, and funny. And he recognized the TARDIS model hanging off my bag!”

“He sounds like the perfect man for you.” Naomi couldn't see Lena's scowl at that remark through the phone, but Lena scowled anyway. “Get yourself together, I'm going to pick you up and take you for coffee. There's somewhere you need to go.”

Naomi wouldn't say anything more than that, but cut off Lena's pestering by telling her again to get ready and hanging up on her. Knowing that her friend would come and drag her out of her house in whatever she was wearing – even if that was still pyjamas – Lena got changed into some nice clothes.

The place that Naomi took her to was a cute little cafe, tucked between a major grocery store and a tanning salon, a plain, unassuming storefront, with “The Coincidence Cafe” painted neatly in gold letters on one of the front windows.

Inside, the air was filled with rich, nutty coffee smell, along with spicy tea and the yeasty scent of toasted sandwiches. Naomi and Lena ordered coffees and sat at one of the dark wooden tables lined up against a padded bench that ran the length of the wall.

For some reason, Naomi made sure to sit with her back to the door, and Lena naturally sat opposite her. The coffee tasted as good as the rich aroma in the shop, so Lena was quite happy to sit and talk about little things, enjoying the complex flavors of the drink.

Finally, her coffee gone, she sighed and looked at her friend with raised brows. “This was a lovely coffee, but it sounded like you intended more than just a nice drink. What was this about?”

“Has anyone come in that you recognized?” Naomi asked hopefully.

Lena frowned and took another look around. “No. Were you expecting someone?”

She sighed. “No, just hoping. Maybe it wasn't right for one of you. Or something.”

Lena frowned more in confusion. “What do you -” She cut herself off when the door to the cafe opened and the man from the bus stepped in, looking around like he couldn't quite figure out why he was here.

His eyes met Lena's and widened in surprise. A smile spread across his face, making his eyes dance, and Lena was sure he was the handsomest man ever.

“Ah.” Naomi said in satisfaction, her gaze going back and forth between Lena and the man standing just inside the door. “That's the coincidence I was hoping for.”

Want to read a fantasy story with fairies, carnivorous trees and hungry griffins? You can download it for free here

You can also find other stories here

[muggingthemuse]

A Dogged Response

“Elias.” It was Lia at my door, her lips tight and her face strained, not her usual happy, relaxed self. “There's someone at the front desk asking for you.”

This didn't bode well, that our unexpected visitor disturbed Lia that much. I nodded and rose from my desk to follow her back out front.

The bad feeling proved justified. Waiting for me was an older man in an old-fashioned suit and a stiff awareness of his own dignity.

“Mr. Pennebaker” He said, without waiting for me to introduce myself. “We have become aware that you have a copy of Blackman's 'History of Magical Forces' in your Library.”

“That may be true.” I allowed. “I would have to check our catalogue.”

“Oh, it is true.” He said, with an odd combination of severity and smugness. “I have it from a reliable source that it is in your Arcane History Reading Room.”

“Ah. And what is your interest in that book?”

He drew himself up even more stiffly, though I was quite sure that wasn't possible. “I am a representative of the Council of Magical Practitioners, and last month the Council decreed the book to be banned. Thus all extant copies must go to the Council to be destroyed. I am here to collect your copy for that purpose.”

“Then you may leave, sir.” I said. “The Library does not acknowledge any demands for the banning or destruction of our books. By anyone.”

“I must insist, Mr. Pennebaker. On pain of retaliation by the Council, which has many resources at its disposal.”

I looked at the officious little man in front of me. I had met his type before; rigid, dogmatic, convinced of the rightness of his actions and opinions. Arguing with him would only make him more determined and more likely for there to be widespread collateral damage. I had to find another way.

“All right then.” I said. “You can try to take it.”

He obviously didn't catch my oblique warning, because he just look satisfied. I turned and lead the way to the Reading Room.

Flower, one of our Foo dogs, met us at the door. She sniffed at my companion and her lip lifted in the beginning of a snarl. I stroked her head, pushing down the fur that was standing on end. “It's OK, girl,” I said softly. “Let him in.”

He pushed his way past us and began eagerly scanning the shelves that lined the room. “Ah hah!” He pulled out Blackman's book from it's place and strode triumphantly toward the door, where I was still scratching behind Flower's ears. Ears that were just above my waist as she stood leaning against me.

As he approached, Flower pulled away from me and imposed her bulk between the man and the door. When he stopped, looking a little disconcerted, she clamped her jaws around the wrist of the hand that held the book. He tried to step back, but found himself unable to move with this fluffy but implacable anchor on his arm. He tried tugging, but with no more success than if his arm was encased in stone.

“Mr. Pennebaker! Call off your dog!”

“I'm afraid I can't. Flower won't listen even to me, about this.” I tried to keep the satisfaction from my voice, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded. “You see, Flower is a Foo dog, a guardian of The Library. It's her responsibility to guard these books, and she takes that responsibility very seriously. In fact, if I hadn't been here, she wouldn't have even let you into the Room.”

“But I have a mandate to take this book and make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands!” His face was turning red.

“Does it look to you like just anyone can stroll in here and look at this book?” I asked.

He didn't answer, just turned a darker shade of red.

“As much as I don't acknowledge your authority, sir, she does so even less. If you and the Council feel you have the authority to come in here and take a book, it is not me you have to convince of this, but her.”

I looked at him, still ineffectually struggling to dislodge his wrist from Flower's jaws. “In the meantime, I suggest you put down the book before Flower decides it's necessary to bite your hand off. That is the only way you are getting out of this room in one piece.”

“This isn't over, Pennebaker.” His face was an alarming shade of red, now. “The Council won't have it's decrees flouted like this. We'll be back.”

“And Flower will still be here. It's what she does, you see.”

I wrote a modern fantasy novella, with fairies, portals, and carnivorous trees. You can download it for free, here.

You can also find more of my stories on Gumroad, here.

[muggingthemuse]

An Old Newcomer

“Elias.”

“Yes?” He looked around, trying to see where the gnome's voice came from, and finally spotted a bit of rough gray skin by a stack of books on his filing cabinet. It was probably Asq, the gnome who seemed most willing to show himself and talk to humans at The Library, but Elias couldn't be sure, they looked so much alike.

“You're needed at the back door.” Asq said in his low, gravelly voice.

“All right, thank you.” Elias replied, but found he was talking to empty air.

The back door. Another delivery wasn't due for two days. Which meant that this was likely important. Unscheduled things tended to be that way, around here. Elias left his office and headed to the back stairs, the ones with wide, shallow stairs built for non-human anatomy and balance. At the bottom of the stairs was a cavernous room, carved out of the bedrock, that was always chilly. Open shelves filled much of the space, on which were stacked styrofoam coolers of fish and other meat, along with sacks of grain and corn.

Just inside the door stood a remarkable creature; it had the body of a bull, but large, feathered wings folded over his back, and he had a human head, rather than a bull's.

Elias stopped, amazed. The creature must have heard him because his head lifted and he fixed Elias with a look of such desperate hopefulness, it nearly broke his heart. He stepped forward again, slowly and smoothly. He could see now that his guest was far too skinny for his large frame; his ribs showed through the dark brown hide, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his black hair hung lank.

Elias stopped again a few feet away as the tufted tail started to twitch nervously, and the wings shifted with a shushing sound. “You're a Lamassu, aren't you?” He said, carefully pitching his voice soft and low.

“You know my kind?” The Lamassu's voice was a deep rumble, almost as low as a gargoyle's.

“I know of your kind. I've never met one, before now. May I inquire your name?”

He looked at Elias for a long moment, as though trying to make up his mind whether to finally trust. “I am called Samar. I had heard that you offered...refuge. To such as I am.” He eyed Elias warily, like he was expecting to be thrown out the door at any moment.

“Refuge of a sort.” Elias replied. “We expect you to earn your keep.”

Samar frowned. “Earn it how?”

“As guardian of the knowledge we have here. We don't want to lock it away from everyone, but much of it could be highly dangerous in the wrong hands. Allow access to those who would respect the knowledge and use it well, guard it from those who would not. Can you do that?”

Samar still frowned, but it seemed a thoughtful frown, rather than a suspicious one.

“Do your job well and you will have respect, here. And as much food as you need. We know how difficult it is in the world today for creatures such as yourself.”

Elias' quiet sympathy seemed to break something in the Lamassu. Tears filled his eyes and he turned away, blinking. Elias waited patiently, pretending not to notice the display of emotion.

“I can do that.” Samar said finally, his voice a bit raspier than previously. “I will guard this Library with my life.”

Elias smiled. “Hopefully that won't be necessary. Welcome, then, to the newest guardian of The Library. Let's get you some food, shall we?”

I wrote a modern fantasy novella, with fairies, portals and carnivorous trees. You can download it here.

You can also find other stories of mine on Gumroad, here