A Little Tooth Fairy Magic

When Mary visited the new dentist, his eyes twinkled at her before setting to work.  One by one every tooth needed mending giving Mary precisely enough visits to turn into Mrs Dentist.

 

Here is my offering for Trifextra this week with the word TOOTH.  

Last week I didn’t manage to submit my story for WEAK on time, but since I wrote it I thought I should post it anyway.  If you’re interested read on 🙂

The Strike

Kyle’s assurances sounded weak, hollow, even to him.  He was standing on the upturned casket that served as a low podium, barely a foot above the other heads.  But he was high enough to observe their changing expressions.

He remembered a time, not so long ago, when his words ignited fire. Men jumped at his command; much like that game his children used to play before the curfew set in.

Now, all his words did was aggravate the Union men.

“You said it would only last a few days.”  Murmurs of dissent echoed off the edges of the filthy crowd.

The strike had already been going on for three weeks and these men had children of their own to feed.

It wasn’t Kyle’s fault though.  Back in the old days, back when the bosses were human, strikes had had an effect; workers had had a say.  Kyle could never have predicted that the Authority would send the Bots in; that the workers who didn’t punch in would be picked off one by one and terminated. A human mind can never predict that.

“As long as we keep our heads together; keep a civil tongue in our mouths, they’ll take us back.”  That’s all he had to hope for now; forget the inhuman hours; forget the subhuman conditions that had sparked their protest. Their rivals weren’t human.  The rules of engagement were unknown.  The odds were insurmountable.

Mind’s Eye

 

copyright-renee-heath

Copyright -Renee Heath

A girl was dancing in the street, her braided hair spinning at the exact same angle as her skirt.  Her figure shone bright with each revolution that brought her out of shadow  and into the pouring sunrays caressing the asphalt.

A man leaned against Bidwell’s doorframe, looking on but not seeing the girl.  His eyes were glazed over like he was recalling something distant.

The images are seared inside my mind still. Only the useless details though.  Years of therapy have yet to bring back the face of the man who left the bag against the hydrant, right before it all went black.

For Friday Fictioneers. I added my dark tale to the many dark inspirations that this week’s picture has instilled in the brilliant minds of the Fictioneers.

Beesity

Copyright – Jennifer Pendergast

‘It’s the Beesity epidemic?’

‘The what?’

‘You know… what they were saying on the news the other day…the obesity epidemic that’s hit the bees!’

‘Oh! … What the hell is that?’

‘It doesn’t matter, just stay away from the damn things.  Charlie from work said that his mother’s cousin’s daughter was stung by one and it split her in half.’

‘Oh!’

‘If it comes anywhere near you just don’t move and stay calm.’

‘Oh! … OH! … Brady…?’

‘Yes, sweetie?’

‘Don’t panic…’

‘Why should I panic, sweetie?’

‘Do. Not. Move.’

‘Shit! Sweetie? … Sweetie? Where are you going? Sweetie!’

For Friday Fictioneers.  Not particularly proud of my attempt this week, but it is what it is.  Hope you like it better than I do!

My Damsel

I dragged her screaming.  But she never prayed for rescue, nor shed a tear. She glared at me; eyes burning in anger not fear.  Therein lay her charm.  She conquered me.  I’m hers.

Dragon and Damsel _2

Copyright: Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon by Scott Appleton)

I gave you 33 words for this Monday’s Trifecta Challenge which is: CHARM (verb) 3: to control (an animal) typically by charms

Though technically I didn’t…I had this done for a Trifextra Challenge a couple of weeks back; the one that had no subject and just said, ‘Give us your best 33 words.’  Do you remember that one?  Well I had prepared what by no means did I think were my best 33 words (by the way, thanks for not piling on the pressure on that one, Trifecta!) but they were the best I could do at the time.  Then, when I pressed ‘Publish’ nothing happened.  I tried and tried.  In the end, my tiny story remained in the draft section till today and until I read Draug’s post – which is brilliant and also about dragons – and it was than that I remembered that I have a dragon of my own waiting his turn for a spot on the web.

So there you have it; a back story which is longer than the actual story and a tired writer hoping you’ll like her work.

Good night, you all!

A Bike Called Betsy

Copyright -Anelephantcant

 

I had a bike called Betsy when I was about six. Grandpa gave it to me about two years before he died. He never managed to teach me, so I taught myself; my knees and elbows were a mess for a while.  Once I learnt though, I used to ride all the time, and when no one was looking I even used to ride with my eyes closed, pretending I was flying. I was just returning from a ride when I found my mother in the tub.  After that, I never touched a bike again.

For Friday Fictioneers.  Hi all! I found it a bit hard to feel inspired this week, I must admit. But no matter, I came up with something in the end.

Thanks for reading.

 

Through the Crack

crack_of_the_door_by_mariana_vieira-d3b3e7d

Crack of the door by *Mariana-Vieira
Digital Art / Drawings & Paintings / Fantasy ©2011-2013 *Mariana-Vieira

Her body was sprawled on the floor visible through the heavy door’s open crack.  Her eyes were shut, but I knew that face, only, I couldn’t remember how.  I couldn’t remember much of anything.

I wanted to see if she was alive; I felt that I needed to.  My breathing was getting too fast and too loud, so I held it and stepped closer pushing the door open.  But that widening inch sounded like thunder hitting the dark hallway and my hand withdrew from the wood like it had turned white hot.

Footsteps came from my right.  The corridor was a long, narrow expanse of darkness, but a golden archway was now rippling forward, lighting the stone, approaching in time with the footfalls. Continue reading

Satanist for a Day

goats_and_graves_3_randy_mazie

Copyright – Randy Mazie

When Boo decided to become a Satanist, Randy tagged along.  They bought themselves leather jackets and dog collars and prepared for the ritual. They had watched enough television to know how that went.

Full moon saw both youngsters at the cemetery dragging a bleating Sandy behind.  They found a marble tomb and took out the knife.  Then sat and stared at the goat.

‘I can’t do it, Boo! Me Pah’ll kill me!’

‘Grow some balls!’

‘Boo, I can’t!’

Boo gave out a grunt and snatched the knife, hiding his trembling fingers.

A twig snapped.

The young men were back at the barn faster than Sandy could bleat a reminder that she was still attached to the tree.

When I saw this picture on Friday Fictioneers, I went, ‘Oh shit! How can I explain this one away!’ Then I thought and thought, and an idea did come to me, but I must confess, I couldn’t keep to the hundred word deadline this week; which is a pity because I’ve missed quite a few challenges in the past weeks! If you can offer any suggestions they are very welcome and I’ll edit as the comments come in 🙂

The Speed of Mouth

It all started when Emma told Donna that she liked Fred. At the time they both giggled and left it at that.

Later that day, when Donna was walking home from the bus drop-off with Pippa, Donna found herself at a loss for words.  Pippa, who was in with the cool crowd, only walked with Donna because she had to, them living on the same street and all, so when Donna felt that familiar awkward silence coming on, she fished frantically inside the innards of her brain for a topic.  And she found it; only, when Donna told Pippa that Emma liked Fred she scrunched up her nose and tried hard to sound all-knowing; “Not just likes Fred…she likes-likes him.” Who could blame Donna? This was Pippa she was talking to!  Pippa shrugged and allowed the silence to fester. It was not until the next morning that the little piece of news came in handy.

She was sitting in the aura of Maggie; taller, blonder, more beautiful than Pippa could ever be.  Gazing at the jocks walking by, Maggie disturbed the air with a high-pitched; “I dunno what you’re all looking at! They’re all little boys!”

“Hmm-mmm, we all know what your type is!” said Sammy, and Maggie smiled her I’m-so-grown-up-and-mysterious smile, which basically gave her a duck face.  Pippa, who in the two years of high school had become allergic to that smile, began to simmer; “If it’s Fred you’re talking about, forget it.  He likes Emma!”

And that was the last peaceful morning Emma spent at that school.  She was jeered at and bullied to the brink of depression until her parents dragged her and their belongings out of town.

Still, Emma got it better than Fred did.  His attorney pleaded with the judge that it was only a rumour, and the judge should know how rumours fly; especially ones so juicy.  But the judge didn’t buy it and Prof. Fredrick Simmons ended up in jail for abusing a minor.

mona-lisa-duck-face

For Trifecta.  The word given to us this Monday was FLY:

You know it actually took me two days to come up with a story?! But my mind pulled through in the very early hours of the third day (It’s 00:53 over here).  Hope you like this one.