Every now and then, I indulge in a flash fiction fest. Below are two as cold as a witch’s heart—perfect for a day in January. The challenge was to tell a story in 100 words or less. What do you think?
“Run!” My lover stands atop the castle tower, a shadow in the moon-bright sky. “Don’t stop. I’ll find you.”
Out the castle gates I fly. Magic snaps at my heels, enchantments loosed by a foe beyond my craft.
“I’ll find you!” My enemy hisses.
At the outer gate, I fall, spent, my fingers coiled above the atom of life in my belly. The castle, a black hole in the night, blazes to phosphorescent blue lightening . . . and winks out. Gone. Dissolved in the ether.
Whose witchery prevailed? I squint down the path with light-blind eyes. Waiting.
Best Laid Plans
They say you can trap a witch in a mirror. Catch her soul, they say. If you break the mirror, they say, she’ll be imprisoned for ever.
That’s what they say.
But mirrors work both ways. If you know the trick.
Which I do.
Scattered across my floor, shards of glass reflect moonlight. Inside each one, a tiny torch-bearing figure. Some pound the glass. They can’t believe what just happened. Some stare out at me with sad eyes. Some beg for mercy.
I broom them up and dump them in the recycle bin.
Will they never learn?