It’s every orphan’s dream to be told that they’re really a princess to be whisked away to the family’s castle in a horse-drawn carriage.
Leslie’s heart was pounding as they made their way along the forest road.
Then, they pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
At first, she was worried that she was going to be told it was all a big mistake, but a rattletrap carriage was coming the other way.
A girl’s voice within, screaming threats and obscenities.
Then, she realized, it’s also every princess’ nightmare to be told they’re an impostor, and sent away.
Tag: fantasy
The Dragon’s Tail
Isaac sat beneath an apple tree and watched a mob of farmers charge up the hill, pitchforks waving, heading to the dragon’s cave.
He closed his eyes and waited for the roar to come.
RRRRROOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!
A pack of screaming singed farmers carrying scorched pitchforks ran down the hill, half-heartedly pursued by a massive scaly green lizard with wings.
Until it stopped, walked up to Isaac, and grumbled “What’s up with those clowns?”
Isaac shrugged. “I can calculate the motions of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of men.”
The dragon sighed, grumbled and walked away, his tail jostling the tree.
The Price Of Admission
I wake up.
Everything hurts.
I check to see if I’m bleeding.
Just bruised, scratched and sore.
This time.
Checking my nose to see if it’s broken, I smell the most wonderful aroma.
I wobble out of bed, stagger to the kitchen, and Tiffany’s there making the most incredible breakfast.
As she always does.
But the price of admission is steep, I think, rubbing my wrist.
I gotta break it off… before she breaks it off.
And then the first bite.
Another. And another.
She reels me back in.
I finish. She smiles.
Tomorrow. We’ll break up tomorrow.
After breakfast.
Put To Sleep
Once, he was the youngest of our cats.
He ran circles around the others, who hissed and swatted at him with arthritic paws.
Now, he is the oldest, and it’s his turn to go to the vet.
He will be put to sleep.
No, this is not a euphemism for euthanasia.
He will be literally put to sleep.
And then flash-frozen.
Just like the others.
Deep in the salt dome under the city, the Pyramid Of Bast is being constructed, one brick at a time.
One soul at a time.
When completed, perhaps she will arise.
And all will rise.
The Third Thumb
I once heard of a psychic claiming they had a “third eye.”
Well, then I’ve got a “third thumb.”
You see, I’m a movie critic. The Celluloid Spy.
And I’m afraid of the dark.
Yeah, I hire mailroom interns to stand in for me at movie screenings.
My trademark trenchcoat, fedora, and fake beard make sense now, right?
So, when you wonder if the critic saw the same movie you did, you’re right: I didn’t.
But here’s the thing. I’ve been perfectly accurate in my plot synopses and ratings.
Stupid kid, getting hit by that truck.
Never saw that coming.
Sockpuppet
Nobody paid Walter Drub any notice.
But his sockpuppet, Senator Fenton, was leading the polls in October. Practically a shoe-in for the presidency.
I can’t explain how this happened. It’s just as weird to me as it is to you, and I’m his chief of staff.
But somehow, Boston elected a sockpuppet mayor, then senator, and now the entire country was falling in love with him.
Sadly, it all came crashing down when Walter tried to wash Fenton, and he vanished in the dryer.
He tried using a right sock.
“Impostor!” people shouted, and poor Walter ran for his life.
Mother’s Day
We watch the suntigers weave among the clouds, chasing each other.
Every so often, they fight, and a glinting tooth falls from the sky.
Picking through the underbrush, we collect them in baskets and return to the archmage’s hut.
He looks over our harvest, tosses away the fractured ones, and spots a good solid crystal.
“Perfect,” he says.
He places it over the eyes of our mother’s corpse, chants something, and then holds the crystal up to the light.
Mother’s battered face appears on the opposite wall.
“Parker the Butcher,” it says.
The killer is arrested, and justice is done.
Stonebeard
King Stonebeard was dying.
All of the giants came to his mountain castle to see which prince would be chosen as king.
Instead of choosing one, Stonebeard walked up to his favorite throwing boulder and said “Whoever can pull this boulder off of this sword will be king.”
And with a final rush of strength, he drove it on to the sword.
All of the giants tried, but none could remove it.
Angrily, one of the princes picked up the boulder and hurled it out the window with all his might.
Then he put on his father’s crown and laughed.
Earworm
Earworms are songs you can’t get out of your head.
Usually, they’re bad songs.
But this one is good. Better than good. A reminder that not all is lost. And there’s hope.
It’s like an angel on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. Don’t despair. Don’t give up hope.
You can make a miracle happen.
On my other shoulder, the devil there tries to convince me otherwise. Tells me that things can will get worse, horrifying, it’ll never end.
The music drowns out his babble and chatter, and he screams for me to fear, for sweat and terror to drink.
The Ship
That, my friend, is no ordinary model of a ship.
Behold, The Magnificent Mechanism of Master Craftsman Blert!
What a fine galleon is it, rendered in miniature with the most exquisite rare woods, semi-precious stones, spun silks, and intricate gears.
It is not just an ornamental centerpiece, mind you. It is also highly functional.
Pull the anchor chain to play music.
The sails are endless self-cleaning napkins.
The cannon fire pepper, salt, or any number of spices for your meal.
Dip your fingers in the fingerbowl-hold to wash them… or is that the cigar-cutter?
Bow, stern. I get so confused.