The good folks over at SpeckLit have notified me they intend to publish some of the drabbles I sent them in the first quarter of 2016.
I won’t spoil the surprise regarding title, plot or content of each, but the expected publication dates for my one hundred word fiction bits are 1/9/16, 1/21/16, 2/2/16, 2/18/16 and 3/19/16. Or you could just watch for them by frequenting the site often, like I do. 🙂 (That’s http://www.specklit.com)
And now for they ones they didn’t go for in my last submission…
The Hills Have More Than Eyes
It had been Hilyard’s idea to come up here. Something about a monster. He’d wanted something for his audition—one of those crazy paranormal series.
He got picked off the first night. Don’t know if I’d call the picker ‘monster.’ It was thin and quick; he was gone in a whirl of fir needles.
Don’t know how it got me. I started changing the next morning, hiking back down that infernal ridge, wondering what I’d tell his family.
Now I’m alone, something hairy and searching. Small animals, some insects. Another climber like him, like me, will come along some day.
Author’s Note: There are worse fates in life than ending up as an insect eating, hill-dwelling hairy beast. A lot worse.
At Least It Wasn’t Avada Kedavra
“Cartesqu,” the old wizard admonished the old witch, “why have you failed to remove this wretched curse? I have suffered with it two weeks! It has blackened my tomatoes and ruined my rutabaga. I cannot raise my wand even a millimeter.”
“I’m sorry, Prazon,” the old witch replied. “I have labored to no avail to stop this madness. I, too, am powerless against this harsh punishment.”
Prazon was shocked. “Who has done this to us and called it punishment?!”
“Our nephew, Taylor,” Cartesqu said with an eye roll. “It’s his revenge for refusing to let him watch those Harry Potter movies.”
Author’s Note: Not only will the younger generation of wizards be smarter, it will be more vengeful. Even if the bulk of it will carry names like Taylor, Brianna and Mason.
“It’s all right, little one,” Joy told her young charge as she fussed in her crib. Delicately, she scooped up the baby and began rocking her. “There, there. Your mom and dad just don’t understand.”
Quietly, Joy hummed a lullaby. The parents had given her a room, and the freedom to watch over the child from midnight to six a.m. She invested the time in education, mainly bedtime stories, the ones that would prepare the kid for the future she would enjoy, wreaking havoc over all life on earth.
“There, there,” she said, again, admiring the baby’s searing red eyes.
Author’s note: I love babies, but sometimes they scare me a little.