Day 190 Writing Short Stories

Creep

She was sure someone was following her. She had had that feeling for days. Still, whenever she glanced behind her, there were only the shadows and the stillness of moments that had passed. Yet, the feeling remained. No matter how many times she checked it, how many times she convinced herself that it was just her mind playing tricks on her, it was there. Thus far, her instincts had kept her safe. Thus far, she had relied on them, and she would rely on them even now when her senses were playing tricks on her.

She had started to carry her father’s letter opener with her as she made her way through the city, as she walked from her father’s apothecary to home and ran errands for her mother and father. The letter opener made her feel like she had some control over the feeling.

She took a step into the alley between the tall stone buildings that led to the small path to their home. One that belonged to her mother’s parents. One left for their only daughter. Something that had caused quite a stir in the city’s social circles. But it all died down once mother married her father, and the ownership of the building was transferred to him. She would never inherit it. It went to her little brother. He would get everything. Her only hope was to marry, even when she knew how to run an apothecary, even when she helped her father make the tinctures. There was no one she liked.

She stopped, listening to the empty air behind her. It was full of sound. Sounds like someone wanted to mask.

“I know you are there; stop creeping around behind me like a creep and show yourself,” she said.

There was no return.

She turned around to watch the empty alley behind her, but there was more there. In the shadows. The same pressure she had felt before.

She drew her letter opener out. “Show yourself,” she stated.

There came laughter. It was strong and throaty. “How?” a male voice asked.

She wanted to say something clever, but all she could think was, “I don’t know.”

“We thought you were clever and showed promise, but not this kind of promise. Not the strength to see past glamour,” the voice said. A tall, dark man, dressed all black, stepped out of the shadows. He was nothing special. He looked like any other man in the city. But he had stepped out of the shadows, so he had to be something.

“Who is this we?” she asked. Still keeping the letter opener between them.

“May I?” He showed his pocket, then pointed at her letter opener.

She lowered it, but kept it ready if needed.

The man produced a letter bearing a crow crest. It had her name on it.

She opened it. It was an invitation to a society of witches. She was to take an apprenticeship under their tutelage.

“What do you say?” the man asked.

“Yes,” she said before her own thoughts could catch up with her mouth.

Clowns

Clowns are scary. Ones who ruin a tea party don’t deserve a short story — read: I couldn’t think of anything coherent to write.

Invisibility

It had been a mere accident. He had brushed his hand against a hex that was not meant for him, and his protection spells and the hex had collided. At first, he hadn’t noticed what was happening. He had always been invisible to most creatures in Necropolis. His goblin body and governmental badge were nothing in the city full of gargoyles and werewolves. But when no one had spoken to him all day, and the clients coming into his office just brushed past him, he suspected that there was something strange going on. A mirror test had confirmed it. He was invisible.

He had panicked, screamed at the top of his lungs, and begged for help from any passerby, deeming him a poltergeist. But then, when he had calmed down, he had seen the upside. No one could see him. He had tested the guarding hexes at his workplace, too. They didn’t detect him either. There was only one place in the known city where he wanted to be. It was the Necromantic Council’s secret archives that held the secrets of the known and unknown universe within its walls.

He smirked.

After that, he would go to the library and read the books that the resident librarian forbade the public from reading. He would finally have the city by its throat and win the eternal game of politics.

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

I could write today as I have free time from work. I have over two days’ worth of overtime, and I have to spend them before December. So here I am, free to do as I wish. It just started raining, but I think I’ll still go out for a jog. Then I might take a nap with my cats and enjoy my day without duties.

If any of you have connections to a society of witches, I can be your mascot.

It was fun to situate the last short story within my own Glorious Mishaps universe. I might try to do it more often when there is an ample opportunity. It’s always nice to flesh out the universe and feel it come to life.

Have a wonderful day! Thank you for reading ❤