Day 57 Writing Short Stories

Underground London

You know, you have always known, that there is a world between worlds. It exists in every city, every moor, every remote mountain valley, but mostly it resides where there are humans. You have had an eye for it as long as you can remember. You watch the crack between the hair salon and the coffee shop, seeing the bar that shouldn’t exist with its neon sign. You glance at the other pedestrians on the street, and no one else sees what you see.

You lick your lips. You have walked past this place so many times, not daring to step in. The underground London has yet to introduce itself to you. You have seen the news behind the news. There is a war going on between the magical folk. It’s no place for you, but you can’t help but feel curious. You crave being included. The normal world and your clerk duties feel so unimportant, so dull. You ache to have powers beyond your eye.

You tie your fingers against the bar’s doorknob and are about to pull it open, but there comes a voice.

It sings its words out from lisping lips, “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

You spin your head around, searching for the voice, and see the hair salon door open. There’s a small goblin woman with eyes like a fish, bulging out as if she’s stripping you to your bare bones. The goblin snarls as she sees you seeing her as she is, and not as the others around you see, like a stunning blond with long legs that rise high, pink gel nails, and voluminous hair extensions that make her look like one for the runways.

She hisses as you keep staring at her with your mouth open. “Close that gap, girl, or I will close it for you.” Her fangs are bared.

You shut your mouth instantly and swallow.

“You’d better come in, and I’ll explain the rules. We don’t want a seer getting killed on her first day. No, we don’t.” The goblin shakes her head and motions you to step into her salon.

You do as you are told.

The salon is a salon with a row of hairdressers’ chairs, sinks, and trays full of scissors and hair dryers. You can’t help but feel disappointed. You somehow expected it to be magical.

“You are lucky that I have a slow day, or else I would have let you go through,” the goblin says, and hops on the counter stool.

She motions you to find a seat, and you stumble back onto one of the hairdressing chairs. The chair spins around on its own accord, and you see the goblin swirl her painted finger, manipulating the chair.

“Now, now…” she says. “Where is one to begin?”

—

I wanted to continue this, but then my mind hit a wall, and I wasn’t sure where to go. I think this would require more time than I allocate to a quick writing exercise. I had fun writing this one. I’m a sucker for underground London stuff, especially now as I’m reading Alan Moore’s The Great When. Such books always make me feel as if I have arrived home. I have never, thus far, entertained the thought of writing such a book myself, but lately it has become more appealing.

I didn’t enjoy Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London series. It felt like it doesn’t live up to its full potential; it lacks the real mystique you can find in Alan Moore’s books and others like them. It feels like it’s written with saleability in mind rather than for the story’s sake. But of more recent books, Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon by Wole Talabi was wonderful. It had the real underground London in it, and a clear passion for writing the story.

What I got today was a voice-driven fantasy quest told in the second person.

Thank you for reading! Have a magical day ❤