The Door

The trapdoor had presumably been there since the house was built, hidden beneath the basement. If I hadn’t been replacing the carpet, I would have never found it. It was perfectly flush with the cement floor, a small latch set to help it open. There were no markers on it, nothing to identify what the small square hole in the floor was for.

 

I expected the door not to open, or to be locked but it took barely any effort to lift it up. Beneath it was wooden stairs descending into an maw of blackness. What was down there? My heart raced in my chest, and I swallowed with difficulty. I had to know, I couldn’t leave this unknown room sitting below me as I went about my day to day in the house.

 

My first step onto the stairs startled me with its loud groan. I stopped breathing for a moment, expecting something to come flying up the stairs towards me. My hands were shaking trying to shine my flashlight, causing shadows to dart back and forth. The trapdoor was too small for me to see anything beyond the stairs from where I was. I would have to completely commit, go entirely into the room to find out what was down there. A big breath settled my hands, and I took the next creaking step.

 

The room smelled of old metal. Dust motes lazily drifted in front of my light, disturbed from their long slumber. My foot left the last stair and found smooth dirt. My left hand trailed on the wall to keep myself steady, the cool cement comforting. I lifted my phone in my right hand, using the flashlight to cut through the gloom to see a ratty white cloth draped over a large shapeless object. The object dominated the room, which was rather small, maybe ten feet by ten feet. A large wire ran from beneath the cloth, into the far wall.

 

I reached out, pulling the cloth off the object. More dust swirled around me, obscuring my vision. I coughed and waved away the particles. The odor of old metal got stronger. My light creeped up across a metal contraption, looking rusted and decrepit. It was freestanding in the center of the room.

 

It looked like a metal door frame without a door. That was the simplest way to describe it. A series of switches and buttons adorned one side, with the other side a mess of wires that tapered to the single large wire running into the far wall. What was the door for? I crept closer, fascination overtaking my fear. I walked through the empty door frame, and circled the device. Nothing happened.

 

The switches and buttons used to have writing on them, but they had been long worn away. A quiet hum filled my ears as I got closer, coming from the machine. There was three switches and three buttons on the control panel, each in a corresponding vertical line. Tentatively I reached out and flicked the top switch. The hum got louder and the top button began to glow red. I pressed it, and nothing happened. Thinking it must be switches first, then buttons, I flicked the next two switches in quick succession.

 

All three buttons were lit up. The hum was loud now, filling the room with its growing pitch. For a second, I considered walking away. I didn’t know what pressing the buttons would do, I didn’t know what this door would do, where and how it would open. I could turn around, leave the room, seal the entrance and put it from my mind. I could’ve done that. I could’ve left my life the same, unchanged but for a small itch of “what could’ve been” in the back of my head.

 

Instead, I hit the buttons, top to bottom, in quick succession.

 

The hum died, the red light of the buttons faded to darkness. Then my phone flashlight went out. I was thrown into near darkness, my eyes struggling to adjust. Only the open door cast light into the room. Silence reigned and I held my breath in anticipation and disappointment. Had I ruined it? It was broken now. I should have taken my time, waited for help, found someone who could figure out what the doorway was for. My impatience had ruined whatever discovery this was, and apparently my phone as well. I flicked the switches and hit the buttons in ways, different timings.  I couldn’t get it to turn on again. I turned to leave.

 

As I reached the foot of the stairs, I saw my shadow on the wall. It was in front of me, at my height, not below me like it should have been. I looked over my shoulder at the contraption. A pale blue-white light filled the metal doorway. The hum hit my ears a second later, louder and higher pitched than before.

 

I walked back to the metal door, entranced by the light. This was a thing of fiction, a door to another reality, another plane or another time. How old was this? What mind had created this, then hidden it away? Why? What was its purpose?

 

A part of me thought back to my defeated thoughts a few moments prior, and realized that it would be better to go find someone else to study this. But the rest of me wanted the adventure, to climb through and discover for myself what was on the other side. I was almost touching the door now, the blue-white light pulsed gently before me. I raised my hand and reached out.

 

As my hand touched the light, it was pushed away by someone coming through the doorway. I was knocked the floor heavily.

 

“You haven’t gone through the door yet right?” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t make out any details in the dark and shadows. “If this is my timeline, then you haven’t. The first time I tried, it was just set to receive so I couldn’t go through.”

 

I was pulled to my feet by the other person and in the soft light I was startled to see myself. My clothes were more ragged, and my beard heavy, but it was me. I worked my mouth, but no sound came out.

 

“I know, I know, it’s weird. Trust me, there’s rules about this, but we can’t go over them all now. Just trust me when I say you can’t go through this door. It opens up way too many problems. All the cans of worms.” The other me walked to the control panel and threw the bottom two switches and hit the middle button. “Ok, once I’m through here, just cut the cords and walk away. Trust me, or yourself, however you want to say it.”

 

“Ok,” I managed to push out. I wouldn’t go through. I would seal the room and pretend it never existed.

 

The other me flickered out of sight for a moment, then reappeared where was before. In that instant, my mind was set on fire. Every thought was agony and my heart felt like it was being pulled from my chest. I dropped to the ground in pain, as the other me did as well. Even in the faint light I could see the horror on his face.

 

“Timelines,” he gasped. “Of course as soon as I convince you not to go, then you don’t go, and I cease to exist, giving you no reason to stay here. How come I couldn’t remember this from when I went through it? Is it a safety measure, protecting myself from this?” He looked to me for help. I had none to give.

 

“Then you have to go. This device is a curse and a wonder.” He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “These are instructions that I was given to help operate it. I… must’ve given them to myself when I first went through. Where did they come from then? God I hate timelines.” He rubbed his temples.

 

“Do I have to go?” I whispered.

 

“Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,” he snapped. “That gives you some serious plot armour to survive till you get to where I am. After this point for me, I have no idea. Just remember a few things. One, towels are really the most useful thing to bring. Two, there aren’t any time ripples so don’t worry about butterflies and shit. Three, I wish I had stayed here…” He trailed off in thought. “But in fairness, the places on the other side of the door is pretty incredible. You don’t know it yet, but we’re going to save the universe.

 

“I just wish I could’ve saved her. I wanted to keep you from that pain. From watching her die and being helpless. Apparently I can’t though…” The other me blinked tears from his eyes. “Alright bye. Good luck, though apparently I don’t need it, since I got to this point. Immutable streams of time and all that.” He stepped through the door, blinking out of existence.

 

I looked down at the book in my hands. It was worn and grimy and smelled of faint rot. It was time for an adventure.

Lavender and Blood: Part 7

Marissa screamed impotently, unheard. Mab dropped Sam and picked up their child and started walking towards the door. Marissa hadn’t even named her.

 

She wouldn’t know everything her parents had done for her. She would grow up in the wrong place, or maybe she would be killed and thrown away once she was done being useful. Like Mab had done to Marissa, to Sam.

 

Marissa threw herself between Mab and the doorway. There had to be something to stop this. Mab looked through Marissa, through to the other side of the door. A terrible hunger had settled on Mab’s face. Marissa knew the look. It was how she had felt when she fought to get Sam’s love. Mab was a desperate creature, and had found what she wanted.

 

Marissa turned to the doorway and reached out to grab at it, tear it apart, anything. She felt herself touch the doorway.

 

Lightening blossomed in her veins, a waterfall cascaded through her heart. Marissa was power incarnate. The doorway flicked, went out. Marissa felt herself overflowing, drowning. The magic demanded action or it would burn through her. Marissa knew just what to do with it.

 

Marissa manifested just as she landed a punch on Mab’s cheek, shattering her skin once more. Mab hadn’t seen it coming. Marissa had no idea how she was doing this, but the magic seemed to respond to her desire, changing things around her. Marissa could end this. Her vision went blurry with rage, every thought but killing this monster leaving her mind.

 

Marissa grabbed Mab’s shoulder and slammed a fist into Mab’s face again. Mab fell face first to the ground, stunned. Marissa brought her fists down together, striking again and a thick black substance started oozing from Mab’s ears. Mab didn’t move.

 

“So much… better than being… a ghost,” Marissa said as she stood panting over Mab. She wasn’t drowning in the magic now. She could think clearly again. Her child, where was she?

 

Marissa found her, crying under Mab’s form. She had Mab’s black blood smeared across her forehead. Guilt and regret rushed through Marissa as she lifted up the baby. This would be the first and probably the last time she ever held her.

 

“Mommy loves you, please remember that,” Marissa whispered. She couldn’t feel her legs any more. They were fading out of sight as Marissa looked down. She was running out of magic and time.

 

She placed her child on Sam’s chest and leaned over to give them both a kiss. Sam stirred and held the child in his half conscious state. Marissa needed to help him, get him out of here. She willed magic into him, trying to bring him back to awakeness. His eyes fluttered, then opened.

 

Marissa was so happy she would get to say goodbye and tell him how –

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam sat up. He was still in the white room, though it was much darker now. His arms held his child. What had happened? Mab was motionless, face down in what looked like an expanding puddle of blood. His child let out a small cry and he gently hushed her.

 

“Rissa? You here?” Sam’s question was met with silence. His heart started to race. She wasn’t here anymore. Sam needed to leave. He had his child, it was time to go. He stood carefully, head spinning a little.

 

Mab screeched inhumanly, raising herself on limbs that were no longer marble. Instead, they seemed to be rotting, nearly falling from her bones.

 

“She took it all. Everything. It was mine.” Mab’s voice was guttural and raspy. “We made the deal. The child is mine. Mine.” She started dragging her body across the floor faster than should have been possible, streaks of blood being left behind as she rushed at Sam.

 

Sam turned and ran. He wasn’t proud of it, but he still didn’t know much about this magic stuff and he didn’t want to deal with it anymore. If he could reach the door, he could be safe. Mab wouldn’t come into the main part of the hospital like this, would she?

 

The room started to break apart. Sam saw a mop and a door frame appear ahead of him. There was a pressure in the air, like being squeezed. The space Mab had made was falling into pieces and he was inside. They needed to get out.

 

Mab tackled Sam with a squelch from behind. He hit the ground hard, protecting his girl. Something hard dug into his gut.

 

“She wasted it. Then poof, gone. You are not worth it.” Mab pierced his his back, digging her fingers into his flesh, tearing through his shirt. “I will win. Always do. Better.”

 

Mab, Sam, and his child fought for their life in a storage closet. The magic holding the room in it’s special space was gone. A broom fell over with a loud thump. Sam grasped at the hard thing in his gut, wanting to use it to beat Mab. His fingers wrapped out the gun he had dropped.

 

“Game over Mab.” Sam whipped the gun into her temple to give him some space, then emptied the chamber into the center of her mass as she fell back. He could feel her presence leave, the room becoming emptier somehow. He had won. He was so tired.

 

The hospital had erupted into a panic as Sam exited the closet. Security was everywhere, and Sam was highly conspicuous covered in blood, holding a crying child. Sam didn’t know what he would have to say, what story he would need to tell, but he would do whatever it took.

 

Sam looked back at the closet and said a silent goodbye to Marissa. He wasn’t ready to say farewell, but she had left him a persistent reminder of her. A reminder that had her eyes. Sam smiled sadly and held his daughter close.

Lavender and Blood: Part 6

The unborn child had to have her power. That was the only thing that made sense.  Damn it, she was becoming like them. Gullible and stupid. Mab shook her head, clearing the thoughts. It was too close of a call. She had devoured some Doctor without thought for the consequences, just to survive the encounter.

 

She knew Sam and Marissa had not known who they had summoned, as they were oblivious to her when they met Mab for the check up. Now it was her turn to get the jump on them. Reclaim the child as was the deal, and take back the power that was rightfully hers.

 

What Mab did not understand was how it had happened. How did the power get pulled from her? Why did the woman do it? Was the deal another trap? That thought gave Mab pause. If the woman had managed to steal from her already, there was nothing stopping this entire situation from being another set up.

 

If Mab knew how, then she could stop it. There was something she was missing. Marissa had a secret. Maybe she was not even aware of it. Oddly beautiful Marissa. Her husband had looked so relieved when she held his hand, even with the stress and dangers of the pregnancy.

 

The realisation struck Mab like a summer storm.

 

Marissa was a changeling. Mab doubted Marissa even knew it. She was changing her husband’s emotions without even realising it, feeding off his energy. Mab had not accounted for Fae blood when she cast the spell. Marissa had sucked in Mab’s power entirely unaware. The miserable woman was wasting it in her mundane life, not realising how hard Mab had worked for that power.

 

The upside to this was that Mab was not working against some diabolical plan. Just a mistake, and one she would not be as stupid as to repeat again. Mab would take back what was hers, and more. Mab’s life was worth way more than that lowly changeling.

 

Mab would bleed Marissa for this suffering, and take the child too.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Marissa watched Sam kneel. As Mab touched his shoulder, Sam’s eyes rolled back into his head. He went limp, falling to the floor. It couldn’t end like this, with barely a whimper.

 

“Hey! Let go of him!” Marissa felt lame as the words left her mouth. Mab didn’t react. “Seriously, you can’t take him too! You’ve already taken everything! Take me instead!” Marissa realised Mab couldn’t see her.

 

Marissa rushed at Mab, winding up the biggest punch she had in her. She floated through her, with no reaction from Mab. Mab grabbed the back of Sam’s shirt with one hand and lifted him like he barely weighed anything. Her other hand stretched out and started tracing a large rectangular shape. Her fingers left a glowing shape in the air. Marissa could feel the power being shaped. It was a spell. Mab was making a door.

 

“Seriously, fuck being a ghost,” Marissa said. She took another swing at Mab, her fist floating harmlessly through Mab’s head.

 

Mab’s face cracked, then became whole. It was only for a split second, but Marissa saw it. Mab’s skin had fractured like glass, and there was a glimpse of something rotting beneath. She wasn’t this almighty being, she was hiding a weakness.

 

Marissa only wished she could do something.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam had come under Mab’s power just like she thought he would. For years he had been manipulated unknowingly by his changeling wife. It had toughened his spirit, made it stronger, more powerful. Like a tempered blade, Mab wielded his spirit now, cutting between worlds. A manic smile spread across her face. So close.

 

The door between worlds was nearly impossible to craft being cut off from the power of the Faelands, but Mab should be able to make it work. Magic was purely instinctual to the Fae, there was no concrete explanation.

 

Mab could smell the rich earthy air of her home when she faltered.

 

It was a split second, where the strength of Sam’s soul wavered. He doubted momentarily if he was doing the right thing for his daughter, pulled away from Mab’s spell. She barely held onto him.

 

Mab licked her lips in anticipation. She could do this. Everything would be hers. The years had just served to make her stronger.

 

The door was done.

 

Mab stepped forward, dropping Sam’s limp form to the floor.

Lavender and Blood: Part 5

Sam touched the door cautiously. He could see nothing, but the fear in Marissa’s eyes was all he needed. There was danger here. The doorknob felt warm in his hand. Sam’s biggest issue was the fact that he was blind to this magic. There were rules here he didn’t understand, but was being forced to play by them nonetheless. He swallowed nervously.

 

The lock clicked itself open in his hand.

 

“Open it, what are you waiting for?” asked Marissa almost immediately. “If you want an invitation, I feel like this is as good as it’s going to get.”

 

“First, if she’s opening it, it’s obviously a trap. Second, I don’t know how this game works. Will my gun work? Will we walk through there and be killed immediately? She had the power to help impregnate you, what else can she do? Damnit Marissa, we know nothing.” Sam hesitated at the door, not willing to commit through the threshold.

 

“Can I help you sir?” A nurse had seen him, and approached. “The bathroom is down the hall, this is just a storage room.”

 

“You don’t have time to figure this out Sam! This isn’t where you work the case. You have to act,” Marissa interjected from behind him.

 

“Sorry Ma’am, must’ve just gotten turned around. Thank you.”  Sam needed a second to reassess. Walking away, not arousing suspicion would be the best course of action. He started towards the bathroom.

 

A baby cried from behind the magic door. Sam knew it might just be another trick, but deep down he knew it was his daughter’s cry. She needed help.

 

Sam threw open the door and was plunged into darkness as he crossed the door frame.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mab felt a tug on her mind. An old calling, one she had not heard in a long time. It had been centuries, back when the bard had come singing her sweet praises, looking for immortality. She made sure he got just that even if no one knew his face. Fool did not understand the contract made, mortals never did.

 

Now, someone was sobbing, begging for a blessing. They called for more than deserved, like always. Mab was excited at the prospect of a deal however. She knew she could use it to her advantage. Lavender had called her, but blood would be collected.

 

The woman laid bare in a washtub of water. She had lit candles, worn the crown of spring and said the words. Mab approached her, unseen. The woman was desperate, yearning for fertility. The foolish mortal saw it as a way to save her relationship. Mab would give her the fertility, but lay claim to whatever was borne. The woman was not asking for anything but the fertility after all.

 

Mab considered making a changeling momentarily, but dismissed the idea. It was how the old ones did deals. They had usurped her, and she would not use their rules to bind herself. She would be better, show them their mistakes.

 

Still invisible, Mab stood over the woman. She was oddly beautiful. Mab reached down and caressed the woman’s cheek. The woman flinched.

 

“Are you here, Green Mother?” The woman asked quietly. Mab smiled at her ignorance. Never call out into the dark unless you are sure you know what lurks. But now she had a guise.

 

“Yes, my child. Rest,” Mab whispered as she reached inside the woman.

 

Everything went wrong. Mab could not breathe. She was not able to think. Blood oozed. A voice called from down the hall. Her power, where was it? Where had it gone? She needed it. Mab pulled away from the woman. She had tricked her. It was a trap. Leave, she had to go. The deal was set still. She would get her due. One way or another.

 

Mab fled as Sam entered the room.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Darkness turned to light. Sam was standing in a room much larger than a closet. The walls seemed infinite, perspective skewed in sheer size. He looked behind him, and there was no door. Just Marissa standing with her arms hugging her abdomen. The only thing in the room was a large throne, with a figure sitting in it. The light was too bright to make out who it was. Not that Sam needed any confirmation. He pulled out his gun and took off the safety.

 

“Mab, give me my child back,” Sam called out. He started walking towards the throne.  

 

“You dare speak to me mortal? Do you have any idea whose presence you are in?” Mabs voice dripped venom and disdain.

 

“Yeah, Queen of the Storage Closet. Not that impressive if you ask me.” Sam started to sweat. As he got closer to the throne, he could feel Mab’s force of presence. Like an awed silence, it pressed onto him. “Look, I don’t know what deal you made with my wife, but I’m here to cancel it. Null and void.”

 

“Look around you fool. Do you not see the power I wield? You are just one more soul lucky to be crushed beneath my feet. You should beg to be taken as well.” Mab’s imperious words echoed in the room.

 

Sam was close enough to see Mab clearly now. She looked very similar to the doctor she had pretended to be, however her body seemed to be carved from marble.  There were no flaws to be seen. Her eyes were perfect emeralds.She was utterly stunning. Sam was awed, he was blessed to be in her presence. He dropped his gun.

 

Why shouldn’t she take their child? Sam was just an ant. He couldn’t provide for his daughter like Mab could. He fell to his knees, dropped his chin to his chest. Supplication was the right choice. She would help him, make things better. He felt Mab’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“Good,” Mab purred. “Now we take my revenge.”

Lavender and Blood: Part 4

“In the stories, didn’t the Fae leave a child of their own when they took a child?” Sam held the door for Marissa as he entered the hospital. He realised that the action was pointless, and let go. Marissa flinched as the door passed through her.

 

“Yeah, changelings. They were supposed to be a terror to raise, and their magic always screwed with people’s emotions. Fairies are all about balance. Take something, give something. Not sure where Mab was when they gave those lessons though.”

 

“Isn’t there a contract? A deal that was agreed upon?”

 

“I didn’t think it worked. The Fae that responded was supposed to feed on the berries, lavender, a bit of my life force and in return bless my womb. There was nothing about taking the baby, or me dying…” Marissa trailed off. “I don’t know. Things aren’t supposed to go this way, Sam.”

 

The hospital smelled just short of sterile. It was a uncomfortable smell, lingering in the nose. As if no matter how hard they scrubbed, or the chemicals they used, they couldn’t get the smell of death out of the walls. Harsh fluorescent lights painted the hallways pale. People passed Sam with their heads down, not wanting to see more suffering than they were here for.

 

A large and colourful mural greeted Sam as he entered Labour and Delivery. The large giraffe in the mural seemed to be leering at him as he passed. Knowing there was some kind of child stealing fairy lurking around, turned every attempt at making the ward cheerful into sinister.

 

“How does this normally work?” Marissa asked. “The detective stuff, that is.”

 

“I look at the scene, look for the clues, talk to witnesses, mayb-”

 

“Huh, what about that door?” Marissa interrupted. She pointed at an unmarked door down the hall.

 

“Why that door?” Sam walked over to it. It looked like every other door in the hall, minus a room number. “Probably just a storage closet.”

 

“Can’t you see it?” Marissa’s eyes were horrified. “There’s all these strange symbols around the door frame. Looks like it’s painted in blood?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He had returned. Why had he returned? The magic had been cast. He shouldn’t remember his child. Was it the grief of losing his wife? Did that break the spell? Mab sat in her dark and cluttered throne room, a feeling of concern spreading inside her.  

 

She had earned this. She had taken the child, having given her own essence to make sure it would be born. It was rightfully hers. This man had no claim. He had ruined his own life. Mab was just the one who exposed it. Why had he returned?

 

Her concern changed to indignation. He thought of himself as better. Just like they did when they cast her out. Everyone looked down on her. But she had survived. She had built this place herself. She had stolen others when they were not looking. Her will had kept her alive, stopped her from fading.

 

Was he the next step? Her way back to her rightful throne? Yes, his wife had changed him enough. Mab could bring this man into her hidden place. Feed from him. Use his life to go home. Strength. She needed more strength. Even to face this broken man.

 

She turned to the infant and began to feed on it. Caressing it, she felt the life power flow into her. Thoughts expanded and became more concrete. It wouldn’t be hard. She would simply open the door to him, and like all foolish mortals, he would willingly sign over his mind.

 

Stars above, she was hungry. How long had it been since she had fed? She had thought it had not been that long, but now she realised how close she had been to being a mindless monster, driven by instinct. Nearly feral. The child looked pale now, and let out soft cries as its life energy was siphoned off. Mab stopped feeding. She was still hungry, but if the child died she wouldn’t have anything to trade.

 

Mab looked around her throne room. It was dark and strewn with lifeless husks from past feedings. She needed it to be more presentable. A snap of her fingers made the room bright and spotless. It cost her more magic than she wanted, but was needed. The man needed to see her in a position where he couldn’t do anything but bargain with her. Bringing the child to her breast, she settled onto her throne.

 

She unlocked the door and waited.

Lavender and Blood: Part 3

“That name rings a bell, but I can’t place it.” Sam had started another cigar. It wasn’t any better.

 

The papers on the table were more organized now, having been stacked by Sam as he moved through the info, looking at it from this new perspective. He still didn’t believe in magic, but what other option did he have? He wanted the world to run on logic, cause and effect, but that seemed impossible at the moment. If he suspended his belief, he could dig through this, find out what he needed.

 

“She’s the midwife fairy in Romeo and Juliet, and a Queen in the Fae world. I just thought it was a sign. God I was stupid. I didn’t think Mab would actually be the one to help. I didn’t realise what the cost was of asking for help,” Marissa said limply.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The delivery room was exploding with sound. Marissa had started losing blood at an abnormal rate, triggering nearly a dozen people coming into the room. Each of them had a purpose, had a reason to be there. Sam sat holding her hand, worry and fear setting in as he watched his wife’s face get paler and paler. Her screams became weak cries, then faded into nothing.

 

“Changing priority!” Doctor Mab called out. She hadn’t broken a sweat yet. “Baby is nearly out. We can’t save her without removing the child. Terrance, start compressions. Janice, get the pads out, get ready to shock. Sharon, prep the lines for epi. Full code now.”

The room was so loud, Sam almost didn’t hear his daughter’s first cry.

 

He saw her, her eyes scrunched up, fist balled up. Doctor Mab pulled her free, cutting the cord and stepping away with their daughter. Another Doctor stepped up and took over the care for Marissa. Doctor Mab left the room, a brief glance over her shoulder.

 

“She’s not coming back,” said a voice into his ear. “Mab isn’t who she claims.”

 

Swinging his head, Sam stared dumbly at Marissa beside him, then looked to where she laid on the bed. “But…”

 

“I’m dead Sam, but you’re not. You need to save our daughter.” Marissa’s face scrunched up in frustration like it normally did. “Now follow her!”

 

Sam let go of Marissa’s hand. It fell to the bed, limp.

 

In the hallway, he saw no sign of Doctor Mab. The apparition he thought he had just seen wasn’t there either. It was just shock. His wife was dying, but the baby was fine. This was an emotional moment. It would be ok, he just needed a moment.

 

“Where did Doctor Mab take our child?” Sam asked the nurse at the main desk. She looked blankly at him.

 

“Sorry, which doctor? I don’t know her,” said the nurse. Sam’s heart stopped.

 

—

 

“You need to save our daughter, Sam.”

 

Sam didn’t respond. He steepled his fingers. He had spent the last few days being an emotional mess. Blindsided by things it felt like he had purposely ignored, he realised that he needed to set aside his feelings and solve this. Just another case, just another set of clues. Sam had all the pieces now, he just had to put them together. For her.

 

“Alright then,” Sam said. “Let’s do this. Let’s steal our baby back from the Queen of the Fae. Reality be damned.”

 

Flash Fiction: Disappear

John made a cork from a bottle of wine disappear.

It was simple sleight of hand. He was used to quarters however, so the palming was awkward, sloppy. Tommy was always better at the misdirection. It didn’t make sense, John had practiced more.  

John took another pull, feeling the wine burn. He made the cork disappear again. Still too sloppy. Tommy would be disappointed in him. The wine helped his frustration at the failure.

“You two used to practice your tricks out here,” John looked up, startled from his dark reverie by his mother’s approach. She pointed at the abandoned bus, where John sat in the open rear door. “didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to sit, drink and make himself disappear.

“I remember when you first found it, you and Tommy brought blankets out here. Wanted to spend the night camping in it. I swore you’d get tetanus. Told your dad to tow the old damn thing off our land.” Her voice broke.

“Mom…”

“Look John,” she cut him off, her voice strong again. “No one blames you. You made a mistake. Sitting out here, drinking yourself stupid in the shade of a happy memory, is ok for today. But tomorrow, you’ll put on your black suit, and you’ll come to the funeral. Tommy would want that.”

John didn’t answer, taking another drink. She sighed with resignation and walked away, back to the house. He watched her go, wanting to call out. To say sorry, to say anything to fix this. He just watched.

He palmed the cork again, cleanly this time. Tommy would be proud.

It didn’t mean anything. But as he leaned back into the cool metal of the bus, it was enough for the moment.

Summer Drive

Window down

Arm loose in the breeze

A smile dangles from my lips

As you lean into the leather

Sweet smell of love,

Mixed with summer heat

Greatest Threat

The necromancer laid dead at Welf’s feet. Thick black blood oozed from its wounds. Welf turned to his party, a wolfish grin across his face. The rest of his party looked exhausted and battered, but small smiles crept across their faces as well.

“We finally did it.” Azer’s voice sounded dumbfounded. “All the minions, all the little quests and we finally killed that necromancer!” His wizards hat was bloody and askew.

“No thanks to you, cowering in the corner like a pansy,” Griss growled. He stood up from where he had been blasted to the floor and picked up his bloody daggers.

“Hey! I ran out of spells! I was using cantrips every round! This is what happens when you decide not to do a long rest before taking on the big boss,” Azer’s voice squeaked indignantly.

“Really you two? You knew there was a time crunch before he summoned his patron to the realm. We had to act. Stop bickering,” Lillian said. Her armour still glowed with faint holy light, even in a dungeon this dark and deep. “Besides, now that this is all done, I’m sure we can go take some time off and find something to spend the reward we get from the king, as well as whatever treasure we find down here.”

“Bad things! Friends!” Welf shouted, pointing at the piles of bones laying around the party. They were reanimating, rising up into larger forms than they had been previously. Within seconds, flesh and muscle was creeping over the bones. Before the party could reacted, the mass of skeletal defenders the necromancer had assembled had reanimated into five owlbears.

“Seriously Frank?” Lillian groaned.

“C’mon Frank, I gotta head home soon. You can’t just extend the fight because you thought it was too easy,” Azer said. “Let’s just call it.”

“Yeah I’m out,” Griss agreed. “I have a chem paper due monday that I haven’t started.”

The owlbears advanced. The party did nothing.

“See you Frank! Thanks for the great night, can’t wait to see what you have planned next week!” Welf’s voice was faint.

The owlbears leapt on the party, feasting on their flesh. There was no retaliation from the four heroes. They were frozen in place by some greater magic. As the pain and terror became too much, a tear rolled down Lillian’s cheek. Why did her god have to forsake her now? Why would she let such a terrible thing happen to them?

“Fine, they can leave. These can be waiting for them next week.” An unknown voice echoed through the room. “But they’ll start at disadvantage.”

In a blink, everything had rewound. The owlbears were mere feet away from the party, mouths open in undead hunger. Lillian stood, frozen in place, still unable to move. In the corner of her eyes she could see Welf straining against the force that held them in place. How long would this stasis last?

The torchlight dimmed and then went out a few hours later. In complete darkness, Lillian could see nothing. Hear nothing. Feel nothing.

In nothingness she waited.

Flash Fiction: Wishing

The Wishing was well underway. Church members formed the main mass of the parade, proudly displaying their Wishing garments. The glass beads sewn into the cloth reflected the lanterns light across the crowd.

“Peace, Love, Equality!” The Cardinal wished loudly, his staff held high.

Vaera watched from behind Lareth’s, her mother, dress hem, eyes glowing with excitement. Pointing at the knight clanking by them, Vaera tugged softly at the dress. Lareth looked down at her, a smile playing across her face.

A glass bead fell from an outfit of someone passing, and Vaera darted forward to grab the small treasure. Lareth cried out, her hand grabbing at air where Vaera had been seconds before.

“Vaera!” Frantic, Lareth pushed into the procession. A hand grabbed her roughly, pulling her to the edge of the crowd. She quickly lost sight of Vaera as the Cardinal and his worshipers passed by.

“Blessings will be given later, leave the Cardinal to perform the ceremony.” The guard had bags under his eyes, and a deep shadow on his jaw. “Everyone wants to get a wish.”

“No, my daughter! She went into the procession!” Tears streamed down Lareth’s cheeks as she struggled against the firm restraint.

“I can’t let you in there ma’am. The Church requires everyone to wait for their wish.” The words came out monotone, the guard’s eyes glazed over. Lareth’s plight wasn’t reaching him. Heart pounding, Lareth lashed out, striking his broad nose with her elbow. Cursing, he let go of her. Lareth dashed into the crowd.

The cavalcade had thinned now, and Lareth found Vaera crouched on the street unharmed, hands cupped around a glass bead.

“Look momma! My wish came true!” Proudly Vaera showed her treasure.

“Mine too,” Lareth whispered, relieved, as she bent to embrace her daughter.