#wss633 — Public Fediverse posts

My Summer Vacation: Boston, 2000

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 South #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Youngest character

My Summer Vacation by Henrietta Dubois

C-: Henrietta, the assignment was for a factual account of your summer. While I appreciate your imagination, your story of near-death experiences, ghosts, messages from beyond the grave, and time travel flies in the face of reality. In the future, confine yourself to the assignment given. — Mr. Palmer.

We left the #south of France after my parents’ wedding...

….

….

“You look like my mother,” I said, and she did. The dress was wrong, but she looked like Mom, with the same hair and eyes. She even talked and walked like her. Maybe it was my imagination because my mom was in the hospital, but I really think they looked alike.

….

….

I started crying and said to the stranger, “A taxi hit her, and she won’t wake up! They don’t know what’s wrong!”

“She’s going to be all right,” she said. “Her appendix burst, but they’ll figure it out. She’ll be fine.”

….

….

I watched the woman hurry out of the hospital, leaving the book she had given me behind.

My new dad came up with a doctor just then. He was pale and upset. The doctor was trying to calm him, saying, “She’s okay now. She only flatlined for a few minutes. I promise there won’t be any brain damage. We’ll figure it out.”

“Idiots! You don’t even know what’s wrong!” Dad was yelling now.

I tugged on his coat and said, “That woman told me it’s her app-appendix.”

“What?” He swatted my hand away. “How would she know?”

The doctor, however, gave me a funny look, then said, “I have to check something,” and hurried off.

Dad followed him a few steps and then came back. We sat there in silence till I asked, “Dad, doesn’t ‘flatlined’ mean she died?”

“Yeah, but they revived her just before I came out. Don’t worry, honey, your mom will be okay.”

“I know.”

This time Dad gave me a funny look, but I pretended not to notice.

Soon after, a nurse came over to us. “Mr. Dubois, your wife is going to be okay. She just came out of the operating room. Her appendix had ruptured, but they cleaned everything out. You can both see her in a few minutes.”

“How did you know, hun?” Dad asked me.

“I didn’t. That woman did.”

“How did she know?”

I smiled but didn’t answer because he wouldn’t have believed me. Instead, I held the book that woman had just given me, The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells, tightly to my chest.

Mom had died, and her ghost visited me. That's what I believe. She left me that book to tell me that time travel is possible and that I would discover it. I know that’s a big leap, but it must be true. Why else would she go to the trouble of giving it to me that way?

#TootFic #MicroFiction #TimeTravel #Ghosts

My Summer Vacation: Boston, 2000

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 South #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Youngest character

My Summer Vacation by Henrietta Dubois

C-: Henrietta, the assignment was for a factual account of your summer. While I appreciate your imagination, your story of near-death experiences, ghosts, messages from beyond the grave, and time travel flies in the face of reality. In the future, confine yourself to the assignment given. — Mr. Palmer.

We left the #south of France after my parents’ wedding...

….

….

“You look like my mother,” I said, and she did. The dress was wrong, but she looked like Mom, with the same hair and eyes. She even talked and walked like her. Maybe it was my imagination because my mom was in the hospital, but I really think they looked alike.

….

….

I started crying and said to the stranger, “A taxi hit her, and she won’t wake up! They don’t know what’s wrong!”

“She’s going to be all right,” she said. “Her appendix burst, but they’ll figure it out. She’ll be fine.”

….

….

I watched the woman hurry out of the hospital, leaving the book she had given me behind.

My new dad came up with a doctor just then. He was pale and upset. The doctor was trying to calm him, saying, “She’s okay now. She only flatlined for a few minutes. I promise there won’t be any brain damage. We’ll figure it out.”

“Idiots! You don’t even know what’s wrong!” Dad was yelling now.

I tugged on his coat and said, “That woman told me it’s her app-appendix.”

“What?” He swatted my hand away. “How would she know?”

The doctor, however, gave me a funny look, then said, “I have to check something,” and hurried off.

Dad followed him a few steps and then came back. We sat there in silence till I asked, “Dad, doesn’t ‘flatlined’ mean she died?”

“Yeah, but they revived her just before I came out. Don’t worry, honey, your mom will be okay.”

“I know.”

This time Dad gave me a funny look, but I pretended not to notice.

Soon after, a nurse came over to us. “Mr. Dubois, your wife is going to be okay. She just came out of the operating room. Her appendix had ruptured, but they cleaned everything out. You can both see her in a few minutes.”

“How did you know, hun?” Dad asked me.

“I didn’t. That woman did.”

“How did she know?”

I smiled but didn’t answer because he wouldn’t have believed me. Instead, I held the book that woman had just given me, The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells, tightly to my chest.

Mom had died, and her ghost visited me. That's what I believe. She left me that book to tell me that time travel is possible and that I would discover it. I know that’s a big leap, but it must be true. Why else would she go to the trouble of giving it to me that way?

#TootFic #MicroFiction #TimeTravel #Ghosts

My Summer Vacation: Boston, 2000

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 South #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Youngest character

My Summer Vacation by Henrietta Dubois

C-: Henrietta, the assignment was for a factual account of your summer. While I appreciate your imagination, your story of near-death experiences, ghosts, messages from beyond the grave, and time travel flies in the face of reality. In the future, confine yourself to the assignment given. — Mr. Palmer.

We left the #south of France after my parents’ wedding...

….

….

“You look like my mother,” I said, and she did. The dress was wrong, but she looked like Mom, with the same hair and eyes. She even talked and walked like her. Maybe it was my imagination because my mom was in the hospital, but I really think they looked alike.

….

….

I started crying and said to the stranger, “A taxi hit her, and she won’t wake up! They don’t know what’s wrong!”

“She’s going to be all right,” she said. “Her appendix burst, but they’ll figure it out. She’ll be fine.”

….

….

I watched the woman hurry out of the hospital, leaving the book she had given me behind.

My new dad came up with a doctor just then. He was pale and upset. The doctor was trying to calm him, saying, “She’s okay now. She only flatlined for a few minutes. I promise there won’t be any brain damage. We’ll figure it out.”

“Idiots! You don’t even know what’s wrong!” Dad was yelling now.

I tugged on his coat and said, “That woman told me it’s her app-appendix.”

“What?” He swatted my hand away. “How would she know?”

The doctor, however, gave me a funny look, then said, “I have to check something,” and hurried off.

Dad followed him a few steps and then came back. We sat there in silence till I asked, “Dad, doesn’t ‘flatlined’ mean she died?”

“Yeah, but they revived her just before I came out. Don’t worry, honey, your mom will be okay.”

“I know.”

This time Dad gave me a funny look, but I pretended not to notice.

Soon after, a nurse came over to us. “Mr. Dubois, your wife is going to be okay. She just came out of the operating room. Her appendix had ruptured, but they cleaned everything out. You can both see her in a few minutes.”

“How did you know, hun?” Dad asked me.

“I didn’t. That woman did.”

“How did she know?”

I smiled but didn’t answer because he wouldn’t have believed me. Instead, I held the book that woman had just given me, The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells, tightly to my chest.

Mom had died, and her ghost visited me. That's what I believe. She left me that book to tell me that time travel is possible and that I would discover it. I know that’s a big leap, but it must be true. Why else would she go to the trouble of giving it to me that way?

#TootFic #MicroFiction #TimeTravel #Ghosts

My Summer Vacation: Boston, 2000

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 South #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Youngest character

My Summer Vacation by Henrietta Dubois

C-: Henrietta, the assignment was for a factual account of your summer. While I appreciate your imagination, your story of near-death experiences, ghosts, messages from beyond the grave, and time travel flies in the face of reality. In the future, confine yourself to the assignment given. — Mr. Palmer.

We left the #south of France after my parents’ wedding...

….

….

“You look like my mother,” I said, and she did. The dress was wrong, but she looked like Mom, with the same hair and eyes. She even talked and walked like her. Maybe it was my imagination because my mom was in the hospital, but I really think they looked alike.

….

….

I started crying and said to the stranger, “A taxi hit her, and she won’t wake up! They don’t know what’s wrong!”

“She’s going to be all right,” she said. “Her appendix burst, but they’ll figure it out. She’ll be fine.”

….

….

I watched the woman hurry out of the hospital, leaving the book she had given me behind.

My new dad came up with a doctor just then. He was pale and upset. The doctor was trying to calm him, saying, “She’s okay now. She only flatlined for a few minutes. I promise there won’t be any brain damage. We’ll figure it out.”

“Idiots! You don’t even know what’s wrong!” Dad was yelling now.

I tugged on his coat and said, “That woman told me it’s her app-appendix.”

“What?” He swatted my hand away. “How would she know?”

The doctor, however, gave me a funny look, then said, “I have to check something,” and hurried off.

Dad followed him a few steps and then came back. We sat there in silence till I asked, “Dad, doesn’t ‘flatlined’ mean she died?”

“Yeah, but they revived her just before I came out. Don’t worry, honey, your mom will be okay.”

“I know.”

This time Dad gave me a funny look, but I pretended not to notice.

Soon after, a nurse came over to us. “Mr. Dubois, your wife is going to be okay. She just came out of the operating room. Her appendix had ruptured, but they cleaned everything out. You can both see her in a few minutes.”

“How did you know, hun?” Dad asked me.

“I didn’t. That woman did.”

“How did she know?”

I smiled but didn’t answer because he wouldn’t have believed me. Instead, I held the book that woman had just given me, The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells, tightly to my chest.

Mom had died, and her ghost visited me. That's what I believe. She left me that book to tell me that time travel is possible and that I would discover it. I know that’s a big leap, but it must be true. Why else would she go to the trouble of giving it to me that way?

#TootFic #MicroFiction #TimeTravel #Ghosts

My Summer Vacation: Boston, 2000

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 South #TimeTravelAuthors 25. Youngest character

My Summer Vacation by Henrietta Dubois

C-: Henrietta, the assignment was for a factual account of your summer. While I appreciate your imagination, your story of near-death experiences, ghosts, messages from beyond the grave, and time travel flies in the face of reality. In the future, confine yourself to the assignment given. — Mr. Palmer.

We left the #south of France after my parents’ wedding...

….

….

“You look like my mother,” I said, and she did. The dress was wrong, but she looked like Mom, with the same hair and eyes. She even talked and walked like her. Maybe it was my imagination because my mom was in the hospital, but I really think they looked alike.

….

….

I started crying and said to the stranger, “A taxi hit her, and she won’t wake up! They don’t know what’s wrong!”

“She’s going to be all right,” she said. “Her appendix burst, but they’ll figure it out. She’ll be fine.”

….

….

I watched the woman hurry out of the hospital, leaving the book she had given me behind.

My new dad came up with a doctor just then. He was pale and upset. The doctor was trying to calm him, saying, “She’s okay now. She only flatlined for a few minutes. I promise there won’t be any brain damage. We’ll figure it out.”

“Idiots! You don’t even know what’s wrong!” Dad was yelling now.

I tugged on his coat and said, “That woman told me it’s her app-appendix.”

“What?” He swatted my hand away. “How would she know?”

The doctor, however, gave me a funny look, then said, “I have to check something,” and hurried off.

Dad followed him a few steps and then came back. We sat there in silence till I asked, “Dad, doesn’t ‘flatlined’ mean she died?”

“Yeah, but they revived her just before I came out. Don’t worry, honey, your mom will be okay.”

“I know.”

This time Dad gave me a funny look, but I pretended not to notice.

Soon after, a nurse came over to us. “Mr. Dubois, your wife is going to be okay. She just came out of the operating room. Her appendix had ruptured, but they cleaned everything out. You can both see her in a few minutes.”

“How did you know, hun?” Dad asked me.

“I didn’t. That woman did.”

“How did she know?”

I smiled but didn’t answer because he wouldn’t have believed me. Instead, I held the book that woman had just given me, The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells, tightly to my chest.

Mom had died, and her ghost visited me. That's what I believe. She left me that book to tell me that time travel is possible and that I would discover it. I know that’s a big leap, but it must be true. Why else would she go to the trouble of giving it to me that way?

#TootFic #MicroFiction #TimeTravel #Ghosts

Emily by Moonlight: New York, 1911

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 Solstice, Turn #TimeTravelAuthors Parents or mentors in your story

A lovely moon had risen over the oak outside my daughter’s window. I looked up at it while I sobered up. The wind felt good on my face. The bar I had come from had been overheated, and the beer and whisky had left my face flushed. We had been drinking to the #solstice. I wasn’t even sure what that was, but any excuse to celebrate worked for us.

The only sounds in the evening air were the frogs in Hollow Bottom, so I couldn't miss the noise of Emily’s window opening. I’ve heard that when Catholic schoolgirls rebel, they go wild, and Emily fit the bill. Mom, that’s my wife, had insisted on sending Em to St. Mark's, thinking it would curb her rambunctious streak. It hadn’t. She was just like my mother: proud, stubborn, and independent. Never afraid to speak what was on her mind.

I stepped back into the brush at the corner of the house when I heard a rustling from the back hedge. That would be Carolyn Luster, the girlfriend. Mom would be fit to be tied if she knew about that. I wasn’t thrilled. Girls like that never had it easy. Neither of them would. Emily was a modern girl unbound from old fashion mores. But she wouldn’t get with child like Mom had.

There Em was, now climbing down the oak. She didn’t know I knew about that. Her white dress shone in the moonlight. Lord knows she was pretty. She was like her grandmother in more than temperament.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #SliceOfLife #TimeTravelingGhost #NMFic #Sapphic #Lesbian #Queer #FathersDay

Emily by Moonlight: New York, 1911

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 Solstice, Turn #TimeTravelAuthors Parents or mentors in your story

A lovely moon had risen over the oak outside my daughter’s window. I looked up at it while I sobered up. The wind felt good on my face. The bar I had come from had been overheated, and the beer and whisky had left my face flushed. We had been drinking to the #solstice. I wasn’t even sure what that was, but any excuse to celebrate worked for us.

The only sounds in the evening air were the frogs in Hollow Bottom, so I couldn't miss the noise of Emily’s window opening. I’ve heard that when Catholic schoolgirls rebel, they go wild, and Emily fit the bill. Mom, that’s my wife, had insisted on sending Em to St. Mark's, thinking it would curb her rambunctious streak. It hadn’t. She was just like my mother: proud, stubborn, and independent. Never afraid to speak what was on her mind.

I stepped back into the brush at the corner of the house when I heard a rustling from the back hedge. That would be Carolyn Luster, the girlfriend. Mom would be fit to be tied if she knew about that. I wasn’t thrilled. Girls like that never had it easy. Neither of them would. Emily was a modern girl unbound from old fashion mores. But she wouldn’t get with child like Mom had.

There Em was, now climbing down the oak. She didn’t know I knew about that. Her white dress shone in the moonlight. Lord knows she was pretty. She was like her grandmother in more than temperament.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #SliceOfLife #TimeTravelingGhost #NMFic #Sapphic #Lesbian #Queer #FathersDay

Emily by Moonlight: New York, 1911

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 Solstice, Turn #TimeTravelAuthors Parents or mentors in your story

A lovely moon had risen over the oak outside my daughter’s window. I looked up at it while I sobered up. The wind felt good on my face. The bar I had come from had been overheated, and the beer and whisky had left my face flushed. We had been drinking to the #solstice. I wasn’t even sure what that was, but any excuse to celebrate worked for us.

The only sounds in the evening air were the frogs in Hollow Bottom, so I couldn't miss the noise of Emily’s window opening. I’ve heard that when Catholic schoolgirls rebel, they go wild, and Emily fit the bill. Mom, that’s my wife, had insisted on sending Em to St. Mark's, thinking it would curb her rambunctious streak. It hadn’t. She was just like my mother: proud, stubborn, and independent. Never afraid to speak what was on her mind.

I stepped back into the brush at the corner of the house when I heard a rustling from the back hedge. That would be Carolyn Luster, the girlfriend. Mom would be fit to be tied if she knew about that. I wasn’t thrilled. Girls like that never had it easy. Neither of them would. Emily was a modern girl unbound from old fashion mores. But she wouldn’t get with child like Mom had.

There Em was, now climbing down the oak. She didn’t know I knew about that. Her white dress shone in the moonlight. Lord knows she was pretty. She was like her grandmother in more than temperament.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #SliceOfLife #TimeTravelingGhost #NMFic #Sapphic #Lesbian #Queer #FathersDay

Emily by Moonlight: New York, 1911

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 Solstice, Turn #TimeTravelAuthors Parents or mentors in your story

A lovely moon had risen over the oak outside my daughter’s window. I looked up at it while I sobered up. The wind felt good on my face. The bar I had come from had been overheated, and the beer and whisky had left my face flushed. We had been drinking to the #solstice. I wasn’t even sure what that was, but any excuse to celebrate worked for us.

The only sounds in the evening air were the frogs in Hollow Bottom, so I couldn't miss the noise of Emily’s window opening. I’ve heard that when Catholic schoolgirls rebel, they go wild, and Emily fit the bill. Mom, that’s my wife, had insisted on sending Em to St. Mark's, thinking it would curb her rambunctious streak. It hadn’t. She was just like my mother: proud, stubborn, and independent. Never afraid to speak what was on her mind.

I stepped back into the brush at the corner of the house when I heard a rustling from the back hedge. That would be Carolyn Luster, the girlfriend. Mom would be fit to be tied if she knew about that. I wasn’t thrilled. Girls like that never had it easy. Neither of them would. Emily was a modern girl unbound from old fashion mores. But she wouldn’t get with child like Mom had.

There Em was, now climbing down the oak. She didn’t know I knew about that. Her white dress shone in the moonlight. Lord knows she was pretty. She was like her grandmother in more than temperament.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #SliceOfLife #TimeTravelingGhost #NMFic #Sapphic #Lesbian #Queer #FathersDay

Emily by Moonlight: New York, 1911

Side story for Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost:
#Wss633 Solstice, Turn #TimeTravelAuthors Parents or mentors in your story

A lovely moon had risen over the oak outside my daughter’s window. I looked up at it while I sobered up. The wind felt good on my face. The bar I had come from had been overheated, and the beer and whisky had left my face flushed. We had been drinking to the #solstice. I wasn’t even sure what that was, but any excuse to celebrate worked for us.

The only sounds in the evening air were the frogs in Hollow Bottom, so I couldn't miss the noise of Emily’s window opening. I’ve heard that when Catholic schoolgirls rebel, they go wild, and Emily fit the bill. Mom, that’s my wife, had insisted on sending Em to St. Mark's, thinking it would curb her rambunctious streak. It hadn’t. She was just like my mother: proud, stubborn, and independent. Never afraid to speak what was on her mind.

I stepped back into the brush at the corner of the house when I heard a rustling from the back hedge. That would be Carolyn Luster, the girlfriend. Mom would be fit to be tied if she knew about that. I wasn’t thrilled. Girls like that never had it easy. Neither of them would. Emily was a modern girl unbound from old fashion mores. But she wouldn’t get with child like Mom had.

There Em was, now climbing down the oak. She didn’t know I knew about that. Her white dress shone in the moonlight. Lord knows she was pretty. She was like her grandmother in more than temperament.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #SliceOfLife #TimeTravelingGhost #NMFic #Sapphic #Lesbian #Queer #FathersDay

@asakiyume @stevendbrewer

Or leave the # off.

Or my favorite use #Wss633

@asakiyume @stevendbrewer

Or leave the # off.

Or my favorite use #Wss633

@asakiyume @stevendbrewer

Or leave the # off.

Or my favorite use #Wss633

@asakiyume @stevendbrewer

Or leave the # off.

Or my favorite use #Wss633

@asakiyume @stevendbrewer

Or leave the # off.

Or my favorite use #Wss633

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This On is too Hot: Part 2

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss633 #Mastoprompt

Clair meanwhile, had drifted to the bookshelf. “They’re bound funny,” she called over to us.

“It’s just leather,” Rebecca said. Her face was red from blowing on the fire, but it was going now and had begun to warm the room.

“No, they’re icky, all crinkly to the touch and slimy. They make you feel weird.”

“Then don’t touch them,” I said.

“But they’re interesting,” Clair replied.

I shrugged and turned to Rebecca, saying, “She’s our daughter, all right.” Rebecca nodded.

“This book is too hard, but you might like this one.” Clair handed me a thick book. On the spine was written “Das Kapital. Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie.”

Clair was right; it made you feel funny: sad, like you were listening to someone crying. For a moment, I thought I heard someone shouting in Russian, followed by a scream.

“And this one is too simple,” Anastasia said, waking me from my daydream. She handed a copy of “Lang’s Blue Fairy Tales” to Rebecca.

I blinked; the room was fuzzy. “Anastasia?” That wasn’t right. I meant Clair. That was my daughter’s name.

Puzzled at my confusion, I watched her walk to the bookshelf again. Her white dress sparkled in the firelight.

She took out a third book. “#Dope! This one is just right,” she said in an odd voice: distant and sinister. She was holding a copy of “Ivanhoe Continued: The Burning of Rebecca.”

“Ah,” Rebecca gasped. I turned, expecting her to object to the “Goldilocks” game again, only she wasn’t there. All that was there was the wall, stove, and blaze in the fireplace, all seen as if in a distorted mirror.

“Mom?” Claire said and walked past me—diamonds draped her snow-white dress—she stopped at the fireplace, gazing at the blaze, which was going nicely, making the air smell faintly of pine smoke. Then I choked as a whiff of burned meat reached me.

Clair screamed, “Mom!” and pointed to the fire.

Wreathed in fire was the image of the woman I loved tied to a stake. The flames licked around her. You could all but her screams. Rebecca. Our Rebecca was there. Ivanhoe’s Rebecca. A witch burning for our sins.

2/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This On is too Hot: Part 2

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss633 #Mastoprompt

Clair meanwhile, had drifted to the bookshelf. “They’re bound funny,” she called over to us.

“It’s just leather,” Rebecca said. Her face was red from blowing on the fire, but it was going now and had begun to warm the room.

“No, they’re icky, all crinkly to the touch and slimy. They make you feel weird.”

“Then don’t touch them,” I said.

“But they’re interesting,” Clair replied.

I shrugged and turned to Rebecca, saying, “She’s our daughter, all right.” Rebecca nodded.

“This book is too hard, but you might like this one.” Clair handed me a thick book. On the spine was written “Das Kapital. Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie.”

Clair was right; it made you feel funny: sad, like you were listening to someone crying. For a moment, I thought I heard someone shouting in Russian, followed by a scream.

“And this one is too simple,” Anastasia said, waking me from my daydream. She handed a copy of “Lang’s Blue Fairy Tales” to Rebecca.

I blinked; the room was fuzzy. “Anastasia?” That wasn’t right. I meant Clair. That was my daughter’s name.

Puzzled at my confusion, I watched her walk to the bookshelf again. Her white dress sparkled in the firelight.

She took out a third book. “#Dope! This one is just right,” she said in an odd voice: distant and sinister. She was holding a copy of “Ivanhoe Continued: The Burning of Rebecca.”

“Ah,” Rebecca gasped. I turned, expecting her to object to the “Goldilocks” game again, only she wasn’t there. All that was there was the wall, stove, and blaze in the fireplace, all seen as if in a distorted mirror.

“Mom?” Claire said and walked past me—diamonds draped her snow-white dress—she stopped at the fireplace, gazing at the blaze, which was going nicely, making the air smell faintly of pine smoke. Then I choked as a whiff of burned meat reached me.

Clair screamed, “Mom!” and pointed to the fire.

Wreathed in fire was the image of the woman I loved tied to a stake. The flames licked around her. You could all but her screams. Rebecca. Our Rebecca was there. Ivanhoe’s Rebecca. A witch burning for our sins.

2/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This On is too Hot: Part 1

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss633 #Mastoprompt

Rebecca closed the cabin door, shutting out the winter wind and snow that blew in. Our breath hung in clouds in the still, cold air of the room. We might be trespassing, but it was better than sitting in our stalled car.

I called out again, “Anyone home? Sorry for intruding, but our car broke down, and it’s freezing.”

Again, there was no response. The owners had probably gone to town to avoid the blizzard that was in the forecast.

We really shouldn’t have been on the road, but Grandma had grown tired of us and had hinted, “Thanksgiving is over. Wouldn’t you prefer sleeping in your own beds?”

My girlfriend moved past me to the fireplace. “I’ll light a fire. Why don’t you see if there’s food? We can leave money on the table when we leave to pay for any inconvenience.”

Clair had already begun exploring and called from the door at the far side of the room. “It’s a bedroom with three beds: one big, one small, and one in between. This one is too…”

“Don’t say it,” Rebecca called to her. I wasn’t sure why the joke bothered her so much, but it did. Rebecca had always been the stricter of the two of us and got peeved if I interfered, so I kept silent.

While the two did their thing, I began looking for food. The can on the table proved to be red bean soup made by a Japanese company. I’d always thought a sweet bean drink was weird, but I guessed it was popular. It was funny finding it here in the middle of the Bitterroot Mountains, and I wondered if the owners were Japanese.

A cupboard next to the stove proved more fruitful. There was some cup ramen, tins of diced tomatoes, a package of sun-dried #prunes, and a couple of kilos of rice.

Part 2 in the next post

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This On is too Hot: Part 1

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss633 #Mastoprompt

Rebecca closed the cabin door, shutting out the winter wind and snow that blew in. Our breath hung in clouds in the still, cold air of the room. We might be trespassing, but it was better than sitting in our stalled car.

I called out again, “Anyone home? Sorry for intruding, but our car broke down, and it’s freezing.”

Again, there was no response. The owners had probably gone to town to avoid the blizzard that was in the forecast.

We really shouldn’t have been on the road, but Grandma had grown tired of us and had hinted, “Thanksgiving is over. Wouldn’t you prefer sleeping in your own beds?”

My girlfriend moved past me to the fireplace. “I’ll light a fire. Why don’t you see if there’s food? We can leave money on the table when we leave to pay for any inconvenience.”

Clair had already begun exploring and called from the door at the far side of the room. “It’s a bedroom with three beds: one big, one small, and one in between. This one is too…”

“Don’t say it,” Rebecca called to her. I wasn’t sure why the joke bothered her so much, but it did. Rebecca had always been the stricter of the two of us and got peeved if I interfered, so I kept silent.

While the two did their thing, I began looking for food. The can on the table proved to be red bean soup made by a Japanese company. I’d always thought a sweet bean drink was weird, but I guessed it was popular. It was funny finding it here in the middle of the Bitterroot Mountains, and I wondered if the owners were Japanese.

A cupboard next to the stove proved more fruitful. There was some cup ramen, tins of diced tomatoes, a package of sun-dried #prunes, and a couple of kilos of rice.

Part 2 in the next post

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe