Old Boot

I was the last soul to leave the capital. I pulled my car out of its hiding place. It started easier than I’d expected; I nosed my way through the empty streets, dodging sofas. The noise of the engine was distractingly raucous in the silence. Within fifteen minutes I was on the highway, but before I could really hit the road I came on something in the middle of the blacktop. It was just a single black boot. Then I saw the fresh blood trailing down the highway.

I’ve been sitting here ever since. I don’t know what to do.

Store Policy

“Sir,” said the sales associate. “I’m afraid you’re not dressed properly.” Bosco blinked down at her slowly.

“Yeah, right,” said Steve. “The sign says shoes and shirts–Boz’s got both.”

“But,” said the sales associate, surveying Bosco and thinking quickly. “He’s not wearing any pants.”

“There’s no rule about that.”

“But… he’s a grizzly bear,” she said.

“No rules against that, either,” said Steve.

“Wooaarg,” said Bosco, and knocked over a rack of clothes.

“We do have a rule against that,” said the sales associate triumphantly.

“Aw c’mon, Boz,” said Steve as they left. “We were almost in.”

“Woooarg,” said Bosco.

I’ll tell you right now this one’s dear to my heart.

Queen Victoria’s

Queen Victoria appeared on the wall one day, but nobody at the brothel would admit to having put her there. Not the miserable, desperate-eyed girls, nor the madam, nor any of the regulars. However, no one could bring themselves to pull her down. She became something of a fixture; eventually none of the hookers could imagine life without her blurrily benignant presence.

Many years later when the madam and her whores were all dead, they tore the brothel down.

“What’s this, then?” Angela said, squinting in the ill-lit secondhand shop.

“Ooh,” said Mary. “Just some old print of Queen Victoria.”

Witch-Gifts

The girls went into the forest first, where they met witches and returned suitably gifted. Alice and Cecilia dropped pearls and diamonds from their mouths. Letitia unfortunately met with a cranky witch and spat newts. Then they sent Gavin into the woods to seek his fortune, armed with a bag lunch and a flashlight.

He met a person who said: “Looking for a witch?”

“Yes,” said Gavin.

“Better yet, I’m a fairy. Favorite animal?”

“Butterflies,” Gavin lied.

“Capital. Butterflies’ll follow you wherever you go. Good? Home with you.”

His parents scolded, but Gavin was relieved. Spitting things seemed so awkward.

Drabble day rolls around once more!

The Rule of Angels

The angels came on mechanical wings when my father was a boy. They never requested anything, but what they said was done. We were dazzled by them, clockwork divines with shining faces. They did not promise us anything–they did not have to.

Now we are all happy. The angels rule us peaceably.

But I know that someday they will start killing. Angels are too innocent to rule sinners without taking on their taint. It will be a terrifying harvest.

That is why I have never married. I cannot bear the thought of my children alive to see the angels’ fall.

Another drabble!

Sister’s Concern

Amelinda sat at her favourite window, staring out to sea. Last night Jonas was caught out there on the angry water. Today, however, the surface of the little sea was glorious, virginal. Out there sailboats bobbed, seagulls wailed and circled, people and sandpipers curvetted stilt-legged along the beach. In the deepest waters playful sea monsters surfaced to enjoy the sun. Amelinda took all this in from her window-seat without comment, although her lips tightened when she thought about Jonas’ narrow escape. She pressed her thumbs hard into the fat red spellbook in her lap.

Next time, Jonas would not escape.