Posted in Audacious Notebook, Flash Fiction, Raw Fiction, Word Tickets, Writing

Audacious Notebook 11.29.19

It took a teaspoon of courage to bring the watermelon to the Thanksgiving day festivities. Her family stared at it like it had come from outer space. She smiled widely. Magenta had stashed it in her basement. It was the last and ripest watermelon she had found in the summer. She had drilled a small hole in its side and then poured an entire bottle of grain alcohol inside of it. This was to be her saving grace. If anyone asked about her earth bound duties and whether she was keeping up with the souls she was meant to be guarding, she’d hand them a juicy slice of watermelon. It had absorbed all the liquor and left nothing but the taste of summer behind. She saw that her sister Mauve, in typical bitch fashion, had brought Magenta’s crush to dinner. Mauve spent most of the afternoon fawning all over the young handsome werewolf. Magenta seethed and brought them slice after slice of gorgeous red fruit. Their mother declined any fruit and watched Magenta through narrowed eyes. She’d always known her daughter had a knack for trouble. Mother had hoped that the duties of being a guardian would give Magenta a sense of purpose. Instead she seemed to be acquiring the bad habits of her charges. Mauve and the werewolf were giggling incessantly in the corner. Grandma Rose was snoring next to her bowl of soup. She’d only had once slice of watermelon but she could never hold her drink well. Meanwhile Magenta pranced around being the most helpful of daughters. She served food to the young ones and gathered up dishes to be washed. Finally she was able to get her father to try a slice of watermelon. He marvelled at how juicy it was and it was quickly devoured. His face flushed from the grain alcohol and he demanded a second slice to cool off. Magenta happily handed him a second, larger piece. By five o’clock only Magenta and Mother were still sober. Magenta smiled widely as she said what she had come to say at the dinner table over the many plates of pie and cookies. “I quit my job last week.” If anyone had thought that a pixie was a good choice for Guardian, they stopped thinking that after her first week on the job. She was much better at starting trouble than fixing it.

The table erupted into arguing and Grandma Rose woke up just long enough to throw a slice of pumpkin pie at her daughter in law. Magenta smiled and offered her mother a towel. Mother took it and cleaned the pie from her hair. The food fight that followed was glorious. Magenta threw cookies with glee at all of her family. By the time it was over there were cookies in the ceiling fan and the dog was being dragged away from the remains of Mauve’s apple pie. Everyone looked around at the devastation in awe. Mother frowned at Magenta. “We will discuss this tomorrow. Get out of here while I get these fools to bed. And take the rest of that damned watermelon with you.”

Magenta smiled and did as she was told. As she closed the door she heard the arguing start up again. Her Mother would get them all under control and would forgive her…eventually. But for now she was free for the next twelve to twenty four hours. She grinned at the watermelon and headed to the local bar. She had more mischief to stir.

  • werewolf 
  • watermelon 
  • Magenta 
  • earth bound 
  • a teaspoon of courage 
  • saving graces

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Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady

Posted in Audacious Notebook, Flash Fiction, Raw Fiction, Word Tickets, Writing

Audacious Notebook 11.21.19

Flower was up to her old tricks. She twirled about in her dungeon couture. It had taken her eleven months to go mad while imprisoned behind the ancient sea wall. The wailing of the other prisoners had finally worn her down. Her sanity snapped like a rubber band stretched too thin. Every day when the sun rose she danced across her ten foot by ten foot cell. Her body remembered the movements. It remembered the feel of the shining blue dress her fairy god mother had made for her from the tired old rags she had spent most of her life wearing. But her mind. Her mind had long since forgotten that beautiful starry night when she had fallen in love with a prince and sealed her fate. There was no happily ever after for her. Or for any of the other girls who had fallen in love with the prince of the realm. The guards had caught Flower the moment the spell had worn off. They had imprisoned her at the orders of the King’s Widow. She once was called the Queen and loved by all. The day the King died in a hunting accident was the day the realm was plunged into darkness. A Mystic from a faraway land came to sit beside the King’s Widow. He whispered to her about royal balls and girls coming to steal her only son. Soon the balls became a sacrifice for the sanity of the realm. If the King’s Widow was allowed her menagerie of merchant’s daughters and scullery maids, then she spent her time with them. The realm was left to its own devices. The inhabitants of the realm felt it was a fair trade to be free of the darkness that had hung over them all when the King died. The daughters did not think so and neither did their fathers. The King’s Widow would peek in on them yearly exactly one hour before the next ball was set to begin. The imprisoned girls would be in a frenzy as the King’s Widow looked in on each one of them. She held a pair of baby shoes clutched in her hands. The King’s Widow reached the second to last cell of the row and looked in on Flower. Flower smiled and her eyes shone brightly in the dim moonlight. She laughed maniacally and delivered her message at last. “Make way for the Mystic!” 

The queen shivered and fled the dungeon. The Mystic was waiting for her at the stable. He smiled widely at her. “Good Evening my Queen. Are you ready to join your menagerie? It’s taken 12 years to gather enough power, but now none will stand in my way.” He used a spell to knock her unconscious and dressed her in the rags of a scullery maid. He waited three hours and then delivered her to the guards at the dungeon. The guards opened the thirteenth cell. No one had thought this debacle would go on this long. It was the last cell that had been built. The Mystic smiled at the men and gave them a gold coin each. “Be warned. This last one thinks she is the King’s Widow. I hope to put an end to this pageant once and for all. I speak with her majesty tonight and pray to the moon that this is the last soul imprisoned in this wretched place.” The guards smiled and nodded. They watched him leave. Once he was well out of sight, they released the twelve girls and put them in wagons bound for a convent in the next realm. Hopefully the poor souls would find peace. But there would be no peace in the realm. Tonight, the revolution would begin.

  • dungeon 
  • sea wall 
  • baby shoes
  • flower tricks 
  • couture 
  • make way for the mystic
  • widow’s peak

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Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady