Klaudia Grady

Never use a fairy for your security team. I don’t care how cute they are. They will double cross you every time. Let’s say you put together an exquisite exhibition as a gift to the Holiday Museum. Your personal collection of priceless figurines is arranged behind bulletproof glass. The insurance company demands that you hire private security as well. You interview fifty people but you choose the fairy squad because they blend in with the festive decor. It is a true, natural miracle they don’t murder you for the bell ridden atrocity of a uniform you select for them. For the opening night you commission a designer to create a gown that encompasses the style of your life: luxe with a hint of whimsy. You stand before the doors of the great hall, a crowd of affluent gentle folk mill around you. You search for Yang, the museum director, but give up and order the doors opened. The crowd holds its breath and then the screams and panic begin. People flee from the room behind you. Instead of a decadent collection of figurines and old earth tchotchkes – you find a terrified Yang bound to an evergreen with twinkle lights. A large glass ornament is impossibly shoved in his mouth. The fairies have smashed every other piece of glass and porcelain in the room. The shards swirl in a circle while the fairies chant rhythmically inside of it. A deep red glow comes from the floor and a Night Mare steps through. She possesses tentacles instead of hooves and the moment she clears the portal, she chomps her too sharp teeth. An eerie crooning sound comes from her and you know you should flee but you take a single step forward. The crooning noise increases and the last thing you hear are the bells on the fairies shoes as they ride the Night Mare to their chosen sacrifice…YOU.

• holiday gift
• the style of your life
• natural miracle
• security
• terrified yang
• fairy

Join the Grady Guild to get your story fix! These stories will be delivered to your inbox the same day they are written!

Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady

No one called upon the tragic muse, deliberately. She held down her bar stool at The Cherry Blossom and sipped on whatever the bartender served her. She had unlimited free drinks but they alway tasted bad. The wine was corked. The beer was flat. The mixed drinks were overly sweet, overly sour, or on one really bad night: both. Tonight she was sipping on a Lemontini and wincing at the pucker of the lemon. As soon as she finished it, the bartender refilled her glass. She was halfway to drunk when the young man sat beside her. He had dreams of being an overnight sensation, Mel could smell them. She sighed and downed her drink in one gulp. “How can I help you Matthew?”

Matthew fidgeted in his chair. “I want to be famous. I want it so badly I can taste it. Three of your sisters laughed at me. I thought maybe you could help me. And show them up.”

She smiled at the thought of one upping her sisters. Comedy and Dancing were by far the most popular, but people were even willing to beg outside Hymns door before they came to see her. “Only three of my sisters? Most visit all eight before deciding to slum it with Tragedy.” Matthew squirmed in his chair. She had guessed correctly. Every one of her sisters had slammed the door in his face. That was quite the feat. It wasn’t as if they all lived in the same neighborhood. She sipped her sour Lemontini and looked him over. “Is there a medium you prefer?”

“Words. I love writing.”

She smiled at hime. She’d let this one off easy. She reached over and kissed his cheek. Her magic settled over him. He sighed in relief and thanked her. He wandered out of the bar. He would write a famous novel before the year was over. But no matter how many edits he did, errors would remain. Even errors he had already fixed would reappear. His grasp of grammar was now tragically bad. The energetic internet assholes will have a field day trolling the comment section of anyone who showed appreciation for his book. Within a month of publication, Matthew will be turned into a meme. Even the tragic muse has a sense of humor.

• overnight sensation
• cherry blossoms
• energetic
• tragic muse
• asshole

Join the Grady Guild to get your story fix! These stories will be delivered to your inbox the same day they are written!

Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady

The tiny wizard sat on a spool of thread on the kitchen table. She was furious that her shrinking spell had backlashed on her. All she had been trying to do was miniaturize her luggage so she wouldn’t have to pay the exorbitant airline fees. Now she was stuck in the kitchen of her rival waiting for help to undo the spell. It was humiliating to be sitting in the whimsical kitchen. Open shelving showed off mismatched and wonky plates. The tablecloth had little hand embroidered tea pots all over it. She’d had no idea her redneck neighbor lived with his 85 year old granny. All she’d ever heard was him revving motorcycles in the garage & then taking off into the sky on the enchanted Harleys. He had a steady clientele of bikers wanting the latest anti grav spell put on their bikes. The walk here had taken half a day in her shrunken state. He came in from the garage & went to the sink to wash up. He then sat at the table and poured a cup of tea. He put an obscene amount of honey in the cup and then sipped it gingerly. She stared at him in frustration. He smiled. “I can’t say I’m not tempted to leave you in this state for awhile. It would cut down on your noise complaints.” She went to speak and he held up his hand. “I’m kidding. Granny would have my hide for leaving a fellow wizard in the lurch. I went and examined the spell residue at your place. Seems you triggered the personal gain backlash. I can’t believe you tried to cheat the airline out of fees. Didn’t they teach you better than that at fancy ass magic school?” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Ok I can undo it but you’ll have to pay the price. Either green hair or no voice. The effect will last up to a month.”

I stared hard at him, openmouthed. He could control what price was paid for magical backlash?? He was better than anyone I knew. I sighed. “Green hair please. I have to speak at a conference tomorrow.” He nodded and grabbed a wooden spoon. He took several deep breaths and then began casting with the spoon. I’d never seen anything like it. After he’d laid out the circle, he held out his hand and I stepped onto it. He placed me in the center of the pattern and then closed the loop. The magic shot through me. I returned to my regular height and sighed in relief when I could see over the counter.

“Thanks Wilton. I owe you one.” I bolted out the door & sprinted home. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and nearly screamed. My hair and eyebrows were now lime green. I grabbed my biggest hat, my luggage, & headed to the airport.

• spool
• whimsical
• wizard
• with a spoon
• redneck

Join the Grady Guild to get your story fix! These stories will be delivered to your inbox the same day they are written!

Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady