Leftovers – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

Jessie St. James felt a grin growing as she watched Justin MacDowell toddle around the worn wood floors of Otherworld Books, the stubby felt feathers on his turkey outfit sashaying with each bit of progress he made. She looked at Brian and found him grinning, too, teeth a flash of white against terracotta skin, before he leaned over and redirected his adopted little brother. “It’s hard to believe how much he’s grown in just a month,” she said, and decided to plant her plump butt in the doorway of the stock room to corral him a little. Brian chuckled and Read More …

Things Fall Apart – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

He sniffed the air. The scent of burnt bones and under it—blood. A lot of it. And the outhouse smell of violent death. He walked the utility area carefully, reconstructing the deadly dance from a lifetime lived among its devotees. The spatters of brown flecks. The dust-free smears where a body had been dragged, struggling. A broken fingernail caught in the chain-link. The cloying smell of burning hair and garbage, and just a hint of cucumber. Acetone. At least they had destroyed the body, but it meant the attackers were not human. A human gang might have doused the body Read More …

There’s A Monster at the Door – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

The little monster crept toward the door of the enormous stone house. Maybe this was not such a good idea after all. Her friends had dared her to come here. They’d called her weak and scared. She swore she would show them that she was made of tougher stuff than they thought. But standing here, at the end of the mile-long drive, the house gave her pause—squatting here on the edge of the world, nothing but water as far as the eye could see on the other side. She eyed the door and tried to summon her courage. It was Read More …

Liminal Space – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

Etienne paused within the cold-flame-wreathed rift, within this liminal place between realms. Before him lay the Mortal Realm, and behind him, Faerie. He had spent weeks seeking a rift to pass through. He had wandered alone, his body aching with the agony of knife and fire that still wracked each step. His mind aching with the sting of humiliation, desperation, and betrayal. He had endured it all, looking for this passage—this escape. But now, he paused There was nothing for him among the mortals. Not anymore. Not since his beloved Bess had died. Not since the plague that had robbed Read More …

Uh-Huh – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

Elspeth plunked down the last square tile with enthusiasm. “I’m out.” Alerich eyed the pieces, trying to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching into a smile. He waved at the board. “You’re cheating.” Indignation gave her voice an edge. “Am not.” “Elspeth, ‘spong’ is not a word.” “Yes, it is.” “No, it’s really not.” “Yes, it really is.”  She picked at a speck of lint on her blouse. “It’s a potions word.” “Uh-huh.”  Alerich settled back in his chair and took a sip of his bourbon, then motioned at her with the glass.  “Define it.” “A spong is Read More …

Sleight of Hand – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

Winter Mulcahy thought the girl by the necklace rack was maybe eleven, probably twelve. She had a bruise peeking out just beneath the collar of her oversized coat, fingermarks if Winter was any judge, and she was an excellent judge of abuse. The girl was heavy in that way that said weight would follow her throughout her life, but she moved easily through the store, caramel eyes flickering constantly towards Winter from behind too-large glasses. The girl was stealing. That wasn’t unusual, though. Homeless kids often stole from the stores in the Historical District, trying to fill empty pockets and Read More …

Seashells – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted onLeave a comment

The boy was crying under a picnic table, but Winter didn’t know why. He was a lot older than her, six, maybe even seven. She crawled beneath and sat down next to him, not caring that her red and white sundress would get mussed. She’d lost her sandals somewhere but she’d managed to hold on to her red hat. Grandma Bridget said it was important so she didn’t burn in the summer sun. The boy looked up at her, his expression wary, and wiped his face on his coat sleeve. It was peculiar, wearing a suit jacket to a family Read More …