Hell Hath No Strength Like a Woman Scorned_The Chosen One_Antientropic Artifact: Plastic Doll's
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Hell Hath No Strength Like a Woman Scorned
[Content warning: Strong language, alcohol use]She stood outside her apartment door, hesitating to go inside. It was a Friday evening and she was all dressed up. Why not pop down to the pub down the road? No, she told herself, and put her key in the door. She was angry, and angry Elise made stupid decisions. Better to stay inside until she calmed down.Another Tinder date, another night being stood up. Last week at Sunday dinner, her brother - eight years older and happily married - and her parents had marvelled at how often she got stood up. “In my day, you might have known one person in your ...
The Chosen One
“We’re running out of time. You gotta help me, Hallie.”Gary has me cornered in my kitchen, his eyes wild. For the first time since I can remember, Gary isn’t drunk. This concerns me more than anything else at the moment.“Help you how?” I step backwards so I’m closer to my knife rack. Just in case he gets closer. I don’t like to be touched.“Everyone expects me to fix the world.” He sits heavily in one of my kitchen chairs, his stupid starred jacket catching on the rattan. “I don’t know what to do!”I cock my eyebrow and pick up a cleaver as quietly as possible. “But you fulfilled the pro...
Antientropic Artifact: Plastic Doll's Head, Found Third Millennium B. C. E.
Neela was getting bored watching the pigs when she looked down and saw lying against a stone, a thing with colors different from any she had ever seen. She hesitated; new things could be dangerous. It seemed harmless. It didn’t move and looked soft and smooth.Neela bent down and closed her left fist around it. She straightened up and brought it near her face to examine it more closely. It was abwww.onedoor.ccout the size of a nut and resembled the head of a woman, a young woman like herself. It was probably a goddess but different from any others she had seen. The people who shared her fire ha...
The Misdemeanours Between Two 17-year-olds and A Library
“May I help you?”I startled slightly, swivelling around to face the deep voice that addressed me. I come face to face – or rather, face to chest – with a guy. He might’ve been around my age, about 17 or a bit older, with black mussed-up hair and tired eyes.“I’m looking for the librarian,” I say meekly, hiding behind a curtain of my hair.His eyes lit up, apparently amused. “Never seen a librarian so young, have you?”His taunting tone grated my nerves, and I grimaced.“I was hoping to find someone that fits the description, you know? Maybe an old woman with white hair and pantyhose?” I rolled my...