The Hours #1

The trip had seemed like such a good idea when I first suggested it. We five, childhood friends, would take an afternoon and boat on the river. The parson had told me that it was possible to rent rafts so that you did not need to invest so heavily in your leisure. So after making inquiries and placing orders for packaged lunches, I whisked my companions away for a leisurely float through the countryside.

I traveled round, picking up each in turn since my family had a coach large enough to accommodate the lot of us. First was my Mary. She looked stunning and I found my heart racing as she sat beside of me on the bench. Her long blonde hair was pulled up with sparkling pins that made her sparkle like a fairy flitting over the fields. She offered no affection on our meeting, but once the cart was underway and we were beyond her mother’s disapproving glare, she proved as wanton as ever. I would have feared the other’s opinions, but as always, we made ourselves presentable before arriving at the next destination.

Mark was waiting for us at his gate and such was his enthusiasm that he practically leapt onto the bench. As was his way, not a thread nor a hair were out of place. He smiled and chattered the entire way, excited for a chance to avoid learning more of his father’s business.

Samantha, as always, seemed above Mark’s joy as she sat stiff on the opposite bench. She smiled with tight lips, fussing with her hat as we made for our way to pick up our last member. She smoothed her skirts and looked out the windows as she gauged the distance and time left to this leg of our journey. She made a final, furious check of herself when the cart came to a stop, and held her breath as the last of our number crawled in beside her.

Carl greeted us all before putting a tree trunk sized arm around Samantha’s shoulders. The girl changed as rapidly as paper touched to a burning brand. She relaxed and melted to mold herself against Carl’s form. They sat like that, neither ceasing to touch the other, for the rest of the ride.

 

 

 

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Swim

Tommy slipped through the grass, doing his best to be quiet. He moved from behind a stump to a spot behind a thorn bush and then back out into the grass. Each step brought him closer to the water.

The wind was strong, blowing away what little noise he made. It also muffled the sounds of laughing, screaming and splashing from the creek.

Mary Ann’s friends had stayed for the weekend. Her lights burned into the night and he watched her and Sarah braiding each other’s hair. With weather this hot, there was no way that they wouldn’t have come down to the swimming hole.

Thirty more slow, careful step and Tommy settled in behind a multiflora rose bush that was almost as big as Mary Ann’s Beetle. He used a stick to move the thorny branches, pushing a few of them down to open a window through the bush.

The girls were there. On the rocks beside the creek, each of the four had placed a neat pile of cloths. His eyes widened as he watched his babysitter and her friends splashing each other. For a boy of his age, this was a dream come true.

He was so focused on them, that he didn’t hear the crunch of a heavy step behind him.

Dwellers

When I walked into the room the light switch didn’t work. I didn’t think anything of it. Maybe the bulb had burned out. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked the flash light on.

In the light of that little led, my world changed.

I had never seen them before. I hadn’t thought about the ones dwelling in the dark since I was a child. I can remember believing they were there, but when my father turned the lights on, the room was always empty. I believed him when he said they weren’t real.

As they sat there, bouncing up and down on long, slender legs, I realized what they were.

More than the dwellers.

More than monsters.

They were hungry.

And I was alone in the house.

Ivory

The making of a magical item is always a process. While some like to say that magic is a subtle science, I know that it is truly nothing but an art. We bring together the unrelated and in doing so, make something new that can change the world. It is an art and I am proud to be one of the sculptors.

The guy on my table is some sort of celebrity. I think he might be the new weather man, but I really don’t know. For my purposes, all I needed was to hear him bragging in the bar about how those are his real teeth. The girl was impressed. She went to the bathroom to remove her panties and then drag him outside. He was in for a wild evening.

Now he is screaming despite the gag forcing his mouth open. If he doesn’t stop soon, I will have to cut out his tongue so that I can concentrate on my work.

It will all be worth it though. Nobody has made a cup out of human ivory in years. The enchantments will take months, but when I’m done I’ll have half of what I need for potions of youth.

Unfortunately for the weather man, he has to be awake when I extract the ivory. Poor sod.