Umasabirah - These Are The Things That Keep Me Up At Night...

Moonlight rippled unnaturally on the lake as the car rounded the curve to the final stretch of dirt road before we reached the township of Elishire. I appreciated the ride–I knew I would have gotten lost in these twisting country backroads. I already longed for the lights and traffic and pavement of my city.

My name is Mary Ingstaff. I am a marriage consultant. I am here to assist with the marriage of Michelle Springs to Ezekiel Banks. I repeated these sentences like a mantra in an attempt to calm my nerves and stave off homesickness. I normally loved traveling for work, but leaving my own new wife at home put a strain on this trip.

If this job works out, Renee and I will be set for a while, I reassured myself, no more out-of-town gigs, no more flights, no more weird little towns. I looked over at my partner, Jake Stevens, who was somehow dozing with his head resting against the cold window. Aside from his many other talents, he was able to sleep anywhere. I’d always envied this ability.

We’d taken this job because of the pay–the entire township was chipping in for this wedding because of…reasons. Ezekiel Banks basically owned this place, so the townspeople had no choice but to contribute. The recent disappearance of his first wife, Constance–whom he’d supposedly divorced before her extremely convenient exit–had put extra pressure on the town to make this wedding special.

Banks’ very young wife, Michelle Springs, was barely out of high school. Poor Michelle, I thought, there must be rumors. There were always rumors in these small towns...

Horror

Monsters of Elishire

Nothing is as it appears.

From Inside the Room

She awoke, her mind in a fog, trying to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here. Her head was pounding and she was nauseated. Had she been drinking? The last thing she remembered was the café, and the man, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the chill that smile made her feel. She tried to move, and couldn’t determine if she was having difficulty because of whatever she’d had to drink, or for some other reason she wasn’t willing to accept yet. The room was small and dark, but clean. The walls were white and windowless. There was a closed door. She was laying on something fluffy and comfortable, but she needed to pee and could tell she’d been here too long by the ache in her muscles. Struggling to get up again and finding she could not, she slowly craned her head up. It was exactly as she’d feared. Her wrists were tied to the elaborate metal headboard, and her ankles secured to the footboard. She felt her heart rate increase.

The Library, or Back to Before

I want to go to the

Library,

The one that exists only

In my mind

When I was a child

And couldn’t read

Reviews in my hand,

When I had to rely

On my mom to drive,

And I'd wander, until

I found something

That struck me.

I want to return

To a time I was still finding

How to feel,

Before I understood

How I am supposed to think.

The freedom in

Not knowing,

In nothing

Expected.

I yearn for my wonder,

The joy in simple things

Before I learned

How much can be taken

So quickly.

That thrill

Of discovery.

I don’t want to know

The pain of grief, of loss,

I pine for the naïvete

Of before she was

Gone.

I miss the me

Before I knew

What I was capable of

And what I was not.

Take me back

To possibilities

Before life and death

Crushed everything.

New microfiction on Vocal:

Fiction

Clockwork World

The End

reminder to worldbuilders: don't get caught up in things that aren't important to the story you're writing, like plot and characters! instead, try to focus on what readers actually care about: detailed plate tectonics

Calm

The grey-white clouds caress the sky, casting a diffuse light over the comparatively-violent, bright green foliage. The birds are quiet and the bees seem to scramble over the flowers while they still can. There’s a feeling of preparation, an inhale of breath, a calm. A sharp pain in the side of my head speaks to a low pressure spiral. The leaves shiver and dance. It is almost time.

Hazel slashed her borrowed sword through the spiny, overgrown vines, creating a jagged path to the crumbling castle. She was grateful for her secondhand armor–she could hear the thorns scraping angrily against the metal, longing to tear her flesh but unable to gain purchase. She wondered how many knights had failed simply because they could move no further without a steed (surely, no horse would endure the torture of a thousand tangled scratches) or blinded by forgetting to secure the visor of their helmet. Hazel’s visor may have been twisted in spots and rusting in others, but she had ensured it would hold against the terrors of the vines. She was thankful for the months of studying she’d ensured prior to her quest. She’d snuck into her father’s shop to repair her brother's weathered armor as best she could, and she appreciated her efforts had not been in vain.

Hazel was panting by the time she reached the other side of the vines and beheld the castle. She heard rustling behind her and turned to watch the foliage wrapping unnaturally around itself to fill the hole she’d made.

“Well,” she breathed, “that’s unnerving.”

In spite of her misgivings, she moved toward the castle. The keep was surrounded by a moat, and the only access an aging drawbridge that was shut tight. Hazel peered over the edge of the moat. There were no monsters lurking in the murky waters, but if she fell in with full armor, she would quickly sink to her death. She could see the remnants of metal within the muddy depths and glimpsed what may have been a bony arm. The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough.

Undaunted, Hazel pulled her crossbow from her back and checked the knotwork on the rope she'd tied to the bolt. She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled the string back to the catch, loaded the bolt, aimed, and fired. The bolt shot true and lodged itself firmly between two large stones at the top of the wall. Hazel yanked the rope as hard as she could, and when it held, she leaned back with her full weight. The bolt remained solidly in place. She wrapped the rope around her arm. This was a moment of truth–she could walk away now and avoid the possibility of a watery grave, or she could take a literal leap of faith. She closed her eyes and lept...

https://vocal.media/pride/the-knight-s-error