Please reload

Recent Posts

One Page Worlds - Smoke Left Behind

January 29, 2020

1/10
Please reload

Featured Posts

Soda Defense Mechanism

September 26, 2018

A whole world on a single page!

 

The short story morsels of One Page Worlds are flash fiction adventures of all flavors. Every Wednesday will feature a complete story in one page, or the first page of what could be a novel or novelette.

 

Sharing the fun and geekery is the best part of writing! Please tweet or comment with your guesses on what genre, character, and job is central to each tale. Enjoy touring new universes each week with One Page Worlds!

 

* * * * *

 

“I did nothing but my job at the last party,” said the mini-fridge.

 

A witch-pointy slippered and bathrobed-left the bedroom I’d been planning to burgle and crossed to the living room. She yanked open the mini-fridge at the end of a leather sofa, bulblight skittering out into the dim, well-furnished room. Then she addressed the appliance. “Did I spell you to shoot cola in a guest’s face?”

 

Distracted as she was by the vocal appliance, I slipped through the flat’s shadows, past a telly the size of some castles, and into the witch’s bedroom. Cigarette ash and pomegranate pierced my nose when I crossed the jamb. Both ears listened while my eyes guided me round her bed and her carpet made of soiled clothing.

 

From the other room, the fridge scoffed. “He didn’t ask your permission. A simple, ‘Drink, please,’ wouldn’t’ve gone amiss. You ask me, ex-boyfriends behave better.”

 

I stepped on a pillow, reached the witch’s jewelry armoire, and opened it.

 

“This is why I can’t sell you at the shop with the others.” The witch again. “Give me one example of how you behaved like a convenient, modern appliance?”

 

A fridge door flapped open and closed, sounding exasperated. “I served him some revenge.”

 

“I didn’t spell you to regurgitate random movie references either.”

 

Transferring her arrowhead necklace to my pocket, I closed the armoire and padded to the bedroom door. The obsidian arrowhead shimmered. I pocketed it. Sweat prickled up and rolled off one cheek.

 

If she spied me, or if she got hold of my sweat, her magical nonsense might be inescapable. She could even have a pistol.

 

Eyes narrowed, I poked my head round the corner.

 

The witch was still distracted.

 

The fridge wasn’t.

 

The thing ululated. Its door gaped like a maw and something heavy and moist rocketed at me. A soda bottle’s label spiraling toward me was all I saw before blacking out from the pain.

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload

Follow Us