Monthly Archives: October 2015

Drabble: Dry Spell – by D.J. Kozlowski

by specklit

The people thought if they believed hard enough, it would rain. They asked her, wished it of her, begged her for it. Although Melinda the healer couldn’t make the skies open, she happily took the credit when it finally poured. But only that one time.

As the next drought persisted, they prepared the stake with plenty of kindling and sun-baked, dry wood. If the witch couldn’t make it rain this time, maybe sacrificing her would.

A slight bit of minor magic later, Melinda escaped with a singed ego and a newfound humility. She would do better in the next town.

Author’s Note: Melinda is a character I’ve visited in my other writing. She’s referred to as a witch by the townsfolk, but I think she’d balk at the label. This is the first time I’ve looked into her early days as a wandering whatever-she-is.


Drabble: An Apple for Beauty – by Tiffany McCarroll

by specklit

If Dina could rid herself of one more poison apple, she could go home. She waited for the right moment. Then she yelped as she threw herself to one side of the weedy path. Down she tumbled, honey crisps and granny smiths parading out of the basket all about her.

“Hello?” the fairest maiden called from farther up the forest path. “Is somebody out there?”

“Down here!”

The maiden came running at once. “Goodness! Are you all right?”

Dina grinned. “Oh… yes, thanks. Care for an enchanted apple, my pretty?”

The maiden smiled. Finally, Dina would meet her monthly quota.

Author’s Note: Driven mad by maidens fairer than herself, a wicked enchantress became a serial apple poisoner.


Drabble: Blame Mr. Whiskers – by Dionne Obeso

by specklit

“Have you tried knocking over her lamp?”

“Yes.” Chris sighed.

“Turning off her alarm?”

“Yes, obviously.”

Adrian huffed. “Well, have you tried hiding her left shoe?”

“Several times.”

Chris and his haunting consultant pondered Denise’s sleeping form. She’d walked away clean from the crash that’d killed him, and Chris had vowed never to give her a moment’s peace. Problem was, she laid the blame elsewhere no matter how many times he scooped soil out of her potted plants or switched off her coffee maker.

“Sorry,” the consultant said sadly. “There’s no good haunting that can’t be pinned on the cat.”

Author’s Note: Heaven knows I blame everything on MY cat.


Drabble: Making Candy Apples from Grandma’s Recipe – by Anna Salonen

by specklit

They were the best candy apples I had ever made, glossy and black, dipped in chopped pistachios and edible glitter. Mikey peeled one off the cookie sheet and bit into it. It took him a few tries to crack the caramel. He gave me a gruesome, black-and-green grin.

Mom turned one over in her hand, frowning. “These look different. Which recipe did you use?”

I handed her the parchment paper covered in Grandma’s spidery handwriting.

Mom dropped the note and looked at my brother. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

“Mom, what?”

With a loud pop, Mikey turned into a toad.

Author’s Note: Candy apples always look magical to me.


Drabble: Downriver – by Devin Miller

by specklit

The two boys on the raft watched the shorelines fly by.

“We’ve never been this far,” Kendall said.

“I have,” Jaimie replied, “and there’s something I want to show you.”

A dilapidated shack came into view around a bend. Wispy smoke from the chimney; green light blazing through a window. “A wizard lives here,” Jaimie whispered, eyes hungry.

“We should go back.” Kendall grabbed the oar.

“I’m never going back.” Jaimie jumped in and swam to shore. Kendall watched him approach the shack, dripping river water. The door opened—a flash—and the raft carried Kendall out of sight downriver.

Author’s Note: I had Huck Finn on my mind writing this story. I think a wizard would have spiced up that tale a bit.


Drabble: The Spell – by Josh Brown

by specklit

Clara entered the bedroom. It was slightly hazy and smelled of sandalwood.

“What took so long?” asked Rae.

“Did you get it?” asked Becky.

“I got it,” Clara said, holding up a small brown paper bag. “Had some trouble with the crow’s beak, but I eventually managed to find some.”

Becky snatched the bag from her, and emptied the contents into a brass bowl.

“You sure this is going to work?” asked Clara.

It’ll work,” said Becky. “We just need one last ingredient.”

“Yeah?” said Clara. “What’s that?”

Before she could react, Rea plunged a dagger into her chest.

“You.”

Author’s Note: When teenage games go too far.


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