Category Archives: Liz Rylen

Drabble: My Wall is in a Mood – by Liz Rylen

by specklit

Jennika’s eyes narrowed in grave consternation. The picture her mother had chosen was nice enough, a unicorn in a forest. It was the wall that was the problem.

“The wall doesn’t like it when you put that picture there,” she said.

“Oh Jennika,” her mother sighed. “Walls aren’t alive, remember? It doesn’t care one way or the other. I think it’s you who doesn’t like the picture.”

The wall smirked. Jennika suppressed a sigh of her own, wondering how her mother could be so ridiculously misinformed.

It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered this, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Author’s Note: As a child, I overheard the expression ‘the walls have ears.’ My imagination was sparked for months. I may have named the ones in my bedroom. Not saying I did 😉

Drabble: On A Cold Easter Night – by Liz Rylen

by specklit

Mable pulled the trembling bunny closer to her chest, enough to feel its tiny heart beating. On the floor before them, a piece of rainbow bubbled in a lead cauldron.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy whispered. The bunny, not caring for its cramped position, twisted out of her grasp. It landed in a basket of eggs and darted away covered in magical yolk. Nancy cried out and grabbed for the rabbit, but only managed to knock over the cauldron. Steaming hot rainbow splashed everywhere, scorching fur and flesh alike.

The front door had been left open.

Seeing its chance, the bunny escaped.

Author’s Note: Really, could the Easter Bunny be anything other than a freak magical accident?

Drabble: For Fruit – by Liz Rylen

by specklit

Amlica stood outside of the carefully dilapidated fruit stand. The owner, a squat Renoan by the name of Hedelfish Rightly, ducked his head and wrapped four of his arms together in deference. Amlica picked up what at first appeared to be a withered harrinjus, the speckled apple for which Renos was famous.

She twisted the fruit open, revealing tell-tale pink flesh. “Well?”

Hedelfish unfolded his arms and squinted.

“It’s just not very ripe,” he said. His nostrils flared open, into the position associated with sincerity.

“I don’t think so,” Amlica said. She pulled out her badge. “This stand is closed.”

Author’s Note: When genetic manipulation becomes the norm, I see a future in fruit forgery.

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