Archive - September 2019
The end of the month and our 1970s jukebox is quickly approaching. Get your final guesses in by October 3rd for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card! Without further ado, here are the songs that inspired September’s stories so far… at least, the ones that have been guessed! To Con a WerewolfRead it now
Lucy landed on the cottage roof and folded her gossamer wings. She clasped her hands together and gazed at the sliver of moon shining like a scimitar above the quiet village. Tonight was her first solo mission. After months of training, she would fight the darkness and earn her Weaver name.Read it now
An unkempt and rather grisly-looking man slumped in a chair with the computer screen reflecting off his glasses. His elongated fingers began to type furiously at the keys as the clock mocked him with how little time was left.
I’m sorry. It’s cold here, the food is bland, even the wind feels listless.
Since the last werewolf outbreak twenty years ago, sightings of the unpleasant beasts have become blessedly rare. So, it was a surprise to find one lounging in our new neighbor’s yard.
Two other canids lounged around, too: a mutt the size and color of a dirty mop, and a sleepy bloodhound.
“Whoever’s stealing from this factory won’t get away with it!” The accountant slammed his palm on his desk. A small mountain of spreadsheets fluttered to the floor.
I raised an eyebrow and sketched a hissing cat on my notepad.
“Now, Pete, calm down,” the foreman soothed.
“I am calm!” Spittle flew from Pete’s mouth.
You’ve been wondering. You’ve been guessing. Or you’ve been stumped and need a hint! Without further ado, here are the songs that inspired September’s stories so far… at least, the ones that have been guessed! To Con a Werewolf by Kristiana Y. Sfirlea – Werewolves of London (sophiahansen) The Devil Tries Again by R.F. GammonRead it now
If Brandy heard one more person tell her what a good wife she would be, she was going to drown a sailor.
She heaved a deep breath as she twisted her silver locket around her fingers and walked down the dark cobblestone streets. It was a paltry trinket, certainly not a token of love, though it had been given to her by the man she loved.
“Do you really think this’ll work?” It hurt to ask the words, but I had to know.
“You designed airplanes. If anyone can pull this off…” My wife Stella patted the side of the hulking drone, the result of a month’s hard work. An arm-length sewing needle rested against her shoulder, the thick steel dwarfing her long, delicate fingers.
I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.
“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.
She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”
“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”
“That explains your rude surprise.