Moira turned the knob on the dashboard, silencing the radio. She sat quiet for a minute, listening. Funny. She could’ve sworn she’d heard something. She shrugged and leaned back in the passenger seat, singing a little under her breath. Dad was taking forever. How long did it take to pay for the gas and grab a soda?
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“Five minutes to midnight, folks!” I called out, my voice echoing in the grand workshop. “Get your lists ready and stretch those fingers. It’s going to be a wild ride!”
Black Friday was nearly the busiest day of the year, second only to Christmas. As Head Elf of the Technology Department, I had transformed
Dion isn’t yet twenty-four hours old, and he’s causing more problems in real life than he does in my story.
The six-foot-six holographic Atlantean warrior snorts, scanning the conference crowd. “These posers reek of weak character arcs and chosen-one tropes.”
“That’s rude,” I whisper.
“This place is crawling with tropes.” Dion points at people
“It’s hopeless,” I moaned to the windowpane.
Rain trickled down outside, like the glass was sobbing sympathetically. A small comfort, but I didn’t really want company in my misery. What I needed was time and inspiration. The window could give neither.
I’d tried using it for inspiration already, but there’s usually a severe lack of windows in dungeon cells.
Announcing the winners of the “Remember July” flash fiction contest!
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I snap my fingers, and the broom leaps from a corner and dances about the room. It sweeps up candy wrappers and stray autumn leaves that had floated into the shop throughout the day.
And what a glorious November day it has been!
My knees creak like an old floorboard as I sit on
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