Stories

Fair - Chapter 5 The Ladies’ Circle

Nothing in society exceeds the speed of gossip. By the time Lucille arrived to the Council Hall, its usually quiet chambers were buzzing like a beehive. All the ladies were there, a feat that hadn’t happened in decades, and the animated conversation subsided suspiciously upon Lucille’s arrival.

Fair - Chapter 4 Mirror-Mirror

"Why is it wrong, aunt Lucille? What's so wrong about knowing what you look like?" she stared at her aunt, giving the latter the chills.
“Those eyes could keep a person awake at night,” Lucille shuddered, “I can't get used to them, no matter how innocent she is, so help me! She knows, the imp, how could she possibly know?” Lucille looked for a reasonable explanation for the mirror ban, but couldn't come up with anything that stood to reason. The rule had always seemed absurd to her too, but it had never been open to discussion; the council of elders, and council leader Abraham in particular, weren't the kind of people who could be swayed to give up the power and control that came with being the bearers of absolute moral authority. The result of this social dynamic had been that all those who didn't believe mirrors were a wide open door to hell sought their own image if they were lucky enough to find a reflective surface, and said nothing about it, not knowing who to trust. They enjoyed the revelation of their own countenance privately, drew their own conclusions about it and became the wiser for the knowledge. Lucille happened to be one of them.

Fair - Chapter 3 Matching Wits

As predicted, a couple of the most involved members of the ladies' circle showed up at Lucille's door within hours, with appropriately concerned looks on their faces and spelling trouble from a distance. Lucille crushed a few choice words between her teeth and remembered to smile. She sometimes wished that the mores of their society allowed women to express frustration in the same care free and irreverent way men did, but alas, she was a lady, and ladies never lost their composure. She took a deep breath to let irritation settle down, raised her chin and opened the door.
"Rosemary, Giselle, what a pleasure to see you so early! Everything is well, I hope?" she mimicked concern, at the same time managing to point out the etiquette gaffe of showing up at one's house so early in the morning.

Fair - Chapter 2 The Fire Maiden

Mary arrived home before the break of dawn. She tried to make as little noise as possible, knowing full well that she couldn't bypass aunt Lucille's superhuman scrutiny. The old lady had the senses and instincts of a mountain lion. As expected, her great-aunt was waiting for her in the kitchen, seated at the table with a prayer book in one hand and a handkerchief in the other, in order to press the point that her ailing old body had a very hard time coping with Mary's lapses in discipline.
She hadn't been crying, of course, because she secretly felt that at her age she was entitled to the privilege not to, but she liked to display that handkerchief in critical instances, as a symbol of her grave disappointment. The second she saw the dreaded piece of cloth, Mary knew she was in trouble.

Fair - Chapter 1 Mary

"Stop lollygagging, Mary! The world is not going to wait for you to catch up, it's almost sundown!" Mary's great-aunt Lucille scolded her, as it was her habit.
Mary didn't flinch, she knew how difficult it was for people to be around her, and how much gratitude she owed to the one person gracious enough to take her in. The shocked reaction everybody had when they laid eyes on Mary was a never ending source of pain for the young girl and a great inconvenience for her great-aunt, whose neighbors and acquaintances, people whom she'd known for decades, had started avoiding her because of her little charge. Lucille was a self-assured woman who had worked very hard to assert her authority over the Ladies' Circle, the charities group and the church committee, and this kind of snubbing constantly irritated her.

The Plant - A Steampunk Story Epilogue

Jack’s thirst for the interesting and the unusual was never quenched, and since he was so good at making stuff up he decided to put his talents to good use and become a professional liar. A fiction writer, that is. He flirted with journalism for a little bit, but after his own unpalatable experience with revelations and consequences, he decided that this field really wasn’t for him. He did some travel, learned a lot from his journeys, and a few years later, when he had the means, just to put the frustrations of his youth behind him, he bought a piece of land and planted a dome on it, which became his retreat and occasional writing studio. Of course people thought that was odd, but then again, writers get a pass on being eccentric.

The Plant - A Steampunk Story Chapter 20

“On a happier note, how is your life lately?” Richard tried to change the subject, only managing to add more gas on Jack’s emotional pyre.
“I’m in counseling with a child psychologist, thank you for asking. I got to revisit every second of my life, forwards, backwards and out of sequence, I discussed any and all childhood trauma that I might have been subjected to, I looked deep inside myself to find my true feelings and guess what? I can’t share them, ‘cause they’re the ones who unleashed this lovely medical specialty upon my life in the first place. It appears that I’m defective, Richard, and I owe it all to our enchanting adventure. This situation is almost bad enough for me to give up making up stories.” he threw a quick glance in his friend’s direction, to see if the latter would take the bait. Richard didn’t react. “Not!” Jack cracked up. “And how is life treating you, my friend?” he returned the favor.
“Well,” Richard hesitated to answer, trying to get the flavor of bitterness and defeat out of his mouth. Ever since his life had turned sour, he had this strange sensation that everything he ate tasted like ashes. He gathered his courage and continued. “My mother mourns me like I’m dead, and my father decided to behave as if I don’t exist. I’m a ghost with a heartbeat, Jack, quite an interesting experience, to tell you the truth. You like interesting, right?” he retorted sarcastically.

The Plant - A Steampunk Story Chapter 19

“I’m just saying,” Richard gasped, struggling to dislodge a large rock from the middle of the border he was trying to define, a place from which the cursed thing refused to budge. “You know, if our parents wanted to devise a punishment for our creative truth telling, this would probably be it!”
“Don’t mess with karma, dude!” Jack said philosophically, suddenly distracted by the fact that digging got a lot easier than it had been so far, and upon further examination he noticed he was shoveling through soft silt. “This medium is completely worthless!” he cussed under his breath. 
“Just mix it in with clay, I’m sure it’ll be fine!” Richard suggested, wiping his brow.
“And where do I get the clay?” Jack asked, and then, following Richard’s unspoken directions, retorted. “Since when are you the expert in plantings?”
“Since you made me study them. Hey!” Richard suddenly remembered. “Why is karma punishing me? It was your idea!”

The Plant - A Steampunk Story Chapter 18

The rumor about new metallic creatures roaming around in the swamp dome brought agitation and endless discussions in the community. The general hypothesis was that the life entity, or whatever you wanted to call the plant-pipe-dome-wildlife combination, had somehow evolved to create its own species, a thought both worrisome and blasphemous for many of the city’s inhabitants.
Richard’s family members, who had never been anywhere near the swamp dome, and who gathered all the information about the mechanical critters through hearsay, never connected the terrifying description of the crawling pan flutes to the innocent looking weather vane their son had designed. They had been around for enough of Richard’s contraptions to cease finding them scary looking, especially after the two versions of Brenda.

The Plant - A Steampunk Story Chapter 17

The rumor about new metallic creatures roaming around in the swamp dome brought agitation and endless discussions in the community. The general hypothesis was that the life entity, or whatever you wanted to call the plant-pipe-dome-wildlife combination, had somehow evolved to create its own species, a thought both worrisome and blasphemous for many of the city’s inhabitants.