“I plotted everything to the minutest details. I knew every player involved. Their reactions. Their thought processes. Their abilities. Everything.”

Essie stood at the graveside as people drifted past her knowing very few grieved. No, most had come to gawk one last time at the village’s notorious ne’er-do-well.

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction. Prince Jacob stood in the gallery ignoring the slow creep of the sunlight’s angel through the window as he stared at the painting. For the past hours he’d tried to tease out her expression. “Jacob,” the ever-nervous voice of Nathan, his…

Panting, Silfie skidded to a halt at the clearing’s edge. Eldress Arior still stood at the center of the clearing, next to the numina fountain. Only two others remained in line, and Enrem stood beside the Eldress.

“In this age of laughter, a jester is king.” Rakelkie lounged on the throne as he spoke, twirling a crown about two of his fingers.

Zave rubbed his temples viewing the disarray belongings left in the wake of his frenzied search. Frenzied and unfruitful. He hadn’t found his garb and the festival began soon.

After a lifetime spent watching, dodging, or joining in Marieri’s adventures, I knew better equipped than most how to handle her spirits. Still, on that rainy night, the evil glint in her eye was disconcerting.

The old crone Eanswid scowled as she surveyed the wreck I’d left of her kitchen as bisque dripped from my hair. I couldn’t explain the soup exploding and clutched the wooden spoon as if it were a shield defending me against her displeasure. Or most likely, some new hex she’d cast to vex my existence further.

The door abruptly swung open, crashing into the wall once. Myral glanced up. Fathen held the door in place with one hand. The other he’d pressed over his heart as he stared at her with wide-eyed shock.