#SwiftFicFriday W101 – Vote!

#SwiftFicFriday W101 – Vote!

Another prompt, another round of great stories to choose from. Check the stories out below and vote for your favorite!

The Verdict

Simon wanted to be thankful. It was a lovely feeling, he’d been told, when one could be thankful. He had had a good life. Nothing bad had ever happened to him.

His house had never flooded. His land had never mud-slid away. No one ever entered his home unannounced, except for a squirrel or two.

No one in his narrow immediate family had ever died in an accident.

Well, there was his grandmother on his mother’s side who choked on an unforgiving piece of gristle at thanksgiving three years earlier, but she was quite elderly and most everyone she knew had been surprised she had lived so long.

He watched the results of the trial. He remembered the scene. The smooth-faced young fellow carrying a semiautomatic rifle that was almost as big as he was, walking down the street, the street in turmoil, the night on emotional fire.

Why would a normal young boy do that, walk down the street carrying such a weapon?

Simon was finally thankful for something. He was thankful he lived in a country that would not tolerate such a violent image, would not tolerate such a ludicrous outcome.

195 words by Bill Engleson (@billmelaterplea)

Crossing from the veranda into the entry hall was just like at Kerri’s mansion. Other than being backwards, everything was identical down to the dust and creaking floorboards. Even the furniture was the same.

Mirro ushered Kerri through to her breakfast nook. There was one other critical distinction between Mirro’s mansion and Kerri’s. The tomb-like stillness of Mirro’s home was tranquilly refreshing compared to the creatures and restless dead roaming and moaning through Kerri’s.

“No one’s coming, are they?” Kerri sighed out the window at the empty side yard.

Balancing two teacups on saucers with one hand and pouring from a teapot with the other, Mirro cocked her head thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t suppose so.”

Breathing in the warm spice of her tea, Kerri was glad to be anywhere other than home. Even somewhere so similar.

“Thank you, for having me over.”

“I’m very glad to have you.”

The girls sipped their tea.



Kerri stared into her tea. Mirro was… Odd. But she didn’t treat Kerri like a freak and Kerri found Mirro easier to relate to than any of the creatures in the mansion Kerri’s mother left her.

“I’m really glad you moved here. Do you know how long you’ll stay?”

Mirro smiled airily across her tea with an unfathomable depth to her dark eyes.

“I’ll be here for the rest of your life. Would you like cake?”

Kerri smiled tightly and politely, unsure what to make of that answer. A soft scurrying tapping drew her eyes to the floor where an assortment of severed hands filed into the room on their fingertips like a line of ants. The hands flipped onto their stumps and passed a platter of fudge frosted cake from the kitchen to Mirro.

This was fine. Or, at least, still better than Kerri’s house.

300 words by David A Ludwig (@DavidALudwig)

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