The wind brushed its soft fingers
through her dress, teasing her ankles to move. With an inward smile she
obliged, turning her toes toward the next house. The pale fire in her eyes
glanced upward, flirting with the moon. The countdown had begun.
Mercy rippled down the pavement, wondering
at the glints that didn’t used to be there. Dew,
she thought. A closer inspection proved
otherwise. Glass. Broken glass. She
frowned at it for a moment before turning into the driveway. More shimmers here, unnecessary and
distracting.
She extended her glove in front of
her with a slight gasp of excitement. Extending… extending… her finger
connected with the doorbell and she froze. Mercy let out a squeal of glee and
pushed the little white button. The resounding cacophony of static-like noise
pounded into Mercy’s fragile frame.
“Trick-o-treat!”
An older woman garbed in robes a
foot-and-a-half too short and a flopped over witch cap appeared in the silhouette
of sunshine.
Mercy blinked at the inconsistency.
“Hello?”
“Ah. Yes. Could you perhaps do
something about that repulsive glass in your front yard?”
“Hello?”
Mercy frowned.
“Yes! Right here! Could you please
move the shimmer? It’s quite distracting.”
“Huh. Must of run off…”
The shabby witch woman began the
door’s journey to its initial position.
Mercy swung her foot in the doorway.
The door slammed. She thrust her
face accusingly at the moon as she slid her foot out of the wood. Time’s up. Until next year.
And that’s when the rift between
the world’s sucked her soul back in.
Until
next year…
Does the character name "Mercy" make this a parable at all? This is a great piece of "sudden fiction": accomplishing so much in characterization, situation, and theme in just a moment's prose.
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