A collection of flash fiction works.
Each story is a stand-alone, unrelated to the next and always less than 1000 words.
A mixture of genres, but most works contain speculative elements.
Some stories may contain swearing or mentions of blood/viole...
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The bowl of salt in my hands trembles as I clutch it tighter. "Willow, this is insane."
She ignores me, cupping her hand and cradling a fragile flame on a match-tip as she lights the final candle.
"There's a reason Mum keeps this locked away," I say, lifting my eyes to the mirror. The dancing glow of the candles at its base seems to give the reflection more depth than is in the room. I suddenly feel dizzy, like I'm standing atop a high-rise looking straight down.
Willow turns and grins, coming over to grab my hand. "Mum has a habit of thinking we can't handle bigger spells," she says, taking the salt and leading me over to her line of candles.
Disorientation rolls off the glass like an aura, and now that I'm closer, the vertigo intensifies. My vision swims, twisting the ornate carvings on the frame into spidery markings—while our reflections remain stable.
I can feel its power and it scares me. The way Willow is scaring me. She's locked eyes with her reflection and is staring at herself with a hungry intensity that makes my stomach roil.
Only, it's not her stare that's making me sick. I'm at the wrong angle to see her face, I can only see her reflection.
She reaches a hand out to the glass, forgetting entirely she is holding the bowl of salt—and tiny white crystals freckle the carpet.
"Willow." I intercept her outstretched hand and curl it firmly into mine. "I know what you're doing," I say, glaring into her reflection while I guide us a few paces back.
"What do you mean?" she replies, her head cocking to one side, eyes still fixed on the glass. A dazed smile plays on the lips of my sister beside me, but a predatory one curves her mouth in the mirror. "I was just admiring myself."
Dread trickles into my gut as her reflection and I stare at each other. In my peripheral I can see my own reflection holding Willow's, embracing just as we are, but I don't dare look at myself.
"What do you want?" I ask the Willow in the mirror. When she answers, a shiver crawls down my spine. I could swear Willow's voice carries from both the girl in my arms and the one in the mirror—a droning harmony.
"What I've always wanted," they say, pausing as their expression settles into deep concentration. Suddenly, Willow jerks out of my arms, her head snapping to attention, staring into her own eyes as though she is looking down the barrel of a gun.
"Willow?" I reach for her hand, but she swats me away. An unnaturally sharp grin begins to bend her lips, a tiny helpless sound creeping out from between them.
My scream lodges in my throat, stuck under the ache of tears too terrified to leave my eyes. "Let her go," I choke out around the knot. "Just tell me what you want and let her go!"
My own reflection stirs, moving with disconcerting independence. I catch my own gaze in the mirror and feel a tingling paralysis creep through my limbs. Willow's smile widens as her pointed lips carve out her next words.
