Dead Things

Shireen hesitated as she opened the front door. For the past few days she’d found something creepy on her porch. Yesterday, two stingerless dead scorpions. The day before, a family of black widows, legs withered and red hourglass bellies pointing to the sky.

Shireen flung open the door, defensive spell and baseball bat ready. A large rattlesnake skull stared back at her. Her entire back prickled as she examined the porch and eaves for more surprises, and then glared out into the yard.

What the fuck. Where was the rest of the rattler?

“Alright, let’s chat. Show yourself.” Shireen waited.

Nothing happened.

She went back into the house, and grabbed yard gloves and a trash bag. Then she went back to the porch, gingerly picked up the rattlesnake head, avoiding its fangs, and tossed it into the bag, and then into the large trash can in her garage.

She washed her hands. Disgusting.

She thought about the likely suspects. Mac, the gargoyle who had recently taken up residence on her roof swore he had nothing to do with it.

She hadn’t broken up with anyone recently. An ex would easily know how much these creatures creeped her out, but the exes who would have done something like this would have left them in her bed, alive. No, something else was going on.

Shireen went to the kitchen. She pulled out a container of orange juice and grabbed two glasses. Then she headed for the porch stoop, sat, and made a show of pouring orange juice. Not a lot of fae creatures could turn down fruit nectar, and she was beginning to think one of them was lurking.

She took a big gulp and smacked her lips dramatically.

“Might I have some,” a small voice said from within the lantana plant in her yard.

“Of course.” Shireen poured juice into the second glass, looking down to hide a triumphant smile.

A scrawny, bat-faced figure the size of a teacup chihuahua stepped out. He wore a brimmed hat and shoes, both made from…snakeskin?

Shireen hadn’t seen a hob in person before, but she’d seen illustrations. Oh, this was about the gargoyle.

He darted a long tongue into the glass.

“So, you’re responsible for the dead things.”

He nodded. “I removed the danger. Am I worthy?”

“For Mac? Probably better than he deserves.”

“Mac said I’d have to prove myself to you before he’d accept me as his hob.” The hob looked down shyly.

Shireen wanted to groan. Damn gargoyle knew the whole time. And now she had a hob courting her.

“I thought your kind didn’t like the desert.”

He shrugged. “I need a gargoyle, a home.”

“Why us?”

The hob looked embarrassed. “I’m not wanted.”

“Because…”

He looked up, defiant. “I kissed a brownie.”

The animosity between brownies and hobs was legendary.

She wasn’t at all sure this was a good idea, but her roses looked amazing and he offered cheap pest control.

“Three month trial.”

He smiled, nose scrunching in.





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Genre: Urban Fantasy
Wordage: skull, prickle
Wordcount: 500

2 comments:

  1. I really, really like this! It's right along the lines of what I love reading. I'm hoping by the cute custom graphic there it means we'll keep seeing more of Shireen. Everything about this clicked with me: the writing style, the content, the descriptions. This is one of my favorite pieces so far! Thanks for sharing :) And if/when there is more Shireen, I can't wait to read~

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  2. Thanks! Yeah, I plan on writing Shireen stories for the months that I have Urban Fantasy. I'd really like to develop her character and some kind of big story for her. And when you click on that icon, it'll take you to all of her stories so far.

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