#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This One is too Hot: Part 2

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt

Clair meanwhile, had drifted to the bookshelf. “They’re bound funny,” she called over to us.

“It’s just leather,” Rebecca said. Her face was red from blowing on the fire, but it was going now and had begun to warm the room.

“No, they’re icky, all crinkly to the touch and slimy. They make you feel weird.”

“Then don’t touch them,” I said.

“But they’re interesting,” Clair replied.

I shrugged and turned to Rebecca, saying, “She’s our daughter, all right.” Rebecca nodded.

“This book is too hard, but you might like this one.” Clair handed me a thick book. On the spine was written “Das Kapital. Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie.”

Clair was right; it made you feel funny: sad, like you were listening to someone crying. For a moment, I thought I heard someone shouting in Russian, followed by a scream.

“And this one is too simple,” Anastasia said, waking me from my daydream. She handed a copy of “Lang’s Blue Fairy Tales” to Rebecca.

I blinked; the room was fuzzy. “Anastasia?” That wasn’t right. I meant Clair. That was my daughter’s name.

Puzzled at my confusion, I watched her walk to the bookshelf again. Her white dress sparkled in the firelight.

She took out a third book. “#Dope! This one is just right,” she said in an odd voice: distant and sinister. She was holding a copy of “Ivanhoe Continued: The Burning of Rebecca.”

“Ah,” Rebecca gasped. I turned, expecting her to object to the “Goldilocks” game again, only she wasn’t there. All that was there was the wall, stove, and blaze in the fireplace, all seen as if in a distorted mirror.

“Mom?” Claire said and walked past me—diamonds draped her snow-white dress—she stopped at the fireplace, gazing at the blaze, which was going nicely, making the air smell faintly of pine smoke. Then I choked as a whiff of burned meat reached me.

Clair screamed, “Mom!” and pointed to the fire.

Wreathed in fire was the image of the woman I loved tied to a stake. The flames licked around her. You could all but her screams. Rebecca. Our Rebecca was there. Ivanhoe’s Rebecca. A witch burning for our sins.

2/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe

#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This One is too Hot: Part 1

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt

Rebecca closed the cabin door, shutting out the winter wind and snow that blew in. Our breath hung in clouds in the still, cold air of the room. We might be trespassing, but it was better than sitting in our stalled car.

I called out again, “Anyone home? Sorry for intruding, but our car broke down, and it’s freezing.”

Again, there was no response. The owners had probably gone to town to avoid the blizzard that was in the forecast.

We really shouldn’t have been on the road, but Grandma had grown tired of us and had hinted, “Thanksgiving is over. Wouldn’t you prefer sleeping in your own beds?”

My girlfriend moved past me to the fireplace. “I’ll light a fire. Why don’t you see if there’s food? We can leave money on the table when we leave to pay for any inconvenience.”

Clair had already begun exploring and called from the door at the far side of the room. “It’s a bedroom with three beds: one big, one small, and one in between. This one is too…”

“Don’t say it,” Rebecca called to her. I wasn’t sure why the joke bothered her so much, but it did. Rebecca had always been the stricter of the two of us and got peeved if I interfered, so I kept silent.

While the two did their thing, I began looking for food. The can on the table proved to be red bean soup made by a Japanese company. I’d always thought a sweet bean drink was weird, but I guessed it was popular. It was funny finding it here in the middle of the Bitterroot Mountains, and I wondered if the owners were Japanese.

A cupboard next to the stove proved more fruitful. There was some cup ramen, tins of diced tomatoes, a package of sun-dried #prunes, and a couple of kilos of rice.

Part 2 in the next post

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe