The Better To See You

roger-smapshot-1

 

They were almost at their hotel when they decided to explore one more alley. The afternoon light painted shadows on cracked asphalt and colored the buildings sepia-toned.

How apt, Barbara thought, for an antique shop.

Phrenology skulls stared blankly through incongruous shades. Ancient radios stood amidst forgotten family photographs.

“Shall we check it out?”

Avigdor shuddered. “I feel watched.”

Barbara’s arm hairs raised at the thought. Or was it more? She giggled, a bit too loudly. They wouldn’t, would they? Not all the way here?

Avigdor turned to leave. The neon glasses blinked.

“Won’t you come in?” a skull voiced.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Roger Bultot

Don’t Blink

ccc114

 

“Is he asleep?” Andy’s small head spun toward Elisha’s, but only for a second. The boy did not dare, or couldn’t bear, to look away. What if in the one second that he wasn’t looking, he would miss a blink?

Elisha shook his head, and Andy, eyes already on the ice, felt more than saw the movement. He shuddered in part-awe, part-terror.

The last time they met was in summer, when Uncle Morris and Aunt Samantha came with Elisha for a visit. Andy hadn’t quite believed Elisha’s stories about ponds that swallowed giants and ensnared them under icy waters, leaving them forever blinking at the sky.

The eye, however, proved it.

 “Can he come out?” Andy croaked. His throat felt frozen.

“Not before spring,” Elisha soothed, sated by his younger cousin’s fear and feeling a tad guilty for it. “And you’ll be home and far away from here by then.”

 

 

For Crispina‘s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

 

Doctored

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

 

“I am not dressing up as a doctor!”

Twins or no twins, he’d had it with his sister deciding their costumes. He’d been Prince Charming, Prince Un-Charming (consort to Princess Uglyanna). He’d been Mr. Smee. He’d been a screw (guess who was the screwdriver), a nail (yep, Maya was the hammer), a flower (to her bee). And those were the less embarrassing ones.

“You could be an evil doctor imprisoned by an eviler scientist,” she enticed.

“In your dreams,” he replied.

She grinned. “Or in yours. As in, literally. Tonight.”

 

 

For The Friday Fictioneers Challenge