Flash Fictions: Winds & Whimsy

Doghouse

After forgetting Mother’s Day, Pop was in the doghouse.

“Mom’s being a real witch about this,” I frown.

He sighs as a Bluetick Hound. “At least the potion only lasts a day.”

“Good,” I say, wiggling a vial. “Because I put some in her coffee!”

There’s a bay from the kitchen.

Journal Entry

“May 12th, 1870,” he writes. “At a depth of ninety-nine fathoms, I’m hallucinating from oceanic pressures…”

The mermaid child sits half out of the water portal at the bottom of the driving bell. She reaches for a brass valve. “Ooh!”

“Don’t touch that!” he warns.

Torches and Pitchforks

A horde of peasants surrounded the pair.

“I am not a münster!” the cheese golem yelled.

The circle of pitchforks and torches, stopped.

He gestured to his vegetative companion. “And he is a Human Bean!”

The village collectively groaned, then made enchiladas.

Guardians of Faith

“The storm will be here soon,” John Horse says. “Great orenda. Here, take this.”

He offers me a rain poncho.

“Do your traditions prepare you to face monsters?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Does Celtic reconstructionism teach you how to swing that sword of Cú Chulainn?”

South of Vardø, 1943

A giant of ice approaches the portal as Nazi scientists and Quisling collaborators kept the invention running.

Knut lowers his binoculars. “I can’t stop a jötunn!”

The Norwegian commando looks to the hammer he had found. “Unless…”

Mjölnir glows.