Category: Friday Fragment

#FridayFragment, 26.01.2024

“I’m not very good at that.”

“No,” said the expert, looking up from his close scrutiny of the issue. He raised the magnifying glass and peered through it at the spot on her chin. “No, you are not, are you.”

“On the other hand,” she said, trying not to feel like a lepidopterist’s specimen, “I’m also not very good at about a dozen other things. That ought to count for something, shouldn’t it?”

#FridayFragment, 1.12.2023

SPELLS

“Heddle,” she muttered. “Warp. Weft. Raddle. Warping board. Bobbin. Shuttle. Harness. Shed, reed, ratchet. Sett, castle, breast beam, cloth beam. Heddle, warp and weft.”

“Stop!” he shrieked. “Stop throwing curses at me! And put down that, that, that spell book!”

She glanced up at him with a mild, enquiring look, then closed the book in her lap with a finger pinched between its pages and turned it over to look at the spine.

In gold-imprinted letters it said THE BEGINNING WEAVER.

#FridayFragment: 27.10.2023

It glittered. The corner of the basement glittered. Naila was sure of it this time. She shook her phone to turn on the flashlight and shone it into the corner. The glitter vanished. She turned the light off, and there it was again, glittering like a million tiny, faint stars gathered in the corner of her basement behind the canning shelves.

#FridayFragment: 21.07.2023

I looked at my toes, propped up on the coffee table in front of me. And looked again.

There was a small gnome hiding behind my foot.

I froze.

He peered around my big toe, then darted back to the other side. I could feel his tiny hand as he steadied himself against the side of my little toe, then his pointy cap slowly appeared, followed by his small, round face.

“Hello there!” I whispered.

He blinked his brown eyes at me.

#FridayFragment: 20.01.2023

MAGIC POTION

The first sip tasted revolting. Bitter, burnt. I made a face.

“That’s normal,” he said. “Just keep drinking, it’ll get better.”

I doubted it. The second, third, fourth, and fifth sips were no better. I put the mug back on its coaster.

“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t care how much magic is in this, I don’t think it’s for me.”

He stared at me, his blue eyes wide with astonishment.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “Everyone likes coffee.”

#FridayFragment: 14.10.2022

She had never been quite sure what to make of it. There it sat, on her kitchen table, sparkling up at her in its silent fashion.

“It sure is ugly,” she remarked to the cat, who went on cleaning his back end as if he didn’t care one bit. Which he didn’t.

“I mean, where is it coming from?” she continued. “Every fifth of the month, there it is. On the kitchen table. Shining and sparkling and glittering and, and—just sitting there. I mean, what is it?”

PS: No, I don’t know what it is, either. Do you?

#FridayFragment: 29.04.2022

They came around the corner, and there it was in front of them. The blossom, enormous like a vast bowl, more than six men could span. The soft pink of the petals had a velvet sheen to it; in the centre, the golden richness of the stamens beckoned.

“The Giant Water Lily of Medulisan!” Mardrom breathed, once again exercising his proclivity for stating the obvious.

#FridayFragment: 11.03.2022

She took the lid off the sugar bowl and absentmindedly reached in for a sugar cube. She’d really have to get herself some sugar tongs.

“Oy!” cried an indignant little voice from the bowl. “Do you mind?”

She gave a startled glance into the sugar bowl. A tiny man stared up at her from under a pointy blue hat, clutching a sugar cube in front of him which was unsuccessful at hiding the fact that he was butt naked.

“I beg your pardon!” she said politely. “I didn’t realize you were using my sugar bowl for… for… What are you using it for?”