The Confabulator Cafe

Category: Confabulation

  • The Shadow Thief

    Their feet came down on creaking floorboards. Broken glass, from their clumsy break-in, scattered across the floor and crunched under foot. Screeches echoed through the corridor and pierced through Philippa’s body until her blood ran cold.

    “Here! In here,” Jensen shouted above the noise and grabbed her arm and yanked her into a room with a large, heavy wooden door and thick, patterned carpet. Whitney stumbled in behind them and slid down the wall.

    It wasn’t total reprieve from the noise, but almost.

    “So, banshees?” Jensen asked, turning away from the door and looking to Philippa with one eyebrow raised.

    Banshees had been her first guess as well, but now that she could gather her wits, hear her own thoughts through the unnatural screaming coming from somewhere inside the house, she wasn’t so sure. “Where’s the stench? The roost,” She asked, sweeping her arm across the room. “Where are the victims? No, it’s something else.”

    “Specters are known to howl. Some tribes and gypsy colonies have described it as a kind of singing,” Whitney chimed in, standing and walking over to the other two.

    “Sound like singing to you?” Jensen asked, then let out a breath. His exasperation was clear in his expression.”What are we dealing with here?” He wiped his sleeve across his forehead and knelt to the carpet, setting his bag in front of him. He dug out a small, leather-bound journal and flipped through it.

    “Look for a history of specters here. Or maybe it’s just a ghost. A really vocal ghost.”

    “There’s nothing on this area at all,” Whitney chimed in.

    “If it’s a ghost, there’s one way to tell for sure,” Jensen said, stuffing the journal back into his bag and standing.

    “We need salt,” Philippa said. (more…)

  • Morning Girl

    “Hey, did you see where – never mind, found it.”  He continued the bustle of the morning, each morning was the same.  Wake up just a bit later than he should and live in shame of her sad look down at him.  She was always awake in the mornings and reminded him too often that he should be up and doing more.

    “You sleep through the morning you miss half the day.”  She said that the very first time they had ever spent the night together.

    “Come on, the day is upon us.”  He wiped sleep from his eyes and jumped from the bed, eager to follow this glorious soul into the morning.  She was vibrant and alive, and she drew him in like the proverbial moth to the flame.  Sometimes people click together, and though he may not have put it to words, looking back, even now in the beginnings of middle age he could not help but to feel the same burst of love he felt even on that first morning. (more…)

  • Maybe While I’m Asleep

    Once upon a time, the story of Sleeping Beauty ruined my life.

    I get that the fairy was just trying to do a good thing, making the entire kingdom fall asleep while the princess was cursed so she wouldn’t have to wake up alone, but leave it to royalty to never consider the little guy. You think the scullery maid was pleased to find that a century had passed her by, while the stable boy she loved was out in the country on an errand when the spell came down? He was long dead by the time the spell was broken.

    Not to mention, when it became known that such a spell was possible, there was an explosion of copycats. Again, I’m sure some of those sprung from noble intentions. Maybe in some cases, it was for the best, and ended up fine for everyone.

    Not so much for me.

    The spell has been cast, and pretty soon, there will be no staying awake in this house. This isn’t going to end well for me. (more…)

  • The Promise of Running Water

    The aged wood creaked beneath Tasha’s feet as she peered through the dusty windowpane into the dark interior. Nothing. This was the last window she could check and she hadn’t seen even the slightest sign of life. Either it really was abandoned or they were hiding out upstairs. She retreated to the steps of the porch and beckoned. A dusky skinned woman appeared from the woods and moments later a boy’s head peeked out around her waist. Their clothes were filthy and most of their skin was caked in dirt. Tasha knew she looked no better.

    “Looks clear. We’ll need to complete a room by room search when we enter, but it should be safe for the night. If we’re lucky, there will be running water.”

    “If we’re lucky, there will be food stores,” Leesha said. She drew a pistol from her waistband. “Is the door unlocked?”

    “In a moment.” Tasha knelt at the door and slid two thin wires into the lock. “Give me a hand, Rupe?” At her signal, the boy twisted the knob and she shouldered open the door. The wires disappeared into her wristband and she drew her own pistol. “Stay close.”

    Staircase, closet, three rooms to choose from. She started with the closet. Nothing in there. “Get inside. The usual knock. If you hear any other pattern or if somebody opens the door—”

    “I’ll shoot them.” (more…)

  • The Workers’ Tower

    İlkay kept watch long after the workers had retreated to their bed pods for the night. At fifteen, she could afford to stay up all night without it affecting her domestic work in the tower. The men and women needed their strength to survive their work assignments.

    She sat on the threadbare cushion her mama had made years ago, the yellow fabric faded to a dingy brown; it didn’t lessen the ache in her spine, but it brought her some comfort to have it with her. Her papa’s quilt protected her body from the icy wind, but keeping her hands out to hold the gun made her fingertips numb.

    Her papa had set the gun in her lap and whispered, “There are no bullets, little bird, but don’t let anyone know that.”

    * * *

    The moon was bright and high that night, and the wind blew brutal, whistling a high tune through the rafters. The netting that the workers had placed over the metal bones of their tower had blown away less than hour after İlkay’s watch began.

    The moonlight highlighted the man’s figure against the rafters, his clothing dark and his face obscured by a hood. He fiddled at the joints of the metal, pulling items from a sack slung over one shoulder.

    Practicing the movements like her papa taught her, İlkay shifted up onto one knee and braced the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. The blanket fell open around her as she pointed it at the man, the wind cutting through her clothes. “Stop.”

    (more…)

  • The Stork’s Feather

    The fortune teller studied the side of my palm. Her slender fingers traced the lines of my calloused hand, turning it this way and that to catch the light. I kept my eyes off of her, concentrating on the colorful tapestries on the wall. I knew what she was looking for. And I already knew what she would find.

    “You’ll never have any children,” she said.

    “I know,” I replied.

    Those lines had been scraped off of the side of my hand years ago. She must have seen the half line. The faint, broken line that signified my unborn child. She was tactful not to mention it. Most practitioners loved to bring it up. They liked to play it up to prove that they knew their business. But she sounded like she was giving me the specials. ‘You’ll never have kids, oh and the soup of the day is broccoli cheese.’ She didn’t even sound sad about it.

    “It doesn’t have to be this way if you don’t want it,” the woman said. (more…)

  • The Cow of Cthulhu

    On the morning of the unfathomable event, I, Robert Joseph Edgerton III, was awaken from a fitful slumber by a heavy knock upon my bed chamber door.

    “Bobby Joe,” my mother said. “You’d best get out of that bed and get to breakfast. Those chores ain’t gonna to do themselves.”

    I wiped a crust of sleep from the corner of my eye. My faithful feline companion Applejack stretched and then leapt from my feather-stuffed mattress. Applejack and I had spent my sleeping hours exploring the Dreamlands city of Ulthar, using sleep techniques promoted by my renowned professors. My feline guide had escorted me on a tour of the legendary village where no man may kill a cat. (more…)

  • The Cat Came Back

    My cell phone rang at two minutes of four in the morning. I swiped my thumb across the green ‘answer’ button, put the phone to my ear and grunted.
    “Meow?” came the reply. It was my cat.
    “Waffles?” I cleared my throat and sat up. I hadn’t heard from my cat in two months.
    “Meow.” She sounded sad and exhausted and I could guess why. She’d gotten herself a job and apparently she was—predictably—in over her head.
    “You’re not going to try to tough it out?” It was kind of cruel of me to string her along. We both knew she couldn’t handle this.
    “Meow.” It was a long, drawn out meow. Almost like back in the days when she still lived with me and her food bowl wasn’t entirely full and she desperately needed me to cover the entire bottom of the dish with kibble.
    “Okay, okay. I’ll be there by tomorrow.” I hung up. I hadn’t said ‘I told you so.’
    *** (more…)

  • Home in Time for Cake

    Captain Sydlak glanced in the mirror to make sure every thread and decoration in her uniform was crisp and perfect before going to greet her passengers. Her Majesty’s Post and Courier Service expected every detail to be shipshape and Captain Sydlak was proud of her ship and crew.

    She twitched her cap firmly into place and made her way down the short passage. Jovillar, the ship’s steward, was already there with the latest manifest.

    “Only six passengers this trip, Captain,” Jovillar reported.

    “Welcome to the HMS Whitechapel,” Captain Sydlak greeted each passenger as they boarded. “Our next stop is Faraway Station. Steward Jovillar will help you with your luggage.” The last passenger smiled nervously, clutching a very large teddy bear.

    “How sweet!” Sydlak exclaimed, hoping to put the woman at ease.

    “It’s for my daughter,” the woman explained. “Her birthday is tomorrow. I promised her I would be there.”

    “We’ll be certain of it,” the Captain reassured her. “The Royal Post and Courier pride ourselves on getting our passengers and cargo to their destinations safely and on time.” (more…)

  • Autumn’s Fall

    Flutter shivered as the cold north wind blew a handful of red leaves past her and whipped them out of sight. The Heart Tree had already lost so many of its leaves. It couldn’t have many left. Would she reach it before the last one fell?

    The gonging of a bell, deep and resonate, announced another leaf had gone. She quickened her pace, curling her useless wings around her to ward off the chill. She had to get to the red oak at the center of the city.

    The corn stalks that circled the city, dead and barren from the early frost, were bent at awkward angles from the wind. She wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or if a figure stood among them, watching her. She glanced nervously over her shoulder and jumped as stalks cracked behind her.

    She broke into a run, dry laughter—or was it only the wind?—at her heels.

    Once she was past the city wall, she put her hands on her knees and panted, trying to catch her breath. Not that she was safe. Far from it. Everything in this city would try to stop her on her quest. (more…)