The Worst Disappearance [FICTION]

“Thanks, mom.” Jimmy’s grin, minus his two front teeth, is everything I needed for my efforts to find the perfect birthday gift.

I have long since outgrown the wonder of magic tricks, but he still has that look of wonder in his eyes when someone picks his card or produces a coin from behind his ear. Anyone but me, that is. My slow fingers always bumble every trick I try, so I leave that to my husband. I glance over to see him staring as intently as our son at the closed curtains. I shake my head a little, wishing I could still catch hold of that wonder. For now, I content myself to borrow some of their wonder.

After a few simple card tricks, the Amazing Max moves on to giant metal rings. Having explored the secrets behind the magic of most of these as a teenager, I remain impassive, only smiling in response to Jimmy’s exhilarated enthusiasm. 

“And this is the moment that separates one lucky audience member form the rest,” he intones with a flourish. “So who will it be?”

Jimmy leaps to his feet and the magician’s eyes fall on him as I put my hand on his shoulder. “Please sit down, honey.”

“Let the boy have some fun.” My husband whispers to me.

I frown at him but slowly pull my hand back as the magician steps toward us with his cane extended.

“A young magician wants to help show us what true magic is.” He booms as he steps forward to extend a hand to my son.

As I reach out again to hold him back, my husband wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay, hon, let the kid have some fun.”

I let him pull me into his arms and hold me tight. Jimmy takes the magician’s hand and steps toward the stage. I watch anxiously. I can’t hear any of the presentation as my eyes focus on my son and I struggle to distract my mind from the tension building in my gut. 

I inhale sharply as he draws the curtain across the front of the Closet of Invisibility. I don’t start breathing again when it opens to reveal a now empty cabinet. My husband’s arms tighten around me.

“This is the way the trick works.” He hisses in my ear before giving me a peck on the cheek. “Just wait.”

I nod my head, tuning my ears back into the magician’s rhetoric. “And now, I shall make the young magician rejoin us. Abracadabra.” He spreads out the last word for emphasis before pulling back the curtain.

I start breathing again, but the ragged breaths border on a panic attack as I look into the still empty closet. “James?!?!” I turn to my husband as he releases me from his embrace and stands up.

He doesn’t answer. Instead he takes ten long strides to the stage. I am right on his heels as they pound the gleaming hardwood. The magician turns to us, eyes wide. His eyes seek out the stage manager, who pulls the curtains closed, blocking our view of the obviously flustered magician and his assistant whose face shows both worry and terror as they disappear behind yards of heavy red velvet. My husband heads toward the stage manager, holding out his hand to suggest I should stay where I am.

Undeterred, I fight may way through the heavy fabric. On the other side, the magician and his assistant flee toward opposite ends of the stage, peering into the shadows. I place my hand over my heart, trying to sooth myself with its rhythmic beating. I close my eyes and listen to their footsteps.

“James.” I call out as I slowly open my eyes.

The magician and his assistant both turn toward me, glaring daggers. Then they remember they just lost my son and turn their eyes back to the floor without a word.

“That’s right. Don’t glare at me.” I mumble under my breath

Soft giggling reaches my ears from the back of stage. The tension on my heart releases as I step through the curtain again. I follow the soft sound until my feet bring me to the curtain at the back of the stage. A small hand reaches out to pat my shoe. I sink to my knees, lifting the heavy curtain until I see my son’s mischievous face.

He laughs as he launches himself into my arms and the tears I have been holding back finally break free and course down my cheeks.

~~~Hope this little bit of a mother’s terror was worth the wait. It has been a long week. Longer for some I love than for me. Feel free to offer up extra prayers for those you love. They probably need it.~~~

Dusted [FICTION]

Time to dust off what terrifies us and open those shades to let in the maddening light of the full moon...

Fanny glanced up from her chemistry book as Kit enters the room. The slight smile formed by sudden understanding disappeared as her eyes rested on the worn, blue duster in her roommate's hand.

"I've told you not to do that while I'm home. It sets off my allergies." 

"Are you planning to go out today?" Kit smiled and shook the duster encouragingly.

"I haven't decided yet." Fanny reached for the tissues with her eyes fixed intently on the dust dancing off the end of the duster.

"Alright." Kit sighed and disappeared back into her room.

Fanny returned her attention to her book. She didn't look up when Kit noisily made her exit a few minutes later. She continued to focus on her studies, slowly turning the pages as if nothing else existed by elements and molecules. As the shadows crawled across the floor, her eyes drooped. The battle ended, her eyes closed, and the book slid to the floor. The shadows continued to crawl across the ratty carpet as Fanny snored lightly.

Fanny jolted awake, staring wide-eyed into the darkness in search of the alarm that pulled her from dreamland. Only the red light on the television broke the darkness of the room. A soft glow seeped through the light curtains from outside. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, a movement under the couch caught her eye.

The chemistry book dug into her knee as she slid to the floor and leaned forward for a better look. As her palms touched the floor, the movement stopped. She leaned closer. Without the motion, she couldn't discern anything under the couch. Crawling on her hands and knees she warily approached until her forehead bumped against the rough, floral upholstery.

"There's nothing there." She said loudly to reassure herself.

The breath that chased her words disturbed something under the couch. She squinted as a dust bunny floated back to the dark carpet and came to rest. She stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. With one last glance under the couch, she slowly pushed herself back until she sat cross-legged on the floor. She waited.

She caught more movement out of the corner of her eye. This time, the bodies stayed in motion when her eyes rested on her. A swarm of dust bunnies rolled out from under the couch. As they drew closer, she noticed little legs and tiny arms. Those wispy arms seemed to wave in a formation until they all pointed at her. A wispy voice like an imagined whisper on the wind filled the air.

"You should have let her whisk us away."

Fanny's mouth dried out in an instant. Her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She pushed herself up from the floor. The dust bunnies continued to approach. The closer they got, the more detail caught her attention. Rows of tiny, sharp teeth sprouted at random on malformed bodies. Dark spots could be eyes or tumors. Fanny shuddered and looked away.

As her eyes turned toward the ceiling, she noticed more dust bunnies dancing along the blades of the ceiling fan. Encouraged by her attention, they began to leap from their high perch.

They floated gracefully to land on Fanny's face. She tried to scream but, as they landed, they swarmed over her mouth, effectively smothering her cries for help. She coughed. She sneezed. She swatted at the dust bunnies as more and more of them appeared from under every piece of furniture or leaped from on high. The pressure of her hands forced them together, creating larger dust bunnies that laughed and nibbled at her flesh. Soon, Fanny disappeared into a giant dust bunny that danced with every sneeze or cough that emanated from the remains of its human skeleton.