Hawthorn & Ash #19

Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.

With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.

TURN OVER A NEW LEAF

I hate weddings. They’re a waste of time, energy, and money.

Cousin Em invites me to one, anyway.

Hers.

She wrangles me into a fancy suit and makes me stand with her groom’s friends while chittering women hang off our arms. When I can’t take it anymore, I excuse myself and wander toward the table with the wedding favors. I’d rather babysit plants than fetch the bridesmaids any more wine. Plants, at least, are quiet.

That’s the extent of my knowledge about plants, however. Taking care of things—or, God forbid, people—has never been my strong suit. I realized that the moment my third pet goldfish died under my watch. Or, more appropriately, the lack thereof.

I stare at the pots of little cacti. What do you do with them? They’re bulbous and thorny and—

“Ow,” I hiss, jerking back my arm. My hand had hovered a little too close to one cactus, and its spikes are so thin, I can’t see where they end. Or, well, I can know that my blood is on them. What an appropriate symbol of marriage.

“What did you do?” Em’s voice echoes from behind me.

I turn to glare at her as I suck the blood out of my forefinger. “It pricked me.”

She laughs. “You’re such a baby.” She sidesteps me to pluck the plant I’d bloodied from the table, holding it to my face. “Here. You’ve marked it, so it’s yours. It’s a cactus, Ollie. You can’t possibly kill a cactus.”

“Just watch me.”

She laughs again.

Bless her, she thinks I’m joking.

***

That night, I dream that I’m under the bed, hiding from something outside the door. I hear voices, and something scratching and clawing at the door. But it’s far from the strangest thing in the dream. Beside me, a woman lies on her stomach. Her skin has a greenish tint, and the hairs on them are so fine, they draw blood when I inch too close.

But I don’t pull back. I don’t feel pain.

“It’s alright, Ollie,” she assures. She doesn’t turn to look at me, but she rests a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades. “You’re safe with me. I will never leave you.”

I relax under her touch. I could stay here, under the bed beside her, forever.

Then something cold and wet explodes on my face. I scream, trying to claw at the sludge in my eyes. The woman’s fingers dig into my skin, but something else begins to pull me away. I can’t figure out who, but one of them is winning. I hope it’s her.

“Ollie!”

My eyes snap open. Em looms over me as I shiver from the water dripping off my hair and face. “Are you mad?” I croak.

“You were having a fit,” she says, looking as confused as I felt. Her nose wrinkles. “God, Ollie. Look at all this mold—”

I laugh, then stop short.

My mouth is dry. I taste dirt.

If you enjoyed this drabble you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.

AVAILABLE HERE!