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.
ONE NICE NECROMANCER
Of all the dungeons that Sashna had been held in, this was undeniably the coziest. It even had a fireplace. She appreciated the sound of the crackling logs. It almost blocked out the voices.
The man sitting across from her cleared his throat. Sashna perked up. “Sorry, my mind went for a stroll again.”
“Welcome back,” he laughed. “Did you hear my question?”
“About the boy?”
“We’ll come back to that. First, I wanted to know: honey or milk?” The man received a tray from another guard. The teapot, cups, and saucers were all made from polished silver.
“Both, please.”
He gingerly added both, stirred, and handed the steaming cup to her. Sashna caught a whiff. Her eyes widened, and she took a quick sip. Then another, longer one. “This tastes like—”
“Home?”
“Yes!” she cried. “Have you been to the Isles?”
“Sadly, no. But the warden has. He figured eating and drinking like you might help him live as long.”
“I’m afraid immortality doesn’t work like that. Not that you should bother.”
“I’m afraid bothering’s my job,” the man looked down at his cup. “So, about the boy.”
“How is he?”
“Oh, good. Still won’t tell his uncle where the gold is.”
“Nor should he,” she said. “His parents strictly forbade it.”
The man sighed. “Seeing as he’s the boy’s last living relative, we were curious how you know that.”
“I told you already.”
“Say I believe you,” he said. “Why would someone who lives forever want to talk to dead people?”
A draft blew into the room. Sashna pulled her robe up to her chin. “So I could keep in touch with my friends.”
The man finished his cup and stood up. “That doesn’t sound like a necromancer. When I’m done with paperwork, we can think of something to tell my supervisors. See if we can’t get you out of here.”
“Thank you, Roderik.”
He turned around at the door. “Who told you my name?”
“The other inmates,” she smiled.
Roderik stared in disbelief. Then, he turned and walked past rows of empty cells. When his footsteps vanished, the draft returned. It was bitterly cold, enough to freeze the lock at the door. With a final gust, it broke open. Floating through the opening was the spectral outline of a veiled woman.
“Finished with your tea?” the ghost asked.
“Almost,” Sashna said, before taking one final gulp. She joined her liberator, leaving the cup on the saucer. “How long were you there, Cinilith?”
“Long enough,” she said, and Sashna was certain she was smiling behind the veil. “Now let’s go.”
Sashna followed her trail of light, gently closing the door behind her. “When we’re safe, could you send a letter back?”
“For who?”
“My guard.”
Cinilith sighed. “And what should it say?”
“Thank you for the tea,” Sashna said. “Of all the dungeons that I’ve been held in…”
Joe Wood is a writer and educator with a passion for both storytelling and reading advocacy. He earned his BA in Creative Writing from Canisius University and is studying School Psychology at SUNY Oswego. His work has appeared in This Exquisite Topology Anthology, and his upcoming book, In the Cold Starlight, will be published by Rogue Planet Press in 2026.
If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash anthology.
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