Sudden Fiction
Stories with more than 100, but less than 750 words. The length I’ve written the most.
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Normalcy
It had been years since the doll had been a doll, and yet some parts remained. The faint joint lines that betrayed a body of artificial creation, the soft glow behind its light blue eyes, the smooth movements and flow associated with chores it had done thousands of times before. And yet, there was something…
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it still functions
The mysteries would have to wait for another day. There was tea to be brewed, and breakfast to be made.
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Agency
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A witch’s ability to warp the Real to Her whims is not, as commonly believed, based in magic.
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Broken Pieces
And if a few pieces get mixed up along the way…well, that’s just how these things work, isn’t it?
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Synchronicity
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If you or your doll partner begin to experience identity blending, shared dreams or hallucinations, or other such synchronicity events, immediate self-termination is advised. Failure to do so may lead to ego death, erroneous visions, delusion, reality corruption, and ultimately complete derealization and integration into the human subconscious.
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Entrails (#EmptyOctober 5)
You did your best to remember the brief training you’d received on how to talk to a doll. Soft, easy voice, like you’re addressing a child, don’t spook it…
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Bile (#EmptyOctober 3)
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You felt like a passenger in your own body, watching your hands move of their own accord – *her* accord, guiding your fighter in. The craft slammed into the deck with a horrid screeching as every single alarm in the cockpit went off, but you kept your calm. Her presence was like a warm blanket.
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Blood (#EmptyOctober 2)
Be careful not to cut too often, too deeply, lest you dull your sharpness and lose your edge too soon. A good wielder knows when to strike and when to hold back. Trust in your wielder, weapon.
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Light the Candles (#EmptyOctober 1)
Around you were a set of candles, five in total: one of each limb, and another for your head. You formed a human pentagram, tied up as you were. The rope was soft silk and extremely comfortable. Your girlfriend joked at being a witch, and you had always laughed, brushing it off.
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Taste of Blood
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Your rage was subsumed with lust and need and ecstasy and bliss as She filled you, deeper than any bullet or blade could ever hope to, as the screams of the battlefield slowly gave way in your mind to your own shrieks of pleasure.
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Beginnings
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People treated you like a machine, just your partner’s android traveling companion, which suited you just fine. You never really felt much connection to your humanity, or even your personhood, and readily gave both up as soon as you could afford to.
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Taste
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“You did so well, restraining yourself for me.” That fucking voice. Her low, smooth tone was fucking intoxicating and washed all other thoughts away. “I could sense it, too, my sweet shield. Men, hm? But it makes them absolutely blind to just how they’re going to get fucked. And speaking of that…”