Good morning, everyone! How’s your Thursday going so far?
In honor of Halloween next week, how about a ghost story? That’s tradition, right? To sit around a campfire (or a dark room) and tell stories designed to scare your socks off and make it impossible to get a good night’s sleep. Fun!
I hope everyone has a suitably spooky Halloween. In the meantime, enjoy “Iris & Ivy.”
Iris and Ivy
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright 2011 by Annie Reed
Cover art copyright 2009 by Ivan Bliznetsov at iStockphoto.com
Iris leaned her weary back against the inside of the front door to her apartment. She felt as well as heard the latch snap shut.
Home again, home again, whoop de doo.
She closed her eyes and concentrated. In her mind’s eye, she saw a faint green glow surround the lock. She kept concentrating until the glow spread to fill the crack between the door and the jamb, like a bit of glow-in-the-dark weather stripping.
Satisfied the bit of threshold magic would hold, she opened her eyes and pulled off the wig with its long, brassy red curls. Her scalp itched. She scoured her fingers through her own blonde hair until the skin on her head tingled.
Her face itched, too. She’d caked the makeup on pretty heavy tonight. Foundation and blush. False eyelashes so thick they looked like furry caterpillars crouching on her eyelids. Enough steel grey and dark brown eye shadow to make her look like the sexiest nearly-dead person trolling the dockside bars. She couldn’t wait to wash all the crap off her face so she could get back to being herself.
Changelings shifted their appearance with hardly a second thought. All they had to do was see you, or better yet touch you, and presto chango, say hello to a brand new version of yourself, original model no longer required. Non-changelings like Iris had to work a little harder to become someone else.
“Well?” she said to the not-quite-empty apartment. “What did you think of that one?”
The wig she still held jerked out of her hand and floated in the empty air in front of her. The elastic netting that anchored all those red curls filled out.
(read the rest of the story here)