1874. Outside a thrush was singing

Iseult was a novelist. She wrote horror, fantasy and science fiction.

It was raining outside. It was one of those sun-shower days that make you understand why Ireland is called “The Emerald Isle”. The green was translucent.

Iseult gazed out the window. She had been stuck on a sentence for two days now. “Herman raised the axe”. Iseult knew she couldn’t kill off Aoibhinn, the heroine, so early in the novel. It was after all only page 19.

“Herman raised the axe.” What comes next? How could Aoibhinn escape this inevitable fate? Does she bend down to pat the dog and thus escape the plunging axe head? No! No! It’s all too predictable. Simply bending to pat a dog and escaping murder is so gauche. Maybe Iseult had made a mistake modelling Herman on the guy who comes to mow her lawns – he was too much an unexciting character. His personality didn’t advance the plot.

Outside the window a thrush was singing its heart out in the rain. Now there’s a sentence, thought Iseult. “Herman raised the axe. Outside the window a thrush was singing its heart out in the rain.”

Iseult typed the new sentence. At least she was one sentence further on. It’s fun, she thought, that what I type is actually happening! Outside the window a thrush was singing…

Herman raised the axe. Outside the window a thrush was singing its heart out in the rain. Iseult bent down to pat the dog.

(The real Iseult blogs HERE. There she reviews many a book. Her own novel – “7 Days in Hell” – is available on Amazon. Sometime ago, in the comments on my blog, Iseult expressed a mild desire to be a “victim” in one of my stories! Hence today’s gentle, though callous, plot.)

1480. Pillow case

Contessa was a tiny worm, undetectable, that lived inside the pillow on Nerissa’s bed. Every night, Contessa would wiggle her way out through a little hole in the corner of Nerissa pillow, crawl into Nerissa’s ear, and enter her brain. Once in the brain, Contessa would rearrange all the new information that Nerissa had gathered during the previous day.

This was a necessary thing for Contessa to do, because Nerissa was forever planning to air the pillow in the sunshine the next day. Nothing would kill a worm off quicker than warm sunlight. Hence, for Contessa, deleting data related to the airing of the pillow was paramount. It was self-preservation.

Over the years, Contessa grew longer. Now, when she entered Nerissa’s brain, Contessa’s tail hung several inches out of Nerissa’s ear. These days, there seemed so much more information in Nerissa’s brain to process. Some nights, Contessa never finished sorting and deleting. And then the inevitable happened…

In her sleep, Nerissa scratched her ear, and in doing so, Contessa split in half. For a while the dislocated bottom half wiggled away, but Contessa’s top half panicked and scrambled back to the safety of the pillow.

Because the job of sorting was unfinished, Nerissa remembered the next day to air the pillow. Contessa’s top half died in the warmth of the sun.

It didn’t matter though, for Contessa’s bottom half was safely hiding in Nerissa’s other pillow. Her life’s work would begin the following night.