Miasma…

Marion pushed the word out of her mouth and into the cold air in her kitchen. 

Mmmiasmaaaa… 

She savored the m’s, stretched them like taffy between her lips and felt them vibrate and then stick to her teeth like peanut butter. 

Bitsy the broken doll watched from a shelf behind a pane of glass as Marion sipped cherry pepsi, sitting on top of the counter. 

The game is that if I keep talking, you can’t hurt me. 

The rules were simple and infinite. 

When you were home alone, she could get you. But she couldn’t get you if someone else was watching. 

If one of the cats was purring near you, she couldn’t get you. 

If the tv was playing wheel of fortune, if you made it into the trash can with your trash from across the room, if a grown up was laughing… 

Mmminimum…

If you held your m’s for as long as you could while practicing your vocabulary words. 

There were crickets outside and the forest preserve seemed like it was yelling at her. In August it sounded like singing, but in September Marion felt like she was being scolded by the noise. 

Mmmmalaise…

She held the M for extra long as she jumped down off the counter and went to the fridge. White Bread, Kraft Cheese, Butter- she lined them up on the counter and went to get a knife. 

Mmmacabre…

Bitsy’s glass eyes stared evenly out at the kitchen as Marion carved through butter and mashed it onto white bread. The rules are wonder bread with butter and baloney after school. 

Mmmmmaelstrom… 

Marion pushed the sandwich through the doggy door and onto the back porch. She turned on wheel of fortune, turned up the volume and hugged a velvet pillow close to her chest. 

Reflected in Bitsy’s eyes, a tendril of fog made its way onto the porch and covered the plate. 

Mmmmagnitude…

Pat Sajak yelled letters into the empty house while Marion waited. 

Magnanimous. 

The oven clock showed 5:30 and Marion took an empty plate back through the doggy door. She turned on all the lights, in the house and put a stack of books in front of the doggy door, and triple checked Bitsy’s cabinet. 

Night, Mom. 

Marion looked out at the forest and the void between the trees seemed to soften. She saw a firefly wink at her from the darkness. 

Grace Walters

This short story was the winner of Alloy‘s October Flash Fiction Contest; writers were challenged to write a flash fiction piece that was reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft’s eldritch horrors.