Writing Shorts

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SIGNS FROM BEYOND
A SHORT STORY BY CASSANDRA DEBROWN, AUTHOR OF OUR URBAN UTOPIA.
COPYRIGHT CASSANDRA DEBROWN, 2012.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Preston Williams was a right ass and everyone but him knew it. He was worse than a mad dog and it was way past time that somebody put him down.

Crouched in the bushes outside his country home, Edna could feel the blend of chemicals coursing through her veins. Her heart was pounding, its rhythm a loud thump, thump, thump, hitting her eardrums in the early morning silence. She wasn’t frightened though. On the contrary, she relished the simulation of the normal human adrenalin fuelled flight or fight response. She thought of a word that would best describe how she felt and settled on giddy. “I feel positively giddy,” she laughed softly. She hadn’t felt this spry, this vibrant, this alive since… well since she’d died actually.

She grimaced at this unwelcome reminder of her unnatural state.

Thanks to that ass Preston, she was no longer alive in the proper sense of the word. The arrogant bastard wasn’t used to being denied anything. Unfortunately her vocabulary seemed to shrink to miniscule proportions whenever she was around the smug little shit. Her usual responses were “No”, “Hell No”, “Oh No” and “Fuck No”. No matter what it was that he wanted, she simply hadn’t been interested. He’d kept pestering and she’d known he’d send his goons after her soon enough so she’d taken adequate precautions.

She’d cast the spell herself and had gone over everything twice, leaving no room for error. It worked like a charm. A few hours after she had been very publicly shot in the head by that moron, Lester, who worked for Preston, she’d woken up with a mild headache and a faint taste of formalin in her mouth. Perhaps she shouldn’t have baited him; perhaps she should have lain low. She shrugged. There was no use second-guessing herself now. What was done was done. She wasn’t a zombie, she wasn’t the undead and she definitely wasn’t a ghost, she felt way too corporeal for that and no way was she an angel (Duh! No wings!). She was simply other.

Someone really should have warned the retard about the consequences of his actions. Karma was one mean bitch. And right now he had a shitload of payback coming his way. If he thought that things were settled now then he had another think coming. Preston Williams was a dead man walking, he just didn’t have enough sense to lie down and die. It would be a singular pleasure to teach him the finer points of etiquette when it came to being a corpse.

Edna smirked evilly to herself as she crept silently towards the big house that was lit up like a Times Square Christmas tree. In the back of her mind she noted vaguely that she cast no shadow in her new form but she didn’t care. Anything was worth it just to see the look on his face when she confronted him.
She’d never been one to put much emphasis on signs and portends but right now she was about to put up a great big billboard. The message she had to put across to the world and the rest of the magical community was simple. YOU DID NOT MESS WITH A HESTON WITCH! Not if you had any modicum of sense or wanted a semblance of a life when you were done.

She ran her hands lightly down her sides, brushing off a layer of dirt that simply wasn’t there. Her pale green tunic was as pristine as it was when she’s put it on. She swished back her shoulder length brunette hair and knew that her pale blue eyes would be sparkling with malice and mischief. She struggled to hold back a manic grin as she gestured to the front door and it swung open welcomingly. She could hear alarms going off and she silenced them all with just a single thought. Making her way up the staircase she knew led to Preston’s bedroom she remarked to herself that the world had gotten it all wrong.
Life didn’t begin at forty, it began when you were dead.

THE END.

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