Tag Archives: unreliable narrator

271. The lava lamp sold

The lava lamp sold for seventeen dollars twenty-five, which was on the very low end of the range of sums Ling was willing to pay for it. Then again, the vendor didn’t have a clue it would be worth a millionfold in half an eon’s time.

Of course Ling still had to hope he wouldn’t notice that the money was first issued some ten years from here. Bank notes of this era were hard to come by of late, so she’d had to dip into her eighties cash reserve. The vendor held the bills to the light one by one, making Ling sweat, but he didn’t catch the impossible future date.

“Enjoy the lamp, miss.”

Ling had been doing this for six years now and she still enjoyed it immensely, despite the motion sickness that wreaked havoc on her body after each time jump. The wealthy Chinese businessman who employed her could just have printed out a pristine copy and nobody would have noticed the difference. But to have the genuine, centuries old article on display, was worth good money. And Ling was all too willing to cash.

“Isn’t it marvellous?” the businessman asked her as he put the lamp on his mantelpiece. “Only a mind on acid would come up with a thing like this. Were we really that spaced out back then? Could you actually smell the pot in the air?”

“Yes,” she lied. The more she played on his nostalgia, the more he would be inclined to continue using her services.

***

After she’d stacked away the money, she whipped out her electronic notepad and started concocting the narrative details of her next trip to the past.

Her 3D printer was already hard at work at the third century BC Greek amphora.

 

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Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

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32. The marble statues were silent witnesses

The marble statues were silent witnesses of the tragedy that had just occurred. On the grass the governess cradled the lifeless young boy in her arms. Her salty tears dripped on his closed eyelids. The rage that had slowly been building in her heart now escaped her mouth in full force.

“Show yourself, you demon! Show yourself!”

The woods surrounding the estate did not answer. The ghost of Glennis Aldershot, so vicious in ripping the life from the boy moments earlier, did not make himself heard or seen.

The governess stood up, still holding the boy in her arms. She shook his body, hoping to wake him from his sleep. But despair made way for resignation: his spirit had most definitely crossed the threshold to the afterlife.

How would she bring the devastating news to the boy’s little sister? It was her soul the ghost had seemed most intent on. Aldershot had been prying upon her, haunting her day and night, ever since the children had set foot into the mansion. Falling chandeliers had missed her by an inch. The runaway carriage had only bruised her. But it was her protective older brother who had now paid the ultimate price.

The governess consoled her aching heart with thoughts of all the preparations that the funeral would entail. Those would keep her occupied. Those would keep her mind off the death of an innocent child. Those would perhaps erase her own guilt.

As long as she stuck to the ghost story she had cunningly fed the children from the beginning, just in case something like this would happen.

 

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Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

Available at the Createspace Store, at amazon.com, amazon.co.uk or any other Amazon store in your territory.  E-book is also available.

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