#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: This One is too Hot: Part 2
#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt
Clair meanwhile, had drifted to the bookshelf. “They’re bound funny,” she called over to us.
“It’s just leather,” Rebecca said. Her face was red from blowing on the fire, but it was going now and had begun to warm the room.
“No, they’re icky, all crinkly to the touch and slimy. They make you feel weird.”
“Then don’t touch them,” I said.
“But they’re interesting,” Clair replied.
I shrugged and turned to Rebecca, saying, “She’s our daughter, all right.” Rebecca nodded.
“This book is too hard, but you might like this one.” Clair handed me a thick book. On the spine was written “Das Kapital. Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie.”
Clair was right; it made you feel funny: sad, like you were listening to someone crying. For a moment, I thought I heard someone shouting in Russian, followed by a scream.
“And this one is too simple,” Anastasia said, waking me from my daydream. She handed a copy of “Lang’s Blue Fairy Tales” to Rebecca.
I blinked; the room was fuzzy. “Anastasia?” That wasn’t right. I meant Clair. That was my daughter’s name.
Puzzled at my confusion, I watched her walk to the bookshelf again. Her white dress sparkled in the firelight.
She took out a third book. “#Dope! This one is just right,” she said in an odd voice: distant and sinister. She was holding a copy of “Ivanhoe Continued: The Burning of Rebecca.”
“Ah,” Rebecca gasped. I turned, expecting her to object to the “Goldilocks” game again, only she wasn’t there. All that was there was the wall, stove, and blaze in the fireplace, all seen as if in a distorted mirror.
“Mom?” Claire said and walked past me—diamonds draped her snow-white dress—she stopped at the fireplace, gazing at the blaze, which was going nicely, making the air smell faintly of pine smoke. Then I choked as a whiff of burned meat reached me.
Clair screamed, “Mom!” and pointed to the fire.
Wreathed in fire was the image of the woman I loved tied to a stake. The flames licked around her. You could all but her screams. Rebecca. Our Rebecca was there. Ivanhoe’s Rebecca. A witch burning for our sins.
2/4
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #Ivanhoe
