Urban Fantasy Flash Fiction
The Skull Dilemma
Raz Solomon was in his study when the goblin came in. The tiny creature had mossy, green fur and yellow eyes, and was wearing a human skull like a hermit crab in a shell. Despite this, its appearance wasn’t alarming. As a threshold mage, Solomon was used to all manner of otherworldly creatures coming to him for help. The brownstone where he lived had numerous wards against intruders, but his security spells allowed his friends and neighbors to enter.
Solomon took another sip of his Old Fashioned and then reluctantly placed the cocktail aside. “Hello, Prong. What can I do for you?”
Prong bowed deeply, or as deeply as one could bow while wearing a skull. “I’m feelin’ a mite guilty about me new home, Sol.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Goblins can feel guilty?”
“We don’t, mostly, but the ghost attached to this skull keeps whinging on about me robbin’ his grave. Could you be a dear and throw him in one o’ yer supernatural prisons?”
Solomon’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Making you feel bad isn’t a crime.”
“Yes,” the goblin nodded, “but ye olde Goblin / Spirit Treaty o’ 1666 bans all manner o’ hauntings, ghostly infestations, possessions, and the like.”
He sighed. “You have to read the footnotes. ‘Except in cases of disturbed or displaced remains.’ Which of course this is.” He stood, brushing the wrinkles from his brocade smoking jacket. “What is the ghost’s name?”
The goblin thought, tapping a finger against his lower lip. “If I recall the headstone correctly, I believe the feller was called Rip.”
He blinked. “That’s not… Never mind.” He waved his hand. A shadow appeared next to Prong, black with pinpoints of light like a night sky. “Spirit, what is your name?”
Its voice was hollow, like the echo of someone far away. “Ellis.”
He nodded. “I am Raz Solomon, a threshold mage. I settle disputes between worlds. How can I help you rest?”
The shadow shuddered. “Tell this creature to return my bones!”
Prong glowered. “No goblin would ever be so cowardly as to surrender his home! It’s a disgrace! Me ma would never forgive me! It would dishonor me goblinny ancestors! And besides, I already decorated.”
“Ellis,” Solomon said, “I know you are bound to your remains, but I can transfer your bond, if you will let me. Can I offer you a new home?” He gestured to the mystical artifacts lining his study – enchanted mirrors, mildly cursed jewels, and all manner of wands, crystals, and daggers. “You are free to haunt any of these, if you like. Just not the bust of Pallas. That one is already haunted.”
“Actually, I miss dancing at parties,” Ellis said. “Do you have any fancy clothes I could haunt?”
He nodded. “I suppose I could spare a suit. Do you like worsted wool? I have charcoal gray, midnight blue, and several suits in colors that technically do not exist.”
Ellis folded his arms. “Actually… I was never brave enough to dress how I liked when I was alive.” He looked away, the points of light glowing brighter. “Could I haunt a ball gown?”
Solomon smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”
The Trial
Raz Solomon was in his bedroom, about to retire for the night, when he was grabbed and dragged through a mirror. He had just enough time to summon his robe before the portal closed. He found himself in a vast room with wood paneled walls and a constellation of candles floating near the ceiling. Rows of pews stood on one side of the room. The creatures seated there were shrouded in shadows, but appeared to be watching him closely. The words “Absentia Courtroom” were engraved on the wall in elegant, swirling fae writing. No doubt, he was in the Inverse.
A pair of gray-skinned fae appeared and forced him into a chair. Like most fae, they were the size of humans, and despite being thin, they were as strong as bodybuilders. “Mage,” the taller one said, “you are on trial for the slaughter of the Bone Thieves.”
Solomon laughed. “Slaughter? That was self-defense! I stopped them from eating all of Bridgeport!”
The shadowy creatures in the audience booed. Fae had no judges, so trials were decided based on the defendant’s popularity with the audience. It seemed they already didn’t like him.
The taller fae wrinkled his nose. “I am Bix, and this is my partner Nix. We are in charge of your interrogation. First question… Wolves kill humans, and so do bears and sharks. And yet, the only specicide you have committed is against the Bone Thieves. Why is that?”
He shook his head slowly. “Creatures that sneak into your bedroom and steal your bones are a bit more dangerous! Besides, I haven’t exterminated them. I only trapped them. Their entire species is locked in a magical prison in the Mojave Desert.” He grinned. “I call it The Rib Cage.”
The audience groaned. “He’s the real monster! Lock him up!”
“Is this a joke to you?” Nix demanded, jabbing a long finger at his chest.
“A bit, yes. You know I’ve done nothing wrong. If you actually are interrogators, you know the Treaty of Worlds as well as I do. I’ll be heading home now.” With a gesture, he reopened the portal in the mirror.
“But when will the Bone Thieves be released?” Bix called, scowling.
Solomon floated across the room to the mirror. “Judge Leviathan sentenced them to an eternity in prison, but they could get a few years off for good behavior.” As the audience booed, he stepped into the glass.
The Shortcut
Raz Solomon gazed at his reflection. It was dangerous to use the Inverse as a shortcut, but there just wasn’t any way around it. He had an appointment to get to, and cabs refused to visit the Dark Quarter. Checking that no one in the antique shop was watching, he entered the mirror.
The mirror opened to the Nightshade Market, twisting streets lined by stalls and gas lanterns. Turning down an alley to avoid a crowd of fae, he was accosted by a trio of redcaps. “Your money and your life!” With these goblins, it was never “or.”
“Sorry, fellas, no time to play. I’m late.” He whistled. A tentacle reached out from a nearby grate, dragging the screaming goblins into the sewer. “Thanks, Eddie.”
After a short walk, he came to the Gloaming Glade Motel. The doors opened as he approached. He tossed a coin to the rå running the front desk.
“You’ll get me in trouble,” the spirit grumbled. “Boss don’t like humans.”
“You work for a soul leach,” he said. “You’re already in trouble. I recommend bribing the cleaning staff to shrink her clothes in the wash. If she thinks she needs to go on a diet, she might not eat you.”
He entered the gold mirror on the lobby wall and arrived in another lobby, this one at a courthouse in Queens. He ran up the steps and found his ex-wife. “Sheila,” he said, “you can’t ask the judge for the brownstone.”
She wrinkled her nose and huffed. “And why not?”
“First, you don’t have any property rights in this reality. You’re a succubus. Secondly, that’s where I keep my things.”
She folded her arms, her tail swishing angrily. “Fine. Just get my boyfriend released from demon prison.”
“Done. Tell Titivillus I said hi.”
Fairy Ring
Eden Everhart took Raz Solomon to the far end of her estate, near the gazebo. Her family called on Solomon frequently, asking for help with everything from hauntings to sprite infestations. Once, he had to convince her brother to not marry a selkie. Hopefully this favor wouldn’t involve breaking up a relationship.
She gestured with a stick, pointing to a circle of mushrooms. “See there? A fairy ring! How am I supposed to host weddings if people are…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…taken to the fae kingdom?”
He nodded. “This is a clear treaty violation. I will have a talk with them about it.”
He stepped into the ring and instantly found himself in a cave. The air was cold and dank, the sound of dripping water coming from somewhere in the dark. “This isn’t the Inverse… Where am I?” He cast a glimmer spell, summoning a glowing orb. Several three-foot-tall mushrooms ran from the light, hissing and backing away into the darkness. “Ah, this is Basidium! I haven’t been here in ages.”
He walked deeper into the cave, taking several side passages, finally coming to a decaying throne room. The giant fungus growing from the rotting throne was Stinkhorn, the so-called king of Basidium.
Stinkhorn raised a wooden goblet in greeting and took a drink. “What brings you here? We have no business with you, mage.”
Solomon jabbed a finger at his chest. “Don’t play dumb with me, you bloated puffball. Why are you growing imitation fairy rings?”
“To trap fae, of course.”
He laughed. “Whatever for? Do you need the company? Tired of your toady toadstools?”
“They’re stealing my livelihood! They’re selling mushrooms that let humans visit other realms! I invented that!”
He summoned a scroll, unfurling it with a flourish. “According to your treaty with the human realm, you may provide visions of other worlds, but not actual travel.”
“Piffle!” Stinkhorn pounded the throne with his ham-sized fist, spilling his wine.
Solomon held out a hand, flames appearing above his palm. “Unless you want me to roast your little kingdom in butter, return the fae and close any unauthorized portals.”
“Bah!” Stinkhorn grunted. “No one eats my subjects but me. Fine, mage, have it your way. But with fae providing real travel, how am I supposed to sell mere visions? My kingdom needs gold!”
“Oh, I think you’ll be just fine. Many humans prefer daydreams to real experiences. Ever hear of a human art form called television?”
One More Thing Before I Go
Raz Solomon was enjoying a nightcap on his balcony when Orion landed on the railing. The rook looked exhausted, its black wings drooping. “What can I do for you, old friend?” Solomon asked.
“Soul… afterlife… refuses to… go,” the bird panted.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Solomon floated over the railing and down to the back door, where the spirit was waiting. It was a withered shadow, just barely visible in the moonlight. “Hello, friend. What is your name?”
Its voice was like wind through the trees. “Ted.”
“Looks like you’ve been here a while. Why are you sticking around?”
“Kira, my wife. Or she was. I guess she’s my widow now. I don’t want her to be alone. Can you… can you help her find someone new to keep her company?”
He smiled warmly. “I am not much of a matchmaker, but let’s take a look, shall we?”
Solomon flew with the spirit to a house a few miles away. Kira was visible in the window. She had angelic features, and red hair cascading down her shoulders.
Solomon raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure a woman like that will find plenty of admirers all on her own.”
“Just watch,” Ted said. As Kira headed up the stairs, the problem became clear. Instead of legs, she had a long snake tail covered in golden scales.
“A lamia?” Solomon said. “You want me to help a man-eating monster find love? She’s not even supposed to be in this reality!”
Ted nodded. “Please? I need this.”
He let out a sigh. “…I’ll see what I can do.”
~ ~ ~
A few days later, Solomon took Ted to a cafe. Kira was drinking coffee, her tail temporarily transformed into legs by a disguise spell.
The owner carried a tray to her table. He was a tall, thin man with a bushy mustache and an easy smile. “So happy to see you again! I brought you a treat, on the house.”
She picked up something brown and frosted from the tray. “Oh, gingerbread men! My favorite.”
Ted’s shadowy form quivered. “Does he know?”
“Yes,” Solomon said. “I told him all about her personality and her hobbies, as well as her… unique biological condition.”
“And he still wants to date her? I barely survived, and she was madly in love with me.”
“Some men have a taste for danger.”
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