Tonight I will regale you with a second helping of a Tale Told in Tiny Bites. If you missed the first, here you are. Don’t take too long though, we won’t wait forever. 😀
On with the show..
At home her Superman held Our Hero close. When she finished the wretched tale, Superman hit Search on a small television remote. “Its alright dear, you were magnificent. We will both be ready the next time him dares to venture out. He is nothing, a shapeless shadow.” Our Hero, poked him hard in the ribs. “You don’t have to be so dramatic just because you are out of work.” She picked a book off the coffee table and turned to the section on men and communication.
A week later, one of the citizens was accosted by a dark shape that resembled both Medusa and Bugs Bunny. Our Hero found the victim curled up and sobbing like a small child. “Hold it right there, ma’am. The police have this under control. Go back home, Hortensia.” Her anger, at first slow, gathered speed until it burst like an ugly boil. “I can tell that my disguise has duped you once more, sir.” At once she tore at the side of a realistic mask to reveal a tiny woman no bigger than a five year old child.
The victim, a twenty-five year old investment banker, interrupted the exchange. “There it is!” she screamed, pointing with a tremulous hand at a figure near a rotted tree. Our Hero (not Horstensia) approached the old Beech tree with caution. A deep laugh emanated from the bowels of the earth followed by a cold wind the temperature of the Arctic across her mole-ridden face.
“Face me. You have plenty of time to torture the young, yet insist on turning them into mirrors of you. Go back to your s—” A black slithering shadow crept up around her throat. Our Hero drew a deep breath and let the nightmarish thoughts depart as quickly as they came.
“I will not give in to your tactics so easily,” spitting at Fear who now appeared as her father. He answered, “I can taste your fear. As fine as any wine.” Five more dark tentacles shot out and attached to her legs and hands. Our Hero could feel sadness, anger and apathy on Fear as he drew her closer. A purplish tongue connected with her right cheek. Where was her Superman?
A stream voices, then holograms of people surrounded both Fear and Our Hero. A woman, dressed in sweats and holding a cup of tea, spoke.
“We come here to support you. This thing that happens to look like your father is nothing compared to you.” A woman, with an angel’s smile and laptop, threw Our Hero a soft unicorn the color of sound and touch of midnight moon.
The shape slid from father to her youngest sister, laughter like crushed bones. Our Hero nodded to her sidekicks as they prepared for battle.
Photo Courtesy of Harman Wardani