by Lisa H. Owens
Kimmie will set me free, thought Digme, extracting the vial of luminescent drops hidden beneath his cassock. He’d traded hard-earned quiffles on the sorcerer’s promise of a life beyond reach of his cruel maester.
Liquid mercury—dropped upon Kimmie’s iron-gall ink eyes—begat cavernous pools of light and the animator bowed his head.
Maester Mange eagerly stroked his matted beard; Kimmie’s tempestuous eyes would make him rich.
Her image winked.
Mange gasped, pressing in for a closer look. Kimmie’s eyes glowed—fiery orbs of destruction—consuming the maester. He reappeared in the frame’s desolate background, a writhing smudge of ink.
Lisa H. Owens
Lisa H. Owens, an author residing in North Texas with two motley rescue dogs, has been published in several anthologies and various media outlets, including a two-year stint as a monthly humorist columnist. She credits her success to the support and mentorship of the late, great Steven Lester Carr. Her stories are often inspired by true events, usually including private jokes and family nicknames.