Flash Fiction Magazine

Daily Flash Fiction Stories

Will-O’-the-Wisp

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By Ellen Davis Sullivan

Sandra didn’t know what brought on her new power, but it started a day or two after she died. Every morning since then, she’d been able to do things she never could do before: teleport small objects, read thoughts, appear suddenly miles away. She could even perform an incantation that kept neighborhood dogs from peeing on her begonias. Her life was becoming increasingly enjoyable, especially once she sucked out her sister Joan’s breath and stuffed herself into a living body.

That didn’t feel cruel because Joan was nearly dead from dementia, lying around mouth agape, unable to talk or even to pet her black cat Delilah. Once Sandra did the switch, her eighty-five-year-old sister had the blessed release of death, and surprisingly, her brain and body revived with Sandra inside. The only drawback was how empty the house felt. Sandra had moved in a few years ago to care for Joan, a widow with no kids. Alone in a neighborhood of families, Sandra needed a project.

On a perfect Saturday afternoon—dense fog smearing the trees and the swamp that wove in and out among the manicured yards—the harsh crow caws dulled to a hum and, with a raw drizzle sneaking through overhanging branches, Sandra got an idea. She’d try her power on the one thing she’d longed for, but never had: grandchildren. Her daughter had been career-obsessed and didn’t marry until she was fifty. Her son’s husband was a lovely man with no interest in adopting. They might no longer be obstacles to Sandra’s desire.

Sandra settled on the porch rocker, Delilah perched on her shoulder, a familiarity the cat never indulged in when Joan was alive. A will-o’-the-wisp hovered over the marsh. In life,she’d never noticed its eerie pulse, but now it mesmerized her as if it might be transmitting energy. Kids outside on a dank day like this might be bold enough to ignore their parents’ warning not to talk to strangers.

She was dozing when Delilah licked her ear: a boy and girl, their sneakers crusted with mud, approached from the bog. No doubt they’d been exploring the vine-infested swamp against their parents’ instructions, a good sign.

The girl carried a glass jar, her thumbs jamming down the lid. The boy, half a head taller, walked a few steps, then pivoted and walked backward, arms pinwheeling, a march of childish silliness.

“What did you catch?” Sandra called out.

The girl held up her trophy proudly. “Squishy!”

“It is?”

“That’s what she named it,” the boy intoned with big brother authority.

“Can I see?”

The children looked at each other for a long moment; then the boy shrugged. The girl stepped forward and thrust out the jar. Inside, a wide-eyed toad looked as if it didn’t know which was more alarming, being stuck in a glass receptacle or seeing Delilah at eye level.

“Ah,” Sandra said. “A real charmer.”

“I caught him all by myself,” the girl said.

“You did not.” The boy came up beside her, his chest puffed. “I got the lid on.”

They were perfect—unsophisticated and full of themselves.

“Will your parents let you keep it?”

The boy shook his head dolefully. “No way.”
“I’m going to hide it,” the girl said.

“Like your lip gloss?” the boy said.

“Leave it with me,” Sandra said. “Then you can come play with it anytime you want.”

They exchanged a glance.

“I bet your mom’s afraid of toads.”

The girl raised her pale face skyward with a look that said, You know it.

“I’m not.” Sandra held out her hand. As the children came nearer, Sandra muttered a few words. Their eyes shut, and when they opened, they sparkled at her as if they knew she’d provide unimaginable adventures.

Sandra pointed to the will-o’-the-wisp out in the sodden marsh, a beacon of swamp gas. “People believe it has power over those who stray off their path,” she said. “A wandering soul could get lost forever.”

“No one ever told us that,” the boy said.

“I share nature’s secrets with my friends,” Sandra said.

“Can we be your friends?” the girl asked.

“I’d like that.”

Nearly every day since then the children stopped by. Among the things Sandra taught them: how to snare a snapping turtle for her terrarium, how to pick mushrooms that wouldn’t induce hallucinations, and how to set their hopes in moon water to leave out overnight. As her powers grew, she fought the urge to introduce them to spells they could use on other children.

The day their mother showed up to ask why her children spent so much time with Sandra, Delilah growled when the woman neared, alerting Sandra. The doorbell chimed. As the woman peered through the window beside the door, Sandra revealed the inner self her increasing power had created: scarlet lips open around a forked tongue, gold eyes shooting strobe light, snaky hair coiled over her brow.

Back in Joan’s body, she opened the door. “I’m surprised you found your way in this fog,” Sandra said.

The woman stood, eyes bulging, mouth open. She gasped. “I need…my children. You can’t have them.”

“Oh, my dear, it’s too late for that.”

“Once I get home, you won’t see them again.” The woman turned, stumbled on a sharp rock, grabbed her ankle, then staggered to the street.

“Don’t forget to keep your eye on the will-o’-the-wisp,” Sandra called as the mother disappeared into the thick, gray gloom.

She closed the door with a satisfying thud. No doubt the children would be too sad for a time to leave their father alone, but eventually they’d be back. After all, Sandra had Squishy.

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Reader Interactions

Comments

  7. Ellie, thanks for sharing it. Really enjoyed reading it. Feels a little bit like a cross between the Twilight Zone and Stephen King. Happy New Year.

    Jim

    Reply

    • Thanks for reading it, Jimmy! I was totally going for that kind of vibe. Happy New Year to you and Amy!

      Reply

  9. Love the voice and being in her point of view. You pack an entire world full of sly humor, magic, and just the right amount of creepiness into a handful of words. Well done and well deserved!

    Reply

  13. “…how to set their hopes in moon water to leave out overnight.” Yes! Love what you’ve done in the confines of the flash fiction structure. Congrats!!

    Reply

  15. Ellen! Is this truly your first flash fiction?! It’s so well-done. It is fun and strange and, at the same time, eerily familiar (I think there’s a term for that . . . ); that is, it plays so well off of –our “common” realities and inclination including of course the desire for grandchildren, the childishness of children (trust, ego, curiosity, suspension of conventional judgement), the logic of when it’s someone’s time to go; how we live in/through others (emphasized here through a delightful literal-ness!). I also like the ending, which, in my reading, is intentionally murky. CONGRATS! Thanks for sharing.

    Reply

    • Thank you, Krishna for such a kind and thorough consideration of my story! Yep, it’s my 1st.

      Reply

  18. Killer first line, and the story delivers on its promise! It’s funny, creepy, moody, has evocative imagery – so well done!

    Reply

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