Ficlets

“Nice place,” she added. “I don’t normally LARP , but you could totally do a cool session up here.”

“Much better than doing it in a graveyard,” she added, making a face.

Reinhardt was caught somewhere between utter bafflement and frank adoration. Being a man of Science, he decided to go with the former.

“Who th-the b-b-bloody Hell are you?” He needed to calm down – he was starting to sound like Lorencz.

“I’m Gwen,” she said, stepping uninvited through the door. She was shorter than Reinhardt liked, and hippier, and he preferred the long tresses and obsolete fashion-sense of his beloved Anna (killed by first creature) and adored Elizabeth (died fleeing second creature) or doomed Celeste (fell off bicycle and plummeted into bottomless crevasse – oh, how satisfying to be the one suing those damn villagers for a change!). But she had spunk and eyes of jade, the full bosom of a fair sweet maid, upon which (he dreamt) his head was laid-

Reinhardt stopped trying to make a poem. It wasn’t his calling.