The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Ire of the Small
by Kim Richards 

Esme lounged among the luxurious duvet on her bed. Lying atop the white covering sat a wooden lapboard which balanced her mug of hot tea and a bergamot jar candle. Its citrusy scent filled the room. She smiled as she looked at it. Yes, as promised in the book, it lured the pixies to her. Now captured under a glass dome, she turned away from the open window and brought both inside her room. She set the pixies on the bed beside the lapboard.

She leaned forward on her elbows and stuck her nose close, nearly touching the sides of the glass. A hundred little rose gold lights buzzed around in furious circles. Occasionally one or two threw themselves against the sides of their transparent prison. Tink. Only after falling to the bottom of the dome stand, senseless from their attempts to free themselves, were their tiny bodies visible to Esme’s eyes. She thought their translucent wings and delicate limbs were adorable. She laughed when she heard their tinny, high pitched voices. Their curses were too cute to concern her.

Esme lifted the camera inherited from her grandmother and peered into the view square at her new pets. Click. Click. Click.

Suddenly, a free pixie flew across her face. It circled her head and landed on her nose. Its tiny form shook a fist at her and hurled a threat. Its hand clutched a tiny sword the size of a bumble bee stinger. In a swift movement, it stabbed Esme’s skin. A drop of blood formed where it jabbed her.

Surprised, Esme slapped her hand but missed the pixie. She bolted upright and cried out as the sudden movement splashed hot tea over her hand. The pixie became ten, then fifty, then a thousand as more of them flew in the window. They surrounded her in a tornado of little lights, pricking her skin as they passed. Their taunts buzzed in her ears, joined by shouts of encouragement from those under the glass dome.

She frantically swiped at them, yet their stinging strikes were relentless. A contingent of twenty massed into a formation and headed straight towards her face. Esme ducked down. The burning candle bounced up, hitting her on the forehead and dousing her eyes in burning wax. She cried out from the pain and thrashed, falling from the bed and hitting her head on the hardwood floor. The camera landed beside her.

The motion knocked over the glass dome. With shouts of glee, the prisoners flew up. They joined their rescuers and fled out the window.

As Esme stirred and tried to pick away the solidifying wax from her eyes, she heard a click. An evil giggle faded away and she was left all alone.

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com