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There's No Actual Law

27th January, Story #27/366. (Part 8 of the Moira series - if you'd like to read the others first, they're all at the end in the author's note.)

By L.C. SchäferPublished 3 years ago 3 min read

I didn't kill the detective, if that's what you are thinking. I just nibbled him a bit. Goodness, if I killed every ignorant tosspot who fat-shamed me one way or another, I'd have a very suspicious trail of dead bodies behind me and all around me.

There's no actual law against harassing someone in their dreams.

That detective is my pet project for the time being. I might kill him, or I might drive him to madness. Or I might just tire of him and let him return to the police force. He's hardly a threat to me, is he? My alibi was solid. The fact is, I was most definitely asleep when Mike-in-Accounts died.

So: the pig is in hospital now. They're running tests. They have no idea what's wrong with him. Night after night, I slip into the dreamscape and torment him, and his condition in the waking world deteriorates. I imagine him rallying in the daytime, only to get worse still the following night.

Sometimes, I take the wolfshape, other times the deer-woman, or a succubus, or I draw something from his own mind.

On Sunday, I got an early night ready for work on Monday. I was delighted to find that our repeated escapades together had strengthened the weak link between us, and I was able to ghost into his hospital room to see his physical form.

He was crying like a baby and gripping his wife's hand in sausagey fingers. Tears soaked that ridiculous moutasche and he gibbered and shook his head when they came at him with a needle. A sedative, I think, and he knew it, because he tried to fight them off. I laughed. They thought they were helping, but they were only delivering him more swiftly and surely into my clutches.

Before the drug took him, he looked right at me, puzzlement stamped on his face. I let my image flicker, so he could recognise me from his dreams. My antlers grew larger, more imposing. I fixed him with a golden gaze.

I slipped back into the dreamscape, ready to sup on all the juicy stuff until he's literally just a shell of the man he was.

++++++++++++

Word count (excluding note): 366

Submitted on 27th January at 13.35

*Quick Author's Note*

Thank you for reading! Your thoughtful engagement is very much valued. Please leave a comment so I can reciprocate the read. If you enjoyed it, the best compliment you can give is to share it, or read another. Thank you especially to those who are being so supportive through this project. You are more appreciated than you know!

The story behind the story: It's part of a series of micros. They're all really short:

1. A Cock About to Cro-

2. Cat and Mouse

3. Just Desserts

4. A Pound of Soul

5. How Much Cake is one Soul Worth?

6. Hungry Like a Wolf

My "story every day" project: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 27 day streak. You can find all of them in my Index post, which is pinned to the top of my profile. I'll also link to it at the bottom.

If you're joining me on this "story every day" madne adventure, please leave a link to yours in the comments. Whether you're on a creative bent, like me, and writing mostly microfiction/stories, or whether you have your own, self-imposed criteria, I'd love to see what you come up with for today. I'll try to come back and edit this to link to your piece at the bottom.

If you'd like to buy the cow, or get more sort-of free milk on Kindle Unlimited:

Thank you again!

MicrofictionShort StorySeries

About the Creator

L.C. Schäfer

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Glass Dolls

Summer Leaves (grab it while it's gorgeous)

Never so naked as I am on a page

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    Written by L.C. Schäfer