“Winter Wreaths” — Flash Fiction Friday

At first snowfall, young Pestil took wreaths to her neighbors. Last was old Mr. Wormwood.

He answered, smiled thanks, and ignored her questions of strange smells and hisses. Then shut the door.
And Pestil tried not to think about the severed blue hand she’d seen reaching up from his alchemy table.

If you like the vibe of these stories, you might like the ongoing short story collection “Tales from Another World.” You can find the Amazon series page here.

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