The Singing Well

"When the Moon Melts" The dwarf's hideous face retreated from the basement window, an array of grimy grey whiskers and a radish nose. Chanted Mr. Plimsoul and the lady together. Wild shadows flickered around them, and they gestured toward the shut box, black and shiny as a beetle's back. They seemed to be trying to compel the box to open or spontaneously erupt in flame...or something. "Casket of Augersaal, I command you: open!" Mr. Plimsoul shouted, making a weird gesture at the box. "By Neamiahas' eye, by Qyudditch's kin, I say: unfasten!" the lady hissed, her boa and her long arms gesturing in the flickering light of the braziers. The casket hopped on the sawhorses once, as if a person inside were being tickled or kicked, and then was still. A thin jet of purple smoke sizzled from one end of the casket... and then stopped. My other books on CreateSpace are: createspace.com/3842640 (142 erotic sonnets) createspace.com/3679722 (Collected poems) createspace.com/3671917 (Travel Notes and Prose Poems in the spirit of Basho) createspace.com/3646295 (Novella inspired by the life of the French symbolist poet, Charles Baudelaire) createspace.com/3679708 (YA coming-of-age novel)