Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet No. 22 (15 page)

My sources tell me you and Roger have worked out the most charming method of communication. Lucky him. You do write such lovely letters.

Kisses,

Cecily

From the same to the same, August 10th

Gwendolyn—

Well my goodness. How gratifying to know that at least one of my lectures managed to penetrate that pretty little head of yours.

Where did you find it? South Africa? Brazil? It must have cost a very large pile of Roger's money, though I suppose he didn't quaver. Tracking it down must have been a small price to pay for your forgiveness, especially after having projectile-vomited red wine all over your white satin shoes. Did you plant it yourself, Gwennie, or hire someone to do it for you? I'd like to think Roger gave you his old house keys—safely slid under the door, of course—and you stole into the greenhouse by moonlight to bury the seed amongst the orchids. The legend says it must be planted with the heart of a virgin to germinate. Wherever did you find one in this day and age, I wonder?

Carnivorous succulus terribilis
, the largest, deadliest man-eating plant of them all. Whoever your poor virgin was, he or she was the genuine article—the thing sprang up to quite a height. But I'm sorry to report the damage was minimal; just a few broken panes of glass in the greenhouse, although it should make an interesting paper at the Horticultural Society's annual meeting next year. So kind of you to provide me with a topic.

Better luck next time, Gwennie. Do give my love to Roger, the next time you write him.

Cecily

Gwendolyn Pierce (nee Marsh), to Professor Cecily Howe August 16th

Dear Cecily—

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

You really are a terrible liar. Pretend all you want, you're not the only one with “sources.” The Thunder Plant destroyed your greenhouse and ate your stinky old Pekinese, along with most of your left hand and the gardener's son before you chopped it down. My “source” says the neighbors took your screams for an air-raid siren. How totally unladylike.

And just to let you know, Daddy has sent a telegram; he's VERY CLOSE to tracking down the counter-spell for that foul little tiki. And Roger and I are doing just FINE. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And you're right, I do write lovely letters, and it's very romantic, the way we talk to each other through our little notes. And we DO see each other from time to time, and Roger has actually lost his little tummy—not that he needed to, I thought he was perfect the way he was. But now he looks EVEN BETTER.

So HA.HA.HA. You horrible old thing.

Gwendolyn PIERCE

Professor Cecily Howe to Gwendolyn Marsh, August 15th

Gwennie,

Sticks and stones, my dear. Yes, it's true, your nasty little geranium on steroids made off with my sweet JoJo and Hector's little boy before we could bring it down. As for my fingers, the surgeon did a wonderful reconstruct. It's amazing what a talented doctor can do with good donor material.

On that subject, you'll be disappointed to hear that I've located your “source.” Hector was very happy to take care of that little problem for me. She never was a very good cook, though fortunately for me she did take very good care of her hands.

Speaking of small sacrifices, I've discovered the donor of the pure virgin heart you used to sprout your green monster. Really, Gwennie, your own stepsister? The poor child couldn't have been more than fourteen. Whatever will your father say when someone tells him? Why, he might be upset enough to call off his search for your cure. That would be a pity.

A word about Roger and his undying postal devotion; have you ever wondered what he's up to all day as you bend over your writing desk, declaring your endless love in rose-colored ink on scented paper? You might remember it was during my extended stay in the catacombs of Paris when you first caught Roger's eye. You were home recovering from our little adventure in the Necropolis, and he was only being kind, checking in on you. Every day. I wonder, who is he being kind to now? You should thank me, really, for your forced separation. Roger is very like an Impressionist painting—dazzling from a distance, but apt to cause headache on close examination.

We're having a memorial service tomorrow for JoJo and Hector's boy. I haven't sent you an invitation, but feel free to attend. I have a full-length yellow rain slicker you can borrow, to keep the menfolk from ruining your clothes.

And now, I believe it's my turn again, isn't it? You must be terribly bored, tucked away in that pokey little garret at the top of Roger's house. I'll have to see if I can't scare up something—or someone—to keep you company.

Cecily

Gwendolyn Pierce, to Professor Cecily Howe August 28th

You aren't nearly as clever as you think you are. I'm sure you think I'm upset, having my stepsister back. For your information, June and I get along QUITE WELL, even now that she's undead. She was VERY HAPPY to help me with the Thunder Plant, she knew how much it meant to me and I'm sure she even would have volunteered, given time to think it over. I just didn't have the time, was all, and so I just helped her help me, and she's FINE with that. So it's really very nice that you sent her back to me, and THANK YOU very much. Up until now I only had a picture of her from my wedding, in her lovely bridesmaid dress of chiffon taffeta to remember her by, and now she's right here with me, all the time.

Did you use some tacky necromancer to raise her? Or a wrinkled hag with a vulgar silk turban and scratched crystal ball? I hope it was expensive. You must be almost bankrupt by now, Cecily. I know you lost your teaching post after the newspaper printed those pictures of you in your nightgown, holding JoJo's head. It's sad really, your life is just falling apart, and here I am in my lovely room, with my wonderful, faithful husband writing me beautiful letters just all the time, and my devoted stepsister to keep me company every minute of the day.

I'm really very, very happy, and there's NOT ONE THING you can do about it. And it's my turn again.

Gwendolyn Pierce

Professor Cecily Howe to Gwendolyn Pierce, Oct. 31st

Delivered by Special Messenger

Well, Gwennie—

Very impressive. Ancient Egypt always was your favorite. Too bad the locusts decided to take matters into their own mouths, so to speak. Ancient curses can be quite tricky, one really must pay attention to detail. Shame about Roger's garden. I can't really blame him for moving out once he discovered the destruction of his beloved hedge maze was due to your mispronunciation of the hieroglyphic for
devour
.

And please accept my condolences; I'm so sorry your father's pilgrimage ended so badly. I had no idea cannibals were even still active in that part of the world. Except for dear, silent, mouldering June, you're quite all alone now, Gwennie.

I'll tell you a secret; I've been enjoying myself these past few months. There's nothing like a good scrap to get my blood going. You've proven to be a talented adversary, and as your teacher I'm really rather pleased with how well you've managed, devastated shrubbery notwithstanding. Now with JoJo gone and my position at the University terminated, I find myself at loose ends. I've decided to up the ante in our little game.

I'm taking a trip, Gwennie. It's a journey I've planned ever since my acquisition of a rather unique copy of
The Inferno
many years ago. Here's the really good news: you're coming with me. You'll be my companion again, my helper, my faithful, docile disciple. It'll be me at the tiller and you carrying the luggage, just like old times, before Roger came between us. You do know it was you I missed all along, don't you? Lovers come and go, but a competent assistant is hard to come by.

You may have noticed yourself feeling sleepy round about now. Please don't be alarmed. I've dusted this letter with a special concoction all my own, a mix of rare Amazon frog venom, powdered mummy, and cinnamon that should settle you down nicely until I arrive to collect you. I'm afraid June can't come with us—her virgin soul and all—so give her a kiss goodbye, and if you have the strength to write Roger one last loving floral-scented note, send him my regards. I wonder if he'll miss us. At least he'll have June to keep him company.

It's going to be like old times, Gwennie, just two girls out raising Hell. I can't wait to get started.

See you ‘round midnight.

Cecily

[Back to Table of Contents]

William Alexander
lives in Minneapolis with spouse and cat. His stories have appeared in
Zahir, Weird Tales,
and
Postscripts
, and one will be reprinted in
Fantasy: The Best of the Year
2008. He contributes to
Rain Taxi Review of Books.
In the summer of ‘06 he attended the Clarion Workshop. It was fun.

Miriam Allred
has a BA in Comparative Literature and French from Brigham Young University and an MA in English from Cleveland State University. She lives in Salt Lake City, near many supportive friends and family members, where she earns a living writing about routers and wireless networks. She also writes stories.

Charlie Jane Anders
blogs about science fiction and futurism for io9.com. She's the author of
Choir Boy
and the co-editor of
She's Such A Geek: Women Write About Science, Technology & Other Nerdy Stuff.
Her writing has appeared in
Mother Jones, Salon, Sex For America, Paraspheres,
and
MonkeyBicycle.
She's the co-founder of other magazine and the host of a reading series, Writers With Drinks, in San Francisco.

Gwenda Bond
is writing young adult novels on a tin machine that has no internet access. (gwendabond.typepad.com).

Becca De La Rosa
has recently had fiction published in
Strange Horizons
and the
Fantasy Magazine
anthology, among other places. She is currently studying English at an art college in Ireland.

Michael J. DeLuca
has published fiction in
Interfictions
and
Clockwork Phoenix
. He makes beer and other libations in Massachusetts.

Abby Denson
is a cartoonist and rock'n'roller in NYC. She is the creator of
Tough Love: High School Confidential, Dolltopia,
and
Night Club
, among others. She has scripted
Powerpuff Girls
and comics for
Nickelodeon
. She has webcomics on gurl.com and a dessert comic column, “The City Sweet Tooth” (citysweettooth.com) in
The L Magazine
. abbycomix.com

Kristine Dikeman
lives in NYC. Her work has appeared in
The Many Faces of Van Helsing, The Book of Final Flesh, Sybil's Garage
, and
All Hallows
. She is working on a novel,
Eating Manhattan
, a lighthearted romp through New York, with zombies.

Carol Emshwiller
's most recent books are a novel,
The Secret City
, and a collection,
I Live with You.
Recent awards include the World Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement. She lives in New York City.

Eileen Gunn
is the author of a collection,
Stable Strategies and Others,
and co-editor of
The WisCon Chronicles Two
. She is the publisher of the
Infinite Matrix
, and in the dead of night can hear it stomping around in the attic. For nearly 20 years, she has been on the board of the Clarion West Writers Workshop and she thinks it's time for someone else to take over.

Alex Dally MacFarlane
has been writing ever since the discovery of computer games made her think that if stories could be found on a 32-bit cartridge, why not in the mind of an 11-year-old girl? Her short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in
Electric Velocipede, Shimmer, Sybil's Garage, Farrago's Wainscot
, and a few other places. Her longer fiction is still being kick-polished.

Maureen F. McHugh
's most recent book is a collection of short stories,
Mothers & Other Monsters
. She writes novels and Alternate Reality Games. She lives in Austin, Texas.

Jeremie McKnight
was born under the restless skies of Ohio farm-country where he began his storytelling at an early age. By high school he was a published and award-winning author. And then he stopped. He now lives in Pittsburgh PA., and this is his first story in over a decade. It has made him very happy.

Mark Rigney
is the author of
Deaf Side Story: Deaf Sharks, Hearing Jets and a Classic American Musical
. His short fiction has appeared in
Shadow Regions, Talebones, The Bellevue Literary Review, Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine,
&c. His plays for the stage have won national contests and been performed in six states. Having worked as a zookeeper, he is now proud to be a stay-at-home father.

David J. Schwartz
is all around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes. Even between the land and the ship. His first novel,
Superpowers
, is in stores as you are reading this. He blogs at snurri.livejournal.com, and is allergic to midichlorians.

Cara Spindler
likes apples, broccoli, and eel, but hates ham and cantaloupe. She likes strolling, running, swimming—but hates to sit. And she still has five continents to visit before she dies.

Jodi Lynn Villers
has her MFA from North Carolina State University. She lives in downtown Raleigh with a beagle named Turtle and has written a novella about a rehabilitation camp for girls who have killed their parents. Her short-shorts have also appeared in
Staccato
and
Quick Fiction.

Caleb Wilson
's fiction has appeared in places like
Diagram, Weird Tales
, and
The Year's Best Fantasy & Horror
. He and his wife life in Illinois. His alter-ego works in a bookstore.