"When she remembers me, I'll be alive again."

"If she remembers you."

Good Habits

For the most part, trying to master any skill starts with carving out time to practice. On top of that, it's about finding slivers of opportunity in which to practice even more. 

Waiting in line at the grocery store? Discreetly check for security cameras. Most big stores have them everywhere, but what you want to do is learn to spot them without looking like you're trying to find them. 

If you're waiting for the barista to call your name for your coffee, scan the other customers as they go up ahead of you. You're looking for any obvious weak points. A limp. A cast on an arm or a wrist. Hearing aids or glasses with the thick, convex lenses that indicate farsightedness. A lot of people hold their car keys while they wait so you can get an idea of the make of their vehicle. With practice, you may even learn to tell what model. Again, discretion is key. Don't try to look like you're not looking. It's normal for people to look up at a loud noise, sudden movement, or someone shouting a name. Glance over like a normal human being, than return to what you were doing. Hold that image in your mind, that snapshot, and run your scan. 

And don't ever pretend to do something else while you look at the person. If you ever see someone looking at you while they're simultaneously doing something else, they're either a cop or a serial killer. Best to just pretend you didn't notice them surveiling you and proceed as normal until you can get out of their line of sight. Corners are good. Get around the corner, and then walk briskly, like you're an important person and you're late for a meeting. Do not run. Running is suspicious. Do not look back to see how close a pursuer might be. If they catch you, you'll know. 

Nowadays, it's suspicious to not have a cell phone, so bring a phone that isn't activated anymore, (maybe purchased with cash at a pawn shop) and fiddle with that while you hunt. 

Don't bring your actual phone; it will ping your location when it connects to cell phone towers. If the police try to connect you to the last known location of the trophy, that's the first thing they'll check. It'll show you were home, and if they're typicals, they'll just move on to the next suspect. Might be tricky if somebody calls or texts during that time and you didn't respond. But it's probably fine. Nobody ever calls you anyway. 

Fortune favors the prepared, and good luck is the residue of good planning. Remember, wherever there are people, there is the potential to be practicing. 

Happy Hunting. 

THE END

little curses

Welcome to my magic shop! Now, I imagine that like every new customer, you would like to jump right to the big stuff, and want to look at the spells that will summon tornadoes of living flame, pull the moon down from the sky, or sink entire continents into the sea.  

There is rarely a practical reason to do any of those things, and even if there were, I've met very few who could actually afford it. 

I would direct you, instead, to our fine selection of curses. Surely there is someone who has wronged you and who, while perhaps not deserving of death, needs a little less happiness in their life. 

Allow me to show you a few of them, to give you a general idea. Yes, they all have "official" names, but they're stupid and only hint at what they do. I prefer to list the descriptions.

Every sound they hear will be either too loud or too quiet, whichever is most inconvenient.

Every shower or bath feels freezing. (If it's hot enough to burn them, they will feel that so they can avoid injury; we're not monsters.)

Their breath will smell like a rotting yak, but only to themselves. They will always smell it when they open their mouth, and other people won't notice at all but they will feel like there's no way they don't and think they're just too nice to say that they reek.

Every stoplight they approach will be red. 

Whenever they are out alone at night, they will see an ominous moose in the distance, heading slowly in their direction. 

Their shoes will be always feel too big. 

Oh, and here's one of the cruelest ones, in my opinion:

All animals will dislike them, even their own pets. 

We can also customize them! One devilish girl was in yesterday and who wanted a curse that would make someone's boss be an incessant micro-manager, while ensuring the boss would never actually understand the tasks themselves. That was a tricky one, and it will only work while the person is under that specific boss, but honestly it is deliciously fiendish and I'm rather ashamed we didn't think of it ourselves. 

Now, what can I get you? 

THE END

The Fishing Hamlet

He was the only one left in his tiny fishing village that was still human. He had been away, over at one of the much larger, more prosperous towns scattered across the countryside, attempting to sell his meager catch of some herring and a few small cod, and by the time he returned home the next day, at dawn, everyone in the tiny fishing village had disappeared. 

The dozen little homes built around the small inlet were still, lifeless. The shutters were all fastened. The fishing boats were still tied to the docks, and despite the light dusting of snow on the ground, no smoke rose from any the chimneys. 

He had entered his home in a daze. His wife and child were gone. There were no signs of violence. 

He had checked the rest of the houses. All the same. Nothing out of place. It's as if everyone had just walked into the ocean. 

He had fallen asleep that night, somehow. When he awoke, there was a piece of paper on his chest. It read: "Sell the fish. Return with the money." It was in his wife's handwriting. 

He stepped outside and his horse was waiting there, hitched to the wagon. In the back of the wagon was a large crate. He looked inside, and there, packed in snow, was a massive bluefin tuna. 

Not knowing what else to do, he did as he was instructed, and went to nearest town. 

That single fish sold for more than he usually made in a year. He brought all the money back, and left it on the kitchen table. 

And so it went. Every morning, he would awaken to find valuable and exotic fish packed neatly in his wagon, and he would sell them and return with the money. Every night, he was coming back with wealth beyond his wildest dreams, but he only felt the numb confusion and terror one feels only in nightmares. 

The notes, still in his wife's handwriting, would occasionally instruct other things.

He purchased land, and over time, built a grand estate on it. The agents who came to update him on the progress were baffled by this rough, sullen man in simple clothes who lived in a weathered cottage being the one in charge of and financing such a grand project. 

He had tried to leave, once. He had awoken at dawn, and ridden his horse until it collapsed from exhaustion, and then he ran and ran until his legs gave out. He fell asleep under a little copse of trees. 

When he awoke, he was back in the fishing hsmlet, in his own bed, There was another note. It read: "No."

Last I heard, the man was still working to maintain and expand that incredible mansion that he'll never actually see. And that's just one of the ways vampires make their money. Perhaps you're working for one, too. There may be no way to know for sure, anymore. You could try running away, if there's still anywhere left to run to. 

The End

Note: I was literally falling asleep at the end at I threw on this ending so that I would be furious enough to change it later. It was either this ending or "it was all a dream" but even I'm not that cruel.