Kahlo and the Broom Behind the Door: a micro-flash fiction

I’m not used to peaking behind half-opened doors.  Instinctually, I close such doors…firmly.  By the time my name is uttered, usually feebly, closing the door is an act of mercy.

But, wonder of wonders…miracle of miracles, step number 36 was destined to be different. This time my name, K-A-H-L-O was spoken from behind such a door.  It was Hicksie who summoned me. Hicksie is the familiar of a Daughter of Hecate. Hicksie is a broom.

Animation is relative.  What is animate in one world that I step to, may be inanimate to another.  I don’t judge.  I help.  The door opens wider, I’m big. But then, size too is relative.

The first sound I hear is that of bristles across wood, rhythmic and scratchy. “I have uttered so many names…so many warnings,” the dusty voice mutters. “Only you came, Kahlo.”  This humbles me. I never feel as though I have a choice when called. My name is spoken, and I step.

I want to soothe Hicksie’s worries, yet the situation is dire. Hecate’s daughter was being tempted to concede her powers. No amount of spells and incantations would impinge upon the inevitable outcome. The battle was being waged within.  But I was there for Hicksie.

“Hicksie, it’s Samhain night.  Let us fly.”  A bare distraction, I confess.  Still, sometimes what begins in amusement, ends in vindication.  Hicksie is in agreement.  I hear the straw ends of broom bristles, graze across the floor.  The door opens wider.





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