“Ink Calls to Ink” by Nathan Crowder

December 20, 2008


Modern London is no place for a Fictional Personae down on his luck. Forgotten, homeless, and barely scraping by, there is only one person a steadfast soldier can turn to for help when a dangerous enemy comes calling. But this fellow refugee from the lands of fiction may just be a cure more deadly than the poison. (25min)

An excerpt:

Some twenty feet down the narrow alley lay the corpse of a tiny woman. No more than two feet tall, she was anatomically perfect or had been until she had been torn apart and partially consumed. Her still-perfect face stared at the one-legged soldier with a look of glassy contempt. He felt her accusation settle deep into his gut. She couldn’t have known he was right around the corner. And even if she had, the soldier knew she wouldn’t have expected him to help. But still, he recognized her and felt guilt for not doing something.

Thumbelina was an Anderson, after all, like the match girl and the mermaid, and himself. Ink calls to ink. He thought long and hard, remembering his training. It had been so long ago and in an entirely other place. His eyes turned to the brick of the alley floor and took in the bear prints. Three sets – one too big, one too small, and one – well, not just right, certainly. There was nothing right about this at all.

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