New Urban Fantasy Fiction - including The Silence of the Yams

Two glorious pieces of urban fantasy now. The first story by Jessica Kormos – The Silence of the Yams – has a wonderful pun for a title and goes to ask whether vegetarians are really all that innocent? Jessica’s work has appeared on The Drabblecast and she is a 2014 graduate of Viable Paradise XVIII. Our second story – The Prize by Dean Turnbloom – is a dark tale about a small town mystery and how one nine-year-old deals with it. As it happens, in that pragmatic way nine-year-olds always do. Dean has been published previously in webzines Nth Degree and Death Head Grin. He’s also had two novels published – Sherlock Holmes and the Whitechapel Vampire + Sherlock Holmes and the Body Snatchers – both of which have some connection to horror fiction. He is also the editor of BECY 2014 and the Prizewinning Political Cartoons series.


The Silence of the Yams
by Jessica M. Kormos


The fava beans quivered in their plastic bag prison, and the onions and bell peppers huddled closer to them for warmth. The vegetarian mistress of murder left neither carrot with intact skins, nor any cabbage whole. Despite their attempt to hide in the back of the bin, the yams had been unceremoniously taken away just a few moments ago. By the time the remaining vegetables adjusted to the piercing white light that blinded them through the open door they were sunk once more into blackness, the drawer slid neatly into place. The yams, a lovely couple from a farm in Iowa, were gone.

The vegetables inched backwards as they heard the soft thwack, thwack as a knife struck a whetstone, seeking a hiding spot that was no longer there. If the slayer of the salad was sharpening her knives, it could only mean that they were approaching the time of The Great Purge.  Everything must go to make room for a new batch of helpless vegetable victims. Just yesterday it had been easy to hide amongst the broccoli and the beets, but they had been sacrificed to this chef's insatiable desire for produce.  

A sudden pop and the vegetables were once again surrounded by blinding light. Annabelle Lecter opened the vegetable bin roughly, bouncing the onions off the bell peppers and sending them twirling across the floor.  She grabbed the bag of fava beans and carried them to the counter next to the remains of the yams. They had been skinned; their bright orange flesh lay exposed on the cutting board. The fava beans began to tremble, and like atoms packed tightly together, each adjacent bean took up the shuddering of its neighbor. Annabelle smiled ruefully as the bag shook in her hand and she plucked out one of the fava beans. To the horror of its brethren, she snapped off the end. "I think you would taste nice with tofu and a glass of Chianti," she said. The other fava beans were beheaded in turn and added to the steaming skillet on the stove. It wasn't long before the vegetable bin was empty; the bodies of the diced onions and peppers covered with oil and unceremoniously sautéed for her pleasure.

Annabelle took a bite, savoring her meal, wondering which she enjoyed more: the weekly cleanout of her fridge or the anticipation of the new set of victims available at her local farmer's market.



The Prize
by Dean P. Turnbloom


The Bodecker's have run the soda shop on Gibson Street for as long as I can remember. Of course, even if that were my whole life it would only be nine years. Still, I like them, especially Mrs. Bodecker. She’s pretty and nice, despite what my mom and aunt say about her. She always puts a little extra in my bag whenever I go in and buy penny candy. She has the prettiest smile, with her golden tooth resting beside the chipped one.

It’s been nearly three weeks since anyone has seen Mrs. Bodecker. She ran off with Carl, the delivery guy for Wilson's Confections. Mr. Bodecker says she's gone to visit her mother in Schenectady, but I know the real story. I heard mom talking about it. "What anyone could ever see in that snaggle-toothed little hoor is anybody's guess," mom told Aunt Lucie.

I don’t know what a hoor is, but it ain’t good. "And Carl was such a nice-looking man, too," Aunt Lucie said. "Oh well, there's no accounting for taste, they say."

Then mom laughed and said, "Ain’t that the truth, if beauty's in the eye of the beholder, that Carl must be nearly blind." Then they laughed together and I lost interest as they went off on another topic. But I still like Mrs. Bodecker all the same. 

I went to their little shop today, just like most days, hoping Mrs. Bodecker would be there to put a little something extra in my candy bag. But today Mr. Bodecker was in the shop alone again so I put my penny in the slot of the glass gumball machine instead. Mr. Bodecker wasn’t as generous as his wife and the gumball machine boasts Gum & a Prize with Every Turn. So I thought that might be just as good as getting something extra from Mrs. Bodecker. 

I cupped one hand beneath the mouth of the dispenser and with the other turned the crank all the way round and then lifted the door to claim my prize. I put the gumball in my mouth, cracking the candied outer skin as I chewed. Then I took the tooth and looked at it before slipping it into my pocket. It was the third one this week, and this one was chipped. On my way out of the shop, I looked up at Mr. Bodecker behind the counter and smiled, but he only stared back at me, his left eye twitching.  I thought for a moment about telling him the tooth was chipped, but decided against it. Maybe next time I’ll get the gold one.