Micro Mysteries

The Town with No Children

~ Aria Klein ~ Leave a comment

Mikey hopped on his bike and rode as fast as he could from the new house he never wanted. His father’s new job stole his friends, his school, everything he loved.

This place will never be home. Mikey looked around the neighborhood as he rode. There were a few old neighbors in their gardens, staring with disdain at the whirring of his bike. But no kids. Not one.

No basketball hoops. No toys in yards or driveways. No sign of other kids anywhere. Just angry glares from adults, with eyes Mikey swore he saw glow.

Death by Chocolate

~ Aria Klein ~ Leave a comment

“That chocolate’s going to kill you some day.”

I still hear Betty’s words every time I reach for some. I’m not worried. I’m much healthier than my nag of a boss ever was.

They do say chocolate can be good for the heart. Maybe she should have enjoyed more while she still could.

Betty was right. Chocolate can kill. It must have shocked her in those final moments to realize she would become its victim — or of the rat poison it contained.

She should have kept her hands off my stash, and finally given me that raise.

Shaking the Family Tree

~ Aria Klein ~ Leave a comment

“I need your help with a school project,” said Sarah.

“Oh?” asked Ruth.

“I’m working on our family tree. Mom took me to the cemetery where your parents are buried so I could research dates.”

“I see,” Ruth muttered, hunching over Sarah’s binder of notes.

“I saw a grave for a little boy, only a few months old. His grave was next to your parents, and he had the same last name. Can you tell me anything about him?”

“Some things are best forgotten,” she said, slamming the binder shut and excusing herself from the table.

The List

~ Aria Klein ~ Leave a comment

“What’s this?” Maggie asked. “I wanted the blue bag. Why can’t you ever follow the grocery list?”

“I’ll go back,” said Rick.

“Forget it. I’ll go.” She stormed out, returning thirty minutes later.

“I made dinner,” said Rick. They ate his new recipe, chicken satay.

Ten minutes later Maggie grabbed her throat, struggling to breath. The whites of her eyes turned red, her skin pale. She stopped breathing. Rick cleaned up dinner before calling 911.

“Did she eat anything recently?” asked the medic.

“She just came home. Then she couldn’t breathe. Maybe she ate out.”

“Any allergies?”

“Just peanuts.”