M of Witches Town @signalstation@witches.town

Thanks to everyone for following a year's worth of my witch-themed microfiction. As this instance sinks into the swamp, please note you can find me over at a.weirder.earth/@signalstation where I'll continue to write the sort of nonsense that used to be found right here.

YARD SALE
Just selling a few things that are starting to clutter the ol' hut. Make an offer

The Mask of Trees - Helps you blend in with trees, make friends with trees, seduce a tree's tree-wife.

The Mask of Illusion - Makes you think you can look like anyone, but that's an illusion. You look like an idiot in a mask that's got no eye holes.

A pile of masks - I forget what these do. Probably cursed.

Even more masks - You know what? I thought I had a problem with clutter but I think it's just these masks, reproducing. Rubbing their fake faces together and breeding.

Come get a mask. Cheap.

tired: replacing your head with a wasp's nest and all your thoughts with the angry rustling of paper

wired: replacing your head with a bee's hive and all your thoughts with the slow drip of honey

4 of the Biggest Myths About Pregnancy and Childbirth

1) You can always tell if your child is destined to overthrow you. Honestly, most soothsayers make this call based on whether you act like a jerk when you ask about what forces threaten your kingdom. Always tip!

2) Playing music for a baby makes it smarter. Nope! Not with your musical taste, poseur.

3) The fae want to swap a mushroom baby for your child as soon after birth as possible. Actually, the fae are quite patient and have even replaced teenagers!

4) They only let experts write these articles for mothers. Actually, any idiot can just write anything.

15 Weird Things That Are Making You Anxious

1) That strange figure standing among the fruit trees, just there. Can't you see it? When the lightning strikes, briefly?

4) The unknown fate of numbers 2 and 3.

5) The known fate of numbers 7 through 10.

11) Life's fleeting nature. Every bird and bug, every enemy and friend, just ripples on water.

12) The taste of your own tongue. It curls back. What are you?

13) The crying sound the number 8 makes. But it's just looking for attention. QUIET DOWN, 8!

14) Lists from health/beauty magazines that make you think your life could be better if you just read one more list.

15) Capitalism.

6 Tasty Ways to Hide Vegetables in Your Favorite Foods

1) Find a young orphan vegetable. They're pliant and learn fast. Teach it the art of camouflage. How to be still. To mask its scent. To distract. If you see it, strike it, until it learns you will only love it when you think it's gone. Its desire to please the only source of love in its life will drive it to perfection.

2) Shape a vegetable into a spoon or fork! Use it to shovel melted cheese into your face. More! MORE!

3) In the pale moonlight, cut a bouquet of Maiden's Wort. Cure it in otter bile. Consult TANFORTH'S FOLLY vol. 3 pp. 18 and cast INVISIBILITY FOR BEETS.

4) Wrap 'em in bacon.

#introductions

I have no incentive not to lie to you. I live in a shack, in a bog, but the wifi is good. It's fueled by despair, which I get piped in from the orphanage. Most of the entries in my spell book are spells that make it so I don't have to get up and do things. My hobbies include failing to solve the riddle of Parhthatus (and suffering the subsequent skin burns), teaching homunculi to swim, reversing the positions of my left and right eyes (doesn't help) and writing short fiction.

...

FULL E3 TRAILER: 'FAMILY FUNERAL' [4K HD] 3:02

Either in Story Mode, or with a party of friends, take a journey of discovery into a high definition world never before experienced on your console or computer!

Select your character and perks, then navigate a family funeral, marking relatives for sympathetic comments, nodding knowingly at anecdotes and racking up points by handing facial tissues the bereaved.

Metacritic: 82
Redleaf Funeral Home: "It's... accurate."

COMING FALL 2018: GRAVESIDE SERVICE [DLC $14.99 (preorder discount)]

4 Worries People With Anxiety Have When a Friend Doesn’t Text Back

1) Their offering to the bog witch was insufficient. Even know, their mouth is filling with mud, their gift-- maybe a $10 iTunes card?-- chucked under the roots of a mangrove, a crone's cracked heel on their back, pushing them down into the muck. Bog witches prefer physical media!

2) Our friend's phone is possessed. An 18th century dandy has entered it by mistake, distracted by its bauble-esque qualities. S/he knows nothing of texting!

3) Did we text the wrong person?

4) Our friends don't exist when they're not physically present. This entire world is an illusion. Or their phone died?

Is this you?

YOU: My inbox is full of junk email, mundane notes from my estranged family, and fundraising letters! If only I could set my inbox alight so that the flames could give me a joy that currently escapes me!

Fret no more! (And don't burn your inbox!)

Now, you can subscribe to the LOST TIME INCIDENT, a newsletter from yours truly full of short fiction and assorted nonsense.

YOU: That must cost a fortune. I will sell my organs to the rich, prolonging their life and helping me to acquire this source of joy.

No need, friend! It's free!
tinyletter.com/signalstation

Pity the poor Australopithecus ghost, stuck in a loop of regret and unfinished business, walking the paths it walked in life which are now sadly dozens of feet under new sediment, a haunting witnessed only by tunneling creatures with dim eyesight and no sense of the wonder.

You may dislike the President, but I admire his form. Not many people know this, but he's made from a single sheet of flesh, carefully folded and crafted by a talented Flesh Origamist. If you were to unfold him, he would stretch halfway to the moon, which would be a good start, especially if it's the further half away from us.

A million angel chorus, singing full-throated for aeons, but if you could record it, and could play it back at a faster speed, it would resolve itself: The words "I'm soooo booooored" repeated in slow variations, lazy chords weaving in and out, over an over eternally.

You, a buzzard-brained fool: "I hope to one day join the Mile High Club."

Me, a genius: "If I ever have sex, I know that all time & space are relative and as such I'm light-years 'higher' than galactic objects in every direction!"

That look when your feline companion starts wondering if you're exploiting them on social media.