Over on my sister blog, a little flash fiction. Enjoy.
I recently traveled to London with my daughter and one Saturday night we went to a concert at O’Meara, a newish venue in a small street with a church directly opposite. As we stood in line I kept looking up at part of the stone wall surrounding the church and I swore I saw a carved face in it, though my daughter couldn’t see it.
Later in the evening I ducked out of the concert for a breather and sat in the corner of the bar drinking a cider and scribbled this little piece of flash fiction on a napkin.
by Debbie Manber Kupfer
Seamus O’Meara was a gargoyle now, and he hated every minute of it. Not that he had any choice. His dad had been a gargoyle as had his grandfather, great-grandfather and all his ancestors from back in the realms of history where the O’Mearas had…
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