Photo credit: Jeswin Thomas via 


Jerome groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. How was he supposed to take over the underbelly of the supernatural world if he couldn’t scrape together enough money to get his name out there? Rubbing his temples, he factored in the men he was forced to call the help. The money wasn’t so much the problem as it was to find competent footmen.

Still rubbing his face in a futile effort to ease his irritation, Jerome grit his teeth and tempered his voice the best he could. The last thing he needed were three stooges stumbling over each other to appease his temper. “Tell me again what happened.”

“Right, Boss. We–“

“Not you,” Jerome lifted his head from his hands to stare pointedly at Elio, “We’ve all heard enough of your voice. Anyone else want to give it a try? It’s not hard.”

Elio quickly glanced to his left before he cleared his throat and shuffled forward. “Boss–“

“Elio, if the next words out of your mouth aren’t, just kidding, you’re sleeping in a metal box twenty feet underground. Sounds fitting for a summer sprite.” He leaned back in his seat once Elio seemed to get the message.

Elio wasn’t the type to backdown easily. None of them were. It wasn’t really in their nature. Nor was organizing under an old, forgotten demi-god but times were hard. The humans that did know about the thin veil that separated them from the supernatural were bent on either exposing or slaughtering everything that lived behind that veil. And the humans that were still ignorant, well, they were unknowingly making life behind the veil insufferable.

Most creatures had given up centuries ago. The ones who owed their existence to the elements gave themselves over while the ones who could only survive on belief faded away. Some purposely sought out others who could end their misery. Their tactics weren’t always straightforward which in turn led to a resurgence in fear of the unknown and multiple uprisings against the supernatural community but there wasn’t much anyone on the side of the veil could do. Those that did try usually ended up dragged out to their deaths or cursed.

It had been a week since Jerome thought of the history lessons his uncle used to drone on about in his drunken stupor. Times used to be far worse but, before then, things were good. They all prospered and Jerome found one important factor when he put it all together – Elio’s leadership.

“Your elfness . . .”

Jerome’s lip twitched and his gaze snapped to the smallest of the trio, Sage.

“. . . perhaps it is time for you to give this up. We know our promise binds us to you but–“

“But–” he started, standing up as he interrupted Sage’s all too familiar argument, “–I’m too young to worry about such things and we’re better off taking that witch up on her offer to turn us all human, right?”

The trio nodded. Sage, Elio, and Flint.

“And what about our parents?” One by one the bobble heads stopped their nodding. “It doesn’t matter that they died protecting the last ones to be born to the community, right?”


Nodding himself, Jerome rounded the coffee table to stand directly in front of the ones his uncle entrusted him to. So what if his dream was insane? If it meant seeing their kind, all of the ones left, survive and prosper once again then he’d do whatever needed to be done. “Go back out there and make sure they know the right amount. Every creature with the ability to turn a human and successfully does so will get five grand for his trouble. Now go. The Halloween is coming up and you know how easy it is to pick them off when they think we’re part of the fun.”


Author’s Note: It’s been some time, hasn’t it?
This will hopefully turn my trickle of creativity into a lively river.
Till next time,


© Maura D.,, 2018
Prompt Source: tehuti‘s 100 Writing Prompts