I have a new old flash fiction piece I’d like to share with you. It failed to find a home at magazines after a few close but not quite submissions. I still like it, though, which I can’t say about many of my stories from back then; as I’m writing it’s turning three years old (yeah, stacking rejections takes a while). So I hope you will enjoy it too.
Dear Gerald,
I am sorry it had to end this way. I truly am. A breakup should always be carried out in person, but every time I built up the courage to sit down and take the talk with you, you always found a way to change my mind in an instant. Honestly, I suspect you have been using some sort of spell or love potion on me.
I have sent the potted plant you gave me along with this letter since it seemed like a rarity and something that might have cost you a lot of money — or whatever you use for payment down there. I know I was the one who wished for flowers, but I figured you might buy me roses or a mixed bouquet or something, not a six foot tall bloodthirsty, sentient palm from the depths of hell.
I know you did your best to make this work, and it was really sweet the way you insisted on sharing all your passions and favorite pastimes with me. But really, there is a limit to how many weekends in a row a girl can endure watching all the Harry Potter movies without losing her sanity. To you it might be a socio-realistic drama depicting the atrocities magical beings suffer at the hands of wizards all over the world, but to me it is just a good story — or at least it used to be.
Honestly, I cannot see how it could ever have worked between us. We have nothing in common, and let us face it: we are literary from different worlds.
The only reason our relationship has lasted this long is because I felt I owed it to you to give it my best shot after having dragged you all the way up here — which, by the way, was not even my idea. See, Janice and I got a bit tipsy one day, and when she suggested the ritual, I thought it was a joke. I mean, who has ever heard of a love demon? When you popped out of the pentagram in my apartment’s hardwood floor, accepting your advances seemed like the decent thing to do.
Well, there you have it Gerald. I hope you do not take all this to mean there is something wrong with you. You are a great guy, and some day you will make a female demon very happy. I wish the very best for you and hope you will not carry a grudge.
But if you do, know that the pentagram has been scrubbed off and I have decided to decorate every corner of my apartment with protective runes from every conceivable book on magic.
Best wishes,
Hanna.
Toby Backman 