A Glimpse of Paradise – Part 2 (SSC)

**If you’ve missed the first part of the ‘A Glimpse of Paradise’ – read it here.

Polly’s bitter assessment held true. When the doctor showed up, his diagnosis was as vague as frustrating. 

“We’re managing a host of symptoms. Re-hydration took care of blood pressure, seizing, and vomiting. The kidneys look bad. The underlying cause is unclear. Allergies, infections, drugs—”

“We’ve been through this!” Polly hissed. “Sera’s no junkie!”

The doctor ignored her. “We have nothing concrete yet, Mr. Roth, and need more information for precision testing. For now, it’s wide-ranging standard tests until something crops up that limits the parameters.”  

Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. As a brother, he’d dropped the ball. Whatever had happened to Sera was just another forensic puzzle. He knew how to solve those: intuition as to which details might prove relevant, straightforward logic, and the common investigation principles: identify, record, assess. If the doctors needed more information, he’d get them some. 

When the doctor had gone, he turned to Polly. “We need to retrace Sera’s steps. Last month to six weeks. Who she met. What she did, ate, drank. Where she was.”

Polly perked up at once. “It’s all on the social. Look it up.” 

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Wait, you don’t follow her?” 

Nathaniel ignored Polly’s horrified expression. He would not discuss his social media habits with an influencer. “No. I don’t that stuff anymore. So…?” he prompted. 

“She was at The Glimpse. A last-minute opportunity with this new jewelry brand, Body Armour. Impossible to pass up. I would’ve gone too, but I had that gig in Gibraltar.” 

“What’s The Glimpse?”

“Just the hottest location in the world. A secret Caribbean Island.” 

“Right. Then that’s where I’m going.” He pulled out his phone. If an answer was out there, he would find it. “Caribbean, you said. Which airport? San Juan? Havana?”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Nassau. But that will be the closest you get. The Glimpse picks up all their guests.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “A stack of bills will solve that issue—”

“No!” Polly threw up her hands. “You don’t get it, do you? The island’s location is the best-kept secret since…the Coca Cola’s original formula, maybe? It’s not a second FYRE Festival where everyone with a couple thousand bucks can buy themselves popularity by proxy.”

“Sat-nav geolocation says no place is secret once you’ve been there. I don’t see them taking influencers’ phones. So…”  

“Sera’s phone is locked,” Polly deadpanned him. “And no, I can’t unlock it.”

“Alright. Who else has been there?”

Polly snorted. “No influencer would risk blabbing. The Glimpse is exclusive. Invite-only. You need a sponsor, a model, and a photographer to qualify.”

Nathaniel paused, then smiled. “You’re a model, and I am a photographer. Sort of. So… who’s going to be our sponsor?” 

Thirty-eight hours later, Nathaniel and Polly sat at a diner outside Nassau Airport. They had both called in favors: Nathaniel with his fellow investigators, Polly with Rhingo Glasses, their new sponsor.  

They huddled over Polly’s phone, swiping through Sera’s profile. Promos and staged product placements alternated with more private pictures. Nathaniel focused on the latter category. 

Click: Sera and Polly in dirndl dresses at Munich’s Oktoberfest, drinking, singing, laughing.

Click: Arm in arm at the Eiffel Tower.

Click: Atop Grande Dune du Pilat, their mingled hair dancing in the wind. 

“Trekking up was hard,” Polly said, smiling. “Thousands of years’ worth of sand pulling at our feet, a free face exfoliation from the sand in the air. The view was worth it, though.” 

Ding! A notification interrupted her reminiscence. 

She checked it. “It’s from JC, Sera’s photographer,” she said. “Listen. ‘Hey, I can’t get ahold of Sera. BA is asking why she’s not posting/boosting. Get her on it ASAP! Hope it’s not the a pinkeye like mine that has her out. Talk soon. xo’ Man, I wish we just had to deal with a fucking pinkeye,” she huffed. Looking up, she added: “I haven’t told anyone about Sera’s condition.”

“Nobody’s business anyway, “Nathaniel said and drummed his fingers to the tabletop.” So, this JC guy uploaded pictures of Sera?”

Polly’s eyes went wide. “Damn, I should have checked their tag before. Of course JC and the sponsor posted something, even if Sera didn’t.”

She opened JC’s profile, and Nathaniel took it all in.  

Click: Sera in a wide shot, body wrapped in too little fabric and too much jewelry, her hair streaming behind her in the wind. 

Click: Sera stretched out near the surf, sand clinging to skin and metal alike. 

Click: Sera’s face in a close-up, eyes closed, lips sandy, tongue playing with a delicate silver chain. 

Nathaniel caught Polly’s eyes, his throat thick and dry. What if JC’s pictures were the last? What if the worst came to pass?

Up until four years ago, Nathaniel had enjoyed Sera’s profiles, had kept in touch with her. Before bed, he’d scrolled through the social media sites, smiling at pictures of her day’s activities. Then, Sera’s influencer career had gathered momentum, and the experience soured. 

Her feed became too good to be true, a picturesque mirage that—once one looked past the oversaturated color, the pushed contrasts, and the carefully cropped view—faded to what it really had been: a woman as genuine as a Barbie, hawking useless gadget to her followers. 

Nothing real. Nothing that could last.

Soon, he couldn’t bear looking at her over-processed images and sun-flared selfies anymore. He had felt sad for her. In retrospect, it seemed silly. Stupid even.

 Ding! Another notification made them both jump. 

“It’s Rhingo Glasses. The props delivery is five minutes out. After that, we have another hour until the guys from The Glimpse are due.”



Enigma (4/4)

** If you missed the previous part, please read it here: Enigma – Part 3 **
** If you want to start at the beginning, go here: Enigma – Part 1 **

Sidaniel emerged from the black portal coughing, exhausting billows of soot and acrid fumes.
“Blech!” he coughed as he looked about.

Ahead of him, a corridor stretched out into infinity. Two large signs advertised ‘Aura Disentanglement’ and ‘Ballast Lockers.’ Gidmihr studied the latter sign’s small print.

“Small storage boxes rent for one Silverbarter per two centuries: four per millennium. Pricey, but hey, it’s a monopoly.”

“How’s that relevant to our—”

“Bear with me.” Gidmihr sped down the corridor, trailing smoke. Sidaniel followed him past endless rows of storage lockers, most of them showing a red ‘occupied’ status light.

Here and there, a few green dots split the monotony; other status lights blinked yellow, indicating the imminent return of the stored ballast to its former owner.

Gidmihr stopped at a vacant locker. “Fun fact: Raph averages one intelligent and truthful sentence per day.”

“Intelligent and truthful?”

“Consistently. Today’s gem was ‘Time is a construct affecting only mortal minds.’” Gidmihr magicked four gleaming Silverbarters from thin air.

Sidaniel stiffened. “Where, in Judgement’s name, did you get these?”

Gidmihr glanced at the coins. “Can’t remember. Maybe I found them on the floor somewhere, sometime?”

“You expect me to believe you found not one, but four Silverbarters on the floor?”

“I said maybe.”


“Irrelevant,” Gidmihr snapped. “Now listen. The soul can’t go back. And it can’t go on. Agreed?”

“Not without major—”

“Bla bla bla. Whatever. That leaves one option, no?” He turned to the locker. “It. Needs. To. Stay.” With each word, Gidmihr fed a Silverbarter to the locker’s coin slot, and its door sprung open.

“Ohhh no. No. No. No. You can’t possibly lock a soul within a ballast box!”

Ignoring him, Gidmihr popped the sphere in the locker. “Sure can. See? Fits perfectly,” he said, motioning to the setup with a victorious gesture.

Sidaniel bristled. “Maybe you can. But you should not. This is torture of…unprecedented wickedness.”

“Aww, thank you, Sid!” Gidmihr beamed. “But, unfortunately, it’s not. Time exists, but—as Raph reminded us so eloquently today—only affects mortals. This soul isn’t mortal anymore. No pain, no foul. So, unless you have another plan…?”

“I….” A cold breeze seemed to graze Sidaniel’s arms, and he shivered. He had no different or better solution. He was, quite simply, out of ideas.

“Didn’t think so.” Gidmihr slammed the locker shut. The bang rang in Sidaniel’s ears. “Next payment is on you. I suggest you find yourself four Silverbarters. Tick-tock, tick-tock. A thousand years go by like this.” Gidmihr snapped his fingers, smirked, and vanished into smoky nothingness.

Sidaniel’s feathers stood on end as he watched the chaos agent’s fumes disperse. He felt weak inside, as if some part had been chipped off and was now forever lost. He had failed. Enigma or not, this soul deserved better.

Sidaniel raised his palm to the locker’s upper left corner. A blazing light erupted and when he withdrew his hand, an ornately calligraphed E gleamed there, its outlines slowly fading. For now, this was all he could do to recognize the special contents of this storage box.

“I won’t forget. I’ll do better,” Sidaniel vowed, and stepped into thin air.

After her theatrical departure, Angel Laquiela had shrouded herself into her strongest mirror mist and returned to watch her junior council members’ struggle.

The challenge mattered, even if the danger wasn’t real. The myth of an Enigma’s destructible force had been carefully cultivated for two reasons. One was to test an angel’s character before promoting them.

As expected, Sidaniel and Gidmihr had worked the case together, opposing allegiances aside. Of course, the solution they came up with weighed harder on Sidaniel. Laquiela wished she could ease his mind now, but each angel had to find their own path. At their own pace. She could only wait, patiently, for Sid to find her. She wasn’t concerned for Gidmihr. He had probably forgotten about the affair already.

After Sidaniel’s departure, Laquiela stepped from her mist and placed a hand over the E he had left behind. Its lines had faded but the conflict and pain remained. The locker door opened to her touch. Carefully, almost tenderly, she picked up the crystal ball.

“Welcome home,” she said, smiling at the face in the sphere. The appearance of an Enigma was the first event in a new angels’ origin, and it had been a long time since the last one. Raphizal had come out on the Netherworld’s side. Maybe this one would turn out differently. “Let’s get you to recruitment. I can’t wait to see you in your wings,” she said.

Before she left, Laquiela placed a solved puzzle cube into the locker and resealed it. In time, Sidaniel would know to find her.

Enigma (3/4)

** If you missed the previous part, please read it here: Enigma – Part 2 **
** If you want to start at the beginning, go here: Enigma – Part 1 **

Laquiela sprang to her feet, excitement bubbling up in her chest. Maybe this was it—the moment she’d been waiting for. 

Hastily, she wiped a blooming smile from her face and instead resumed a façade of outrage and dismay. Struggling, she closed her eyes, fanning herself with her wings. Now it was up to her to act accordingly, to keep up the Enigma myth. She couldn’t mess this up. She opened her eyes and glared at the three angels at the table.

Sidaniel sat straight as a rod, eyes wide. Gidmihr, still voiceless, had dropped the lighter with which he had been drying his goatee, while Raphizal had clamped down on his pacifier.

Her outburst had shocked them well enough. Now she had to set the final challenge for the two junior council members. And that didn’t include Raphizal. Unfortunately, the ever-so-polite and conflict-averse Sidaniel had failed to ever demand his removal. Laquiela suppressed a chuckle. Throwing him out now would only serve the setting of the challenge and help underscore her message.

She took a measured breath and glared at the unsuspecting Raphizal. “Out!” she said, pressing the word through clenched teeth.

Surprised, Raphizal grunted in dismay.

“Now.” She made a shooing motion. It came off just as imperious and dismissive as intended.

Raphizal threw her a filthy look, but he didn’t argue. He kicked back his chair and went poof in a smoky cloud that rained down gnawed-off fingernails, a pair of pink mittens and a soggy binky.

Laquiela drew herself up to her full height and spread her silver wings. The air sparked with small energy bursts. “Sidaniel, I’m disappointed you’d stir up such a fuss over a slightly challenging client. And you, Gidmihr, need to stop harboring grudges about Evo Last. Move on. I will hear no more whining about such cases!” She gave both angels the most piercing stare she could muster. “As for the new case, you both will settle by tonight. Or else!”

Not waiting for any reaction, she folded her wings around herself and vanished with a blinding crack of lighting.

Sidaniel smoothed static from his feathers while he blinked hard against the afterimage of Laquiela’s exit. As soon as the last sparkle in the air faded, Gidmihr’s voice returned. “Astonishing temper,” he said. “Maybe I ought to recommend anger management?” Then the tip of his goatee self-ignited with a muted ‘pop’.

Sidaniel sighed, the sound coming from so low inside his chest that he felt the vibrato in his wings’ tips. He was tired. He was shaken. And worst of all, he was out of his depth. “I can’t believe you brought up Evo Last.”

Gidmihr ignored the comment. “So, I assume we’re talking about an Enigma?”

Sidaniel shuddered, then nodded. “Soul leaks, mood cracks, continuity fissures. If half of it is true, we’ll be putting out fires all over the place.”

“We like fire just fine.”

“Stop joking! This is serious!”

Gidmihr chuckled and steepled his fingers. “But it’s the only way to make your proximity bearable. Also, I’m sure it’s not really an Enigma.”

“No?” Sidaniel plucked a crystal ball from thin air and put it on the table. Inside revolved the transparent projection of a middle-aged man. Soul 126. “Prove me wrong. Go on.”

“Ha! He must lean one side or the other. He’s old.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Right, then. How about petty theft?”

A flurry of words ran over the sphere’s surface. Gidmihr skimmed the text. “Found a lost wallet, kept a tenner. Voila! First question hits.”

“You missed a cross-link. There.” Sidaniel pointed to a paragraph near the end. “Involved parties met again two decades later. Supermarket checkout line; former victim was short a tenner; he helped out. Wouldn’t even hear about repayment.”

Gidmihr scratched his head with the knee of his left wing. “The early years then. All kids goof sometime. Bet he nicked apples. Pears?”

“Plums,” Sidaniel confirmed. “Neighbor’s tree. One hundred forty-eight, between age nine and seventeen.”

“I sense a ‘but’.”

“Aged eighteen, he planted his own plum tree. Neighbor’s tree got blasted by lightning. Fellow shares his plums. For free.”

“Let me guess,” Gidmihr drawled. “One hundred and forty-eight in total?”


“How about regular exercise? Excessive prayer? Polyamorous impulses…?” With each new attempt, more words ran over the sphere’s surface. Each time Sidaniel shook his head ‘no.’

“Blazes! Seems you’re right,” Gidmihr finally groaned. “Options?”

“I’ve been chewing on it for hours. I got nothing. If this Enigma were to enter any of the unearthly realms, I’d wager it would wreck the balance faster than a wrongly judged soul. The balance is incredibly delicate.”

Gidmihr’s goatee tip gleaming brighter. “Already up for a gamble, dear Sid? Quite the rapid moral decay.”


“Alright, alright. How about an RTS, say a miraculous revival? One more deed, and the matter is settled.”

Return To Sender is impossible.”

“Already been processed?”

“Cremated,” Sidaniel sighed. “But yes, if only he’d come here a week later, a day earlier… basically any other time.”

Gidmihr froze for the fraction of a moment. Then, a fiery spark sprang up in his eyes. “Another time, then. Come on, I know what to do.” He pocketed the sphere, grabbed Sidaniel by his robe, and pulled him into a smoke cloud.



This is the penultimate part of this story. What do you think will be the resolution?
Watch this space – I’ll be posting the ending this weekend.

Read the ending here!

A Glimpse of Paradise – Teaser (SSC)

The NYC Midnight SSC 2023 started on Jan 20th – the first round running for 8 days. If you want to see the prompt I got, read about it here. And as promised here, I’ll share a few snippets.


A forensic photographer who vehemently rejects all things social-media must team up with an influencer to find out what’s ailing his sister after her stay at The Glimpse, an invite-only island resort in the Caribbean.

Nathaniel Roth pressed his forehead to the glass pane separating him from his sister’s hospital bed and let the cold seep into his skin. The chill in the observation room did nothing to calm the questions whirling in his head like lost leaves on the wind. 

What on Earth had happened to his little sister? People in their mid-20s didn’t end up in the ICU for no reason. He knew in his gut that someone was responsible.

He turned at the sound of nearing footsteps, desperate for a doctor with good news or at least some answers. Instead, a young woman opened the door and gave him a quick once-over.

“You’re the cop brother?”

He nodded. “Nathaniel Roth.”

“Took you long enough to get here.”

Nathaniel’s inner photographer took her in the way he would catalog a crime scene.

Click. Tired eyes, handkerchief balled up in her fist.

Click. Crumpled dress, strap sandals, battered sling bag.

Click. Delicate features, messy long hair. 

She hadn’t slept or changed clothes since last night. Loyal friend of Sera’s.

“You’re the…roommate who called 911?” She held out a hand. “Penelope Machiello.” 

Nathaniel didn’t recognize the name—and Penelope noticed. “Does Polly Papillon ring a bell?”

It didn’t. “Ah, Polly,” he feigned recognition. 

Polly didn’t buy it. “Whatever.” She crossed the room and touched her hand to the observation window. “I found her crumpled on the floor, seizing every minute or so. Blood streaked vomit everywhere, her eyes rolling back in her head….” She turned away from Sera’s immobile form, eyes squeezed shut. “You have probably seen worse. But for me, it was so horrible. Ghastly!” 

Nathaniel made a noncommittal sound in his throat. Polly knew a lot about him, while he hadn’t been precisely involved in Sera’s life. Was Polly a close friend, a travel companion, or a co-worker? Did influencers even have co-workers? For him, the idea didn’t fit with an influencer’s MO: the relentless self-promotion, the jet-setting, the freeloading. Plane tickets, accommodation, promo gadgets. Everything was fair game if it came with a hashtag and an additional cheque. 

“I’ve seen some ugly scenes,” he volunteered. “But those were strangers. Anyway. What are the doctors’ plans for Sera?”

“The white coats know shit what to do!” Polly spat. 


Read the 2nd part here.

Enigma (2/4)

** If you missed the previous part, please read it here: Enigma – Part 1 **

Sidaniel had heard rumors about Enigmas, knew the theory as well as the whispered horror stories. But to see an actual manifestation? It had, quite simply, never seemed possible. Even now he was reluctant to share his suspicion. Once spoken, there was no taking it back. If wrong, he’d never hear the end of it. If right, it would be worse.

He tried again. “It’s an E—exception. A treat, if you will.”

“Sweet or savory?” Raphizal licked his teeth.

“I’m afraid he’s not talking about dinner, Raph, but a more metaphorical tidbit,” Gidmihr said.

“Shame.” Raphizal slouched back, ash-toned wings draped over his chair’s backrest. “I like sweets.”

Sidaniel’s under-feathers bristled, fluffing up his wings. He wasn’t in the mood for the duo’s antics. “Are you teasing me?” he asked sharply.

Raphizal jumped from his seat into a taut half-crouch. “Are we?” The air surrounding him flickered and rained soot flakes.

“Orrr—derrr…,” the Chairwoman drawled, attention still on her puzzle cube.

Gidmihr pulled is his protégé back onto the chair and left a calming hand his shoulder. A flame-red glint had come to the chaos agent’s eyes and his beard’s smoke turned a shade darker.

“Teasing? No. We’re accusing. I bet you botched the evaluation. Why else would you omit soul 126? This is like the Evo Last case all over again.”

“Nonsense. For one, I was ultimately right about Evo or we would have seen effects by now. And—”

Laquiela’s puzzle cube, one side solved, clattered to the table. “Stooooop it. Both of you,” she sighed. Then she pointed to the red-black flame that had burst from Gidmihr’s goatee. “Better watch it, Gidmihr. You’ll only trigger the sprinklers.”

Gidmihr’s gaze stayed fixed on Sidaniel. His goatee-flame blazed, licking with a steadily growing black tongue. “You are trying to rob us. Again!”

Angel Laquiela snapped her fingers. A water globule the size of a grapefruit appeared in front of Gidmihr and, correctly anticipating his evasive maneuver, exploded into his face. Defying physics, the water refused to splash all over the room. Instead, it ran in a merry rivulet down Gidmihr’s chin and drip-drip-dripped onto the table.

“Ewww.” Shuddering, Raphizal moved his chair over.

“That. Was. Unnecessary,” Gidmihr pressed out.

Laquiela eyed him with a mix of amusement and pity. “We are not revisiting the Evo Last incident. I settled that. Forget it.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid, Madam Chairwoman, that I don’t forget, much less forgive. This—”

“Enough. Take it up to appeals; this is the Last Judgement, not debate club.”

“And yet we’d all benefit from—”

Laquiela snapped her fingers again. Gidmihr’s voice cut out immediately, but he continued to mouth away. The chairwoman’s eyes sparked. “Five hundred seventy-seven years. Three investigations. No findings. It’s time to let it go.”

“Time,” Raphizal repeated, idly examining his fingernails. “Time is a construct affecting only mortal minds.”

“Be quiet, Raph,” Laquiela snapped.

Raphizal fell into a mutinous silence while Gidmihr proceeded with his outstanding red-snapper-pantomime. Ignoring both, Laquiela turned to Sidaniel. “You were saying?”

“Ahh…,” Sidaniel stuttered. He loathed bearing bad news. “Where was I?” he hedged.

“Sweets,” Raphizal prompted. Laquiela twitched but kept her eyes on Sidaniel.

“Right,” Sidaniel nodded. “Case 126. It’s nothing like Evo Last, I think. Not much room for differing opinions in—”

“Differing-shmiffering,” said Raphizal. He had started biting off his fingernails, spitting the half-moons to the side, then growing them back immediately to start over. Next to him, a carefully composed Gidmihr pressed water droplets from his goatee.

The Chairwoman rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers a third time. Raphizal found himself fitted with mittens and a pacifier, both in neon pink.

“Unacceptable,” he mumbled past his new accessory.

Laquiela picked up her puzzle cube, inspected one of its jumbled sides, then turned the cube’s top layer clockwise in a show of forced calmness. “Sid? What’s the trouble? Unsolved business with third-party entities? Aura entanglement, daemon possessions…? Spill it.”

“Uhm, it’s actually worse. It appears to be uhm—undetermined?”

Angel Laquiela froze mid-move. “Come again?”

“Pick anything. Kindness, truthfulness, courage, patience, wit, valor. Soul 126 is smack on the line in all categories. A solid grey. Even after hours of drilling down, I couldn’t find a smidge of green or red.”

An odd expression flickered over Laquiela’s face. Amazement? Agitation? Anger? Sidaniel couldn’t say…

“So, how did you judge?”

“I—I didn’t. Yet.”


Suddenly, the air was charged, and electric currents ran along Sidaniel’s wings. He swallowed hastily. “Meaning, I can’t very well send it anywhere. It might be an En—”

“SILENCE!” Laquiela thundered.


The penultimate part of Enigma is up. Read it here.


Part 1

After half an eon as a proctor for the Last Judgement Council, the angel Sidaniel discovered a gap in his supposedly infinite wisdom: disclose bad news to a superior right away—or leave the troublesome case for last?

Confident his divine insight would return just in time, Sidaniel walked into the daily council meeting, his summary report in speckless order. As tradition demanded, he went first, while the netherworld’s side had to wait their turn.

Working through his list, Sidaniel methodically listed each case’s judgement and additional honors. Soon, the offending case was only ten, then just two entries away. Sidaniel shifted in his seat. Where, in Judgement’s name, was that spark of enlightenment?

Uneasy, Sidaniel went on: “Case 124 was spiteful in her youth, downright vicious later. No redeeming actions. I sent her down to Terminal H.”

Sidaniel shuffled through his notes. One case remaining and no eleventh-hour epiphany in sight. “Case 125 was just as clear-cut and went the same way. Came in quite young after an unfortunate petty-theft-to-drug-cartel-muscle career.”

Suddenly pressed for a decision, Sidaniel found himself quite unwilling to discuss the troubling case—and skipped over it.

“Next came a good batch,” he said. “Numbers 127 to 159 passed well within green righteousness margins, two with outstanding merits. To those cases I awarded Silverbarters, three each, and they may off-load a proportional emotional weight in the ballast lockers before departing for—”

A laborious grunt interrupted Sidaniel and he looked up. Across the table at the Netherworld’s delegates’ side, the angel Gidmihr slouched in a chair. The tip of his carefully groomed goatee emitted its trademark curl of smoke. Next to him, the angel Raphizal had his left hand in the air. Upon Sidaniel’s pause, he raised his left wing as well, clearly hoping to underscore the urgency of his contribution.

Sidaniel glanced to the head of the table where the angel Laquiela, the Last Judgement Council’s chairwoman, sat in her elevated seat and fiddled with a jumbled puzzle cube.

The rules for the council were clear: one envoy for each side. This duo’s presence was egregious cheating, plain and simple. Laquiela should have thrown Raphizal out centuries ago, but all her attention was on that blasted toy!

  Sidaniel ruffled his wings, so the whispering feathers masked his sigh. “Why is he still here?” he asked, hoping the strain in his voice would register with Laquiela. “He’s not—”

“Now, now, dear Sidaniel! You know why.” Angel Gidmihr raised his hands in mock surprise. He pointed at a sticky note on Raphizal’s lapel. It looked on the verge of disintegrating and had TRAINEE scrawled on in faded, barely decipherable script. “Raph is my apprentice.”

“For two millennia?”

Gidmihr’s eyes narrowed, and his smoldering goatee emitted a volley of sparks. “Training on the job is vital. You of all people should know that. Without it, Raph could easily screw up a judgement. And then where would we be?” He licked his finger, smothered an ember flake on his robe’s cuff, and turned to his protégé. “No need to put your hand up, Raph. You had a question?”

“He skipped 126.”

“Not a question, but an excellent observation, Raph. Excellent indeed.” Gidmihr tapped his fingers on his pursed lips in an almost convincing show of concern. “Odd thing to do. Care to enlighten us, Sid?”

Sidaniel blinked, his mouth open as though an explanation might roll out of its own accord. When it didn’t, he snapped it shut. Alright! Next time, he would lead with the…difficult cases. Before he could collect his thoughts, Gidmihr went on.

“Granted, I’ve been there myself,” Gidmihr said, his black-rimmed eyes full of gleeful malice. “A little shuffle and boom! – a virtuous deed, a merit, a whole entry goes missing.” He twirled his goatee’s wisp of smoke around a finger and flicked it across the table like so much gossamer ribbon.

Sidaniel, nose pinched, fanned the air until the sulfurous smoke dispersed. “Nothing is missing. Case 126 will be last today. It’s a special soul, most likely an En—,” he choked on the word that had been haunting him since this case had come to his desk.



Read the next part here: Enigma 2.

NYC Midnight SSC – The Submission

for the first round IS DONE!

And it wasn’t even a last-minute submission either. I didn’t have to pull an all-nighter, even though it took me quite some time to actually get started on writing.

Somehow, the 48h timeframe with last year’s FFC put me on the spot and I got the stories out fast – with 8 days to go, I seemed to lack the motivation to even start in the first days.

But anyway, now it’s done and submitted and all I can do is wait.

As always, I’m trying to not get my hopes up in terms of advancing to the next round. With the FFC, every participant got to do the first 2 rounds, regardless of their placement in the first challenge. But with the SSC, I would need to be among the best 5 in my group to advance – and that’s a high bar.

I’ll share snippets and the synopsis with y’all at a later time. Promised!

SSC – The Prompt

Today is the day – the challenge starts and the prompts are here. This is what I got:

Just like last year’s Flash Fiction Challenge (FFC), I’ll be writing a Mystery. Whelp!

With the FFC, writers got Genre, Location, and Object as a prompt. Now I got Subject and Character? Uhm… I didn’t expect that.

I better read up on how to use those in the story, so I don’t run into problems.

The Challenge will run for 8 days (20th to 28th midnight NYC time) so I got until Monday 29th 6am (due to time zone difference) to get something to paper that fits.

Everyone, wish me luck!


Here are the statistics for this year’s SSC:

So many writers from all over the world!!! Happy to be part of this and the amazing writing community.

Short Story Challenge

Last year, I participated in NYC Midnight’s Flash Fiction Challenge. I didn’t expect to get far when I started, flash fiction being a new kind of writing for me. (In general, I’m an over-writer, so flash fiction didn’t seem to be the best fit for me…)
BUT, surprisingly, I made it as far as round 3 of 4 – finishing 4th and with honorable mention in my group in round 3.

NYC Midnight holds other challenges during the course of a year. Upcoming right now at the start of the year is the Short Fiction Challenge – and of course, I signed up! The challenge will start in only two days’ time.


(Secretly dreading that I will get a bad genre because I have been so lucky so far.)

I’ll yet y’all know what I got to work with once I got my prompt.

NYC Midnight FFC – it’s over!

So, the results are in & I will not advance to the final round. Booooh!

But, I’m not super sad about it, because 1) it was my first time participating at all; 2) I made it this far despite writing my a second language, and 3) I finished round 3 on 4th place, one place short of advancing – getting the first honorable mention in my group.

The full synopsis of Do No Harm

When a cruel captain kills Kip’s friend, the med-tech cyborg needs to find a way past his hardwired Do-No-Harm subroutine to avenge the death and liberate his cyborg crewmates.