Tiny Story 02.24.2025

The Hierophant sat, keys in hand. She stared at the sea of forsythia surrounding her domain. Others suggested she raze the yellow flowered shrubs to the ground. She appreciated their hardiness and tenacity.

The house was an unusual shade of grey. It was almost green and your eyes slid off it. The house was nearly invisible because of it and that was exactly the way she wanted it.

The realtor supervised as a worker pulled the for sale sign out of the ground and threw it in the back of a truck. Then they both climbed into the truck and drove away with a forced cheerful wave. Hiero smiled as they left and as soon as they were out of sight, she dropped the fake smile.

The key fit into the lock but it was a struggle to get it to turn. She added it to her mental to do list and gave the door a hard shove. The key turned finally and she turned the doorknob. The door swung inwards and the scent of loneliness wafted out.

This little house had sat alone for over a year. The house spirits were withering in the corners. Hiero fished the little jar of cinnamon from out of her massive purse and got to work. She began singing and sprinkling the cinnamon in every corner of the house. It didn't fully wake the spirits of the house, but it made them sleepily curious. Finally Hiero sat down at the tiny kitchen table with the two rickety chairs that the sellers had left behind. It was all the furniture she owned and she was grateful for even that much. She pulled a water bottle and a small bowl out of her purse. She poured water into the bowl and set it at the place across from where she was sitting. She pulled a small tea light out of her purse and set it on the center of the table. She lit it and said, "For you. For us. For we. May our coexistence benefit us both."

A tiny draft tickled the ends of her hair and she took it as acceptance. "Thank you." Hiero stood up and went out to her car. She grabbed the twin blow up mattress she had just purchased that morning, her suitcase, and the paper bag of household supplies. It took her barely twenty minutes to hang her clothes in the closet on stolen dry cleaner hangers. The air mattress was made up and covered with her small pillow and two blankets. She was so grateful she almost began to cry. She'd wanted a place of her own for so long it had felt impossible but now she was finally home, at 247 Oleander Street.

Word Ticket Prompts:

• The Hierophant

• Unusual Gray

• Table

• Forsythia

• Deep Sea Dive

• Oleander

Copyright 2025 Klaudia Grady