Unholy Trinity: Fun & Games by Elizabeth A. Allen
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
Pursuit
“Where’d he go?” Avé cried. She and her fellow Elder Witches Max and Min arrived at the Carver’s toy store to find only the people he had turned into dolls.
Min indicated the dolls. “They know. If we could undo his spell—”
Avé thought quickly. “I’ll try my healing magic. Being shrunken and paralyzed is a kind of injury….”
Gathering her concentration, Avé wove spells of mending around a doll.
The figurine stirred, becoming a full-size person. “Hurry,” she gasped. “He took Max to his studio.”
Avé set her jaw. “That’s it. I’m cutting the Carver down to size.”
Confrontation
Max lay bound and unconscious on the Carver’s worktable.
“I’ll do to him literally what he did to me figuratively,” sneered the Carver, preparing to transform Max into a figurine. “He always was so small-minded.”
“This’ll be child’s play,” Avé muttered.
Min sang some scales.
The Carver laughed. “Your music powers won’t stop me. I have the power of true names, and you shall never know mine!”
“Oh yeah? There’s more than one way to box a doll,” Avé replied.
Min launched a single knife-like, enchanted note. The Carver’s heart burst.
“Don’t toy with Elder Witches,” Min advised the corpse.
Aftermath
“Damn,” said Avé. “You still play with your dolls after the Carver almost turned you into one?”
With delicate strokes of a fine brush, Max painted eyelashes on a miniature head. “I find it a tranquil divagation.” But he sighed, for his adventure still weighed heavily upon him.
Min thrust a package into Max’s lap. “Here’s a little something to cheer you up.”
“We know you prefer to make your own,” Avé added, “but you’ll like this one. He’s fun-size!”
Max unwrapped the package. It was a box labeled Inaction Figure, holding the shrunken, magically preserved body of the Carver.
Elizabeth A. Allen
Elizabeth A. Allen lives, writes, and plays with dolls in Vermont. Her fiction has been published in Cunning Linguists, We?re the Weird Aliens, and Master Works. Her nonfiction has appeared in Outside In Regenerates, Strange Horizons, Gender Who?, and other venues.
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Originally from New Orleans, Shalini grew up with a love for the hauntingly beautiful stories, ideas and folklore that were enmeshed with the city. She also developed a deep love for words and a well-told story. Anytime those two can marry, she’s there for it. She loves stories that lure, that haunt, that pull at heartstrings or that wrap one up in fear, anxious to know what’s going to happen next.
