Faux Paws

By Piers Anthony, Matthew Brady, Gary Clifton and 14 more

Sometimes, life can be taken at face value; other times, there is more than meets the eye. Is your house pet simply an average cat, or is she a witch's familiar eagerly searching for her companion? Was that animal you encountered in the woods just a bear, or was it a mysterious cryptid of ancient lore? Be mindful of how you approach the animals in this collection of tales, because jumping to conclusions may prove to be a faux pas!

Featuring all original stories by:
Piers Anthony
Matthew Brady
Gary Clifton
Craig Crawford
Chris Doerner
Angelique Fawns
Ashleigh Hatter
Fiona M Jones
Nicola Kapron
Connor Kuntz
Ronald Linson
Rhiannon Lotze
Muri McCage
Rachel Nussbaum
Deidre J Owen
Gary Power
John B. Rosenman

"Faux Paws" is a Mannison Minibook flash fiction anthology published by Mannison Press, LLC.

CONTENT WARNING: Some of the stories in this collection contain depictions of violence, gore, death, and murder. Discretion is advised.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mannison Press, LLC
• Release date: Oct 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215855331

Piers Anthony

Piers Anthony is one of the world’s most popular fantasy writers, and a New York Times–bestselling author twenty-one times over. His Xanth novels have been read and loved by millions of readers around the world, and he daily receives letters from his devoted fans. In addition to the Xanth series, Anthony is the author of many other bestselling works. He lives in Inverness, Florida.

Book preview

Flash fiction, generally speaking, is an umbrella term for a work of fiction characterized by its brevity; it is a rich story told concisely, typically with a beginning, a middle, and an end (in contrast to a vignette, which paints a picture) and often offers a surprise twist. The challenge lies in being succinct while telling a complete and entertaining story, sometimes further striving for a very precise word count.

There are a number of accepted formats for flash fiction, some of them flexible in their word count requirements while others are very specific. A basic flash fiction story is roughly 1,000 to 1,500 words (with some wiggle room). Further, anything below 300 words is considered to be microfiction. More exact benchmarks for flash fiction word counts include: 750 words (sudden fiction), 500, 300, 200, 100 (a drabble), 50 (a dribble or minisaga), 280 characters (Twitterature, the precise length of a tweet on the social media platform known as Twitter), and the popular but challenging Six Word Story.

This fast-paced anthology includes a delightful, multi-genre smattering of flash fiction formats from the upper end of the constraints all the way down to the most minimalist format. We hope it is as exciting for you, the reader, as it was for all of us putting it together.

Deidre J Owen

Lithia, Florida

October 2023

1. Shelly and the Hog

Ashleigh Hatter

(Light Fantasy)

The hedgehog was never invited in the cottage, nor was it particularly wanted.

If anything, it was a rude guest that was only permitted in the garden because Shelly was unable to catch it. It made a permanent home somewhere along the back hedge, nestled within the twisted roots, and rarely ever poked its wet bead of a nose out until the sun was falling below the horizon.

Damned nuisance, Shelly liked to say whenever he spotted the prickly rat roaming the garden. Then, inevitably, he would get to his feet with a groan and chase after the little freeloader, hobbling badly, back and forth and back and forth, always a good meter behind the devil, before finally giving in from the pain in his left knee—a souvenir from his days serving in Her Majesty's Royal Army. Aching and embarrassed that he couldn't catch a dumb animal, Shelly would then limp his way back indoors and pour himself a very large brandy.

Bully to you, he'd say and raise his glass to the tiny beast.

About three weeks after that latest incident, Shelly's brother and nephew came to visit. Being a wounded war vet, Shelly didn't much like to go out and about, especially where there were crowds. Shelly's brother never pushed him to go out, respecting his little brother's wishes and acknowledging his pain. But he still saw the need for connection in his brother's life, and so Percy would visit Shelly once a week, often bringing one of his three children with him.

It had rained the day before, and Percy knew Shelly's pain was always at an all-time high after a good storm. Thus, Percy brought Shelly's favourite nephew in tow: Matthew.

Matthew was an imaginative little boy, prone to daydreams and fairytales.

In short, Matthew was nothing like his Uncle Shelly, and that may have been why Shelly was so keen on his whimsical nephew.

On that particular day, after letting them inside and preparing tea, Shelly settled onto a cushioned stool by his kitchen table with a grand sigh and was just about to begin some light conversation when he saw it.

The hedgehog.

It was the prickly devil himself poking his nose out of one of Shelly's favourite trainers!

You little bastard! cried Shelly, launching himself from his perch. He was already to the oven, having grasped a small frying pan he'd used to make eggs, and was turning around to bash the little varmint's head in, when he came to a stop.

Don't hurt him, Uncle Shelly! It was Matthew, holding Shelly's shoe in his hands, hugging it tight to his chest.

Put it down, Matthew, growled Shelly.

I'll set it loose in the garden, so it won't be inside anymore, offered Matthew, unaware of his uncle's history with the beast.

I'll not have it in the garden! I want it dead and gone.

Matthew frowned at his uncle, his young face scrunching into a mock expression of sternness he'd no doubt learned from his father.

"You can't hurt a hedgehog, Uncle Shelly."

Yeah? Set 'im down and I'll show you I can.

Matthew shook his head. "No, you can't hurt a hedgehog," he insisted.

And why not, Matthew?

Because they're the servants of the Little People.

They're the what?

Matthew nodded. They do the bidding of the Little People. The hedgehog, frightened by the noise and movement, had burrowed deep into the shoe, but now its little nose was wriggling just over the edge. Matthew smiled, looking at it. Hedgehogs are nocturnal. They only come out at night.

Well, it ain't night right now, is it?

Exactly.

Shelly frowned. What do you mean?

If a hedgehog is awake during the day, and is somewhere where they shouldn't be, it means they're on a very important mission from the Little People.

What sorta mission?

Matthew thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know. But it must be important for it to be awake and in here when it knows you hate it."

Shelly opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped himself. He looked at the expression on Matthew's face, the way the little boy was cradling—protecting—the tiny devil with his own body, and all his vitriol evaporated.

He sighed and tossed the pan into the sink.

Right. Go on then. Toss the bastard outside. Matthew smiled and dashed out the rear door. Just for good measure, Shelly shouted after him, And be sure to tell the little prick to find somewhere new to live!

After releasing the hedgehog, Matthew returned inside, and the three of them had a pleasant lunch, during which Percy remarked that Shelly seemed to be getting soft in your old age. Shelly sneered and ignored the statement.

The next day, Shelly was going about his usual routine, when he remembered a notice he'd received in the mail the day prior. There was a package from an old Army mate waiting for him at the Post. Very few things could tempt Shelly out of doors anymore, but letters and packages from old friends certainly held sway.

He slipped on his shoes, the same ones the hedgehog had bunked in, and headed out the door.

The Post Office was two blocks away from his cottage, and before he'd been deployed, the walk would have taken no time at all. But with his hobbled knee, getting there took much longer, and he felt every step of it.

He'd just crossed the street to the second block, when he noticed something odd. No. Not something odd. Something painful!

The pain in his knee was as fiery and grinding as ever, and it must have been great enough to distract from this new pain he was feeling in his foot.

It was a sharp needling pain coming from his shoe. In fact, it was coming from the very shoe the hedgehog had been in.

Little bastard, grunted Shelly. Must've shed a quill in there. He tried shaking his foot to get the quill to lie down, but he only succeeded in securing it in place, so that when he put weight on it, the tip of the quill buried deep in the soft skin of the bottom of his foot.

Shelly howled a curse and then…

Two things happened all at once.

Shelly fell; the suddenness of the pain momentarily crippled the use of his good leg, and his weak leg couldn't support his body. With a wet thunk the strength went out of his knee, and he fell to the footpath.

At the same moment, across the street in the French-styled bakery, an armed robbery was taking place. A large man in a ski mask was aiming a revolver at the head of a crying teenage girl, demanding she empty the register. While she was fumbling with the drawer, an off-duty constable, who was also in the bakery, tackled the robber from behind, pivoting the man away from the girl. The robber's arm flailed to the side as he was brought to the ground, but the suddenness of the situation tensed his muscles and the trigger was pulled. Bang! Glass shattered as the bullet exited the front window, flying straight across the street to where Shelly was walking.

Only Shelly wasn't walking just then.

Shelly was falling.

Had Shelly been walking, the bullet would have struck his neck.

But because he was falling, the only thing the bullet struck was the brick wall of a suit shoppe for larger men. Shelly, upon hearing the shot, forgot all about his pain and looked around to see what had happened. It didn't take long to piece together what had happened.

My god… he muttered, feeling his heart race. "I almost died. I could have died. If I hadn't…" His eyes drifted to his shoe. Sitting up, he removed it and plunged his fingers inside, only pulling them out once he had it.

Pinched between his fingers was the tiny quill of the hedgehog.

The words of his nephew played in his head.