A Strange Dish

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He couldn’t remember how he arrived. All he knew was the flicker of tallow candles, the bone-white plates, and something fried, turned over and over in batter and fat.  He prodded it with a fork, but it remained a mystery.

Two great wooden heaved open and his hosts entered. There were seven of them, some in dresses of starlight, some in robes of night. All hid their faces beneath masks of porcelain.

“Are you liking your meal?” one asked.

“It’s excellent.” He’d been raised to be polite.

“Good. Now to discuss the plans you’ve been putting into motion…”

He blinked. “What?”

The porcelain-masked figure sighed and looked at the others. “You got the wrong one again.”

“Sorry,” another muttered, “all mortals look the same to me.”

“We’ll send you back right away,” the first one said. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

And he was gone, the room dissipating like steam.


Word Count: 149

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Yarnspinner for providing the prompt photo!

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