Last week I left our narrator from the Burning Angel, Avenging Angel and Fingers, visitor from another world, in a bracknell rookery (shapes in the mist) with red eyes following their movements. I could have incorporated this story, but a lot of backfill for poor Jane to read. So, this is a stand alone for Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge #4: At the Window. Whether or not we meet Dr. Teagarten in JD’s Microfiction depends a lot on circumstance, JD’s choice of picture, and which character is the least annoyed with me. And there is still the matter of narrator and alien on his home world.
Dr. Teagarten locked Lucillia in a firm embrace, manipulating her so her silhouette was obvious to her brother Frederick watching below. Frederick would seethe, seeing his sweet, naïve sister in such warm companionship with a rapscallion such as himself.
Teagarten laughed, watching Frederick stalk away – to fetch the police? His father? His lawyer? His doctor? He let Lucillia’s lifeless body slump against the wall behind the billowing curtain.
“Natural causes. She was weak. Too much for her heart, all that fretting.”
Teagarten thought of staying – the whole scenario might play out amusingly – but he preferred slipstreaming to the next interesting point on the continuum he could step off on. Or just sliding with his mind closed, chancing a disappointing and sometimes dangerous stopover.
He packed up his scientific equipment and notes. All fit neatly in a specially designed travel case. With his coat over his arm, hat on head, cane, baggage firmly in hand, he stepped into the closet, never to be seen again in 1890’s Vienna.
Sigmund Freud was curious about the disappearance, and apparent death of Dr. Teagarten’s psychoanalysis patient L. He had hoped to collaborate with Teagarten on theories he was formulating: hysteria; dream analysis.
@ taleweavering/phylor 2016