Rebecca M. Douglass, Author

This story dates all the way back to 2014 (I think I can tell, stylistically), and was written for one of Chuck Wendig's random-title challenges. It's 1000 words, after I did a little touching up (as opposed to the complete rewrite that 11 more years of writing experience makes me itch to do).    The Cartographer’s Potion   The Cartographer gazed at the parchments on the worktable. A frown further creased his age-furrowed forehead. There was something missing, something that would make the maps live. He needed them to be more than just bits of parchment with lines on them.   “It wouldn’t hurt if they could be rolled and folded and stuffed into a saddlebag in the rain, and take no hurt,” Lord Alfus suggested.   “You don’t want much,” the Cartographer replied.   “You’re the mage.”   “I am a cartographer.” He rubbed a shaking hand across his aching forehead.   “A cartographer. Yes.” Lord Alfus shifted in his ...

This story is from January 2018. Have fun! Garbage Cans   I knew we were in trouble when the garbage cans started moving about on their own.   It just turned out that it wasn’t exactly the trouble I thought we were in. I mean, I spotted them first, and made the usual resolve. You know, to swear off the moonshine, give up the mason jar, and dry out.   The first thing wrong with that reaction was that I don’t drink.   The second thing was that I wasn’t the only one who saw them. Oh, lots of people had noticed that their trashcans weren’t in the same place in the morning as they’d been the night before. There were lots of reasons for that. “It’s raccoons. Those critters will do anything for a meal.” “Teenagers playing pranks.” “Minor earthquakes are vibrating them so that they move about.”   Then there were the whacko reasons: “There are magical fields in this neighborhood.” “It’s the aliens again. I told you they’d be back.” “Pol...