Saturday Story 2025 #12 (Dreams of Surrender)

Something new on my Patreon. This piece is connected to Mistress Silver. Synopsis below:

Holly’s life changes when she starts having sapphic dreams about her neighbor Margaret.

This was meant to be a piece of flash fiction but eventually grew to become a short story.

To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.

An excerpt is available below:

https://www.patreon.com/posts/124952979

Holly Walker adjusted her glasses, the familiar weight of them a comforting anchor as she shelved the last of the evening’s returns. The library was quiet except for the music playing in her wireless earbuds, some old 60s song whose melody was familiar, but not the lyrics.
She hummed along, a nervous habit, her mind drifting to the stack of papers on her desk. A thesis on rare book preservation was waiting for her attention, but she refused to give it any. It was too stressful to even think about it, and that was the last thing she needed.
Holly Walker had always been a woman of routine, her life as tidy as the shelves she maintained at the library. Each morning, she’d wake before dawn, brew a cup of Earl Grey, and sit by her window to watch the first light creep over the rooftops. Then she would choose her outfit carefully before heading out to work. Walking to it was not an option in the busy streets of Philadelphia but that was what her trusty motorcycle was for. She loved the freedom she felt when riding it and wouldn’t trade it for any four-wheeled vehicle in the world.
Her routine was a carefully woven tapestry, each thread of habit and tradition stitched together with precision. It wasn’t just about structure; it was about finding solace in the predictable. And Holly took great joy in the small, mundane moments that made up her day. Like the way the steam curled off her tea in the morning, or the soft creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet as she shelved books. These were the things that grounded her, that made her feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Holly’s existence was a peaceful one, cultivated over years of solitude. But lately, that peace had been disrupted by a force far beyond her control.
Things had started to go downhill shortly after Margaret moved in next door. She was a tall, imposing woman with sharp features, a voice that could melt stone, and an air of quiet confidence that left Holly tongue-tied every time their paths crossed. Her presence haunted her waking life but also her dreams with vivid, consuming, and unrelenting pieces of imagery beyond anything she had ever imagined.

(…)

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