Fiction: “The Real Reason Mrs. Sprague Came by Her House So Cheaply,”
by Karin Terebessy
Mrs. Sprague paused in front of the china cabinet when she heard a thunk.
“What was that?” she called into the parlor. “Boys?”
“Nothing, Mrs. Sprague,” they sang back in unison.
Mrs. Sprague let out a tense breath and headed toward the noise when a knock on the kitchen door forced her to pivot on her heels.
She opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
On the doorstep, a white-haired man in a three-piece suit ballooned up his chest. “I come from the past,” he proclaimed.
“Who doesn’t?” Mrs. Sprague snipped, and started to close the door.
“But I’ve just traveled through time,” he said quickly.
Mrs. Sprague shrugged. “Me too. I’m doing it right now. And now. And now. Good day—”
“Wait,” he said, grabbing hold of the door frame. “Do you know who I am?”
Mrs. Sprague nodded. “You’re Thomas Edison.”
Edison thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “You know you’ve got a vortex through time in your back yard?”
“Yes.” She threw an impatient glance toward the parlor at the sound of another thud. “Now if there’s nothing more I can do for you Mr. Edison, I have company…”
[read the rest of the story]
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By the way, if you enjoy this story, you might also want to check out Karin
Terebessy's much longer and darker story, “The Memory of Worms,” in our
March 2017 issue. 
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