WFOL 2026

Vincent, Catherine’s Apartment, a Colander

“Vincent! You’re early!” Catherine ushered him in through her dining room doors. “You need a costume! Quick!!”

“It’s Halloween! On this night, surely I–”

“Well, yes, later. The party’s about to start! They’ll be knocking at my door any minute!

“They?”

“The kids in the building! Who I invited during a particular hour so I wouldn’t miss them. The hour about to strike!”

“Might I go as myself? As your Helper?”

She vanished, returning with a colander which she plopped on his head like a helmet.

And kissed him, deeply, whispering, “Oh, you’re more than a Helper.”

The doorbell rang.

Laura, the Great Falls, a Bracelet

It was the only thing she had to mark that day.

Her Lostness.

She remembered the creeping cold, the quiet as the park’s crowds thinned. 

“Stay right here,” the man had commanded.

She’d obeyed, knowing better than to not.

He hadn’t returned. And that was okay.

And it was not okay.

She drew the bracelet from her pocket. Not a memento. Not a keepsake.

But a reminder.

The threads that bound the dulled beads together were fraying. She tugged to free one, another, then another, dropping each into the swirling froth beneath the Great Falls.

Found now, she could forget.

Catherine, Narcissa’s Chamber, a Letter

Benny sailed toward her, steering with one hand, reaching inside his messenger bag with the other. He skidded to a stop at the curb, flourished a folded message.

From Vincent? The paper felt unfamiliar in her hand, its fibers raised, its brownish nap velvety.

The words were few on the page – spiky, large-lettered, in an angled crawl across the paper.

Come tonight. Come alone.
~ Narcissa

Alone? To her chamber? Catherine had ventured that deeply only once before and not by choice.

She brushed the sand from the waymarker, Vincent’s directions whispering in her thoughts.

I’m not afraid, she realized.

Father, the Dining Hall, a Large Crystal 

Father sat at his special place at the head table of the dining chamber. He inspected the place setting laid out before him, nudged the hammer on the right of his plate up a quarter inch, even with the chisel on the left.

His birthday supper would be served soon.

He settled against the plush velvet of the high-backed chair, rubbed his hands over the carved arms in hungry anticipation.

At last William arrived with a gold tray, upon it standing his favorite dish – a large, clear, many-pointed crystal.

He grabbed the hammer, the chisel …

“Father?! Father!! Wake up!!!”

Jamie, the Abyss, a Scarf

What a day, Jamie grumbled as she scuffed along. Same-old, Same-old. Hurry to work, chip rock, tote rubble. Trudge back, dig through the leftovers, fall into bed.

Is that any way to live? I want something amazing to happen!

Mouse was pacing around outside her chamber.

“No,” she said before he could take a breath. I don’t want to play checkers.

He stopped mid-pace.

“You say that every night, Mouse.”

“Not tonight, better come.”

She followed him to the abyss where dozens of scarves of every color were floating and swirling in the vortex.

She stood on the bridge, amazed.

Devin, Central Park, a Feather

Hand in hand they walked through Central Park, scuffing through deepening snow. Near the tunnel entrance, he slowed their steps.

A quickening wind swirled them in an icy crystal fog and when the squall stilled, a cardinal’s feather lay at their feet, brilliant against the white blanketing.

She bent for it, held it up into what passed for light from a low winter sun behind a laden cloud.

“In the old stories, finding a red feather signifies passion, discovered courage,” Brigit said. “Spiritual protection and comfort, too.

Devin chuckled. “ We’ll need all of that, introducing “us” to the old man.”

Mouse, the Main Branch of the New York Public Library, a Deck of Cards

Ace of Hearts, ten of diamonds, three of clubs. One by one, he pocketed the cards he found.

“Fifty-two pick up? Neat! Better than neat.”

A trail of them led him on through a junction, down a corridor, even up a ladder, the cards stuck in the joints between the rungs and the uprights.

“I find. Who left? Where going?”

Cards 50, 51 went into his pocket.

Card 52 was stuck in the latch of an old metal door. Which opened.

Inside.
Books.
Construction! Contraptions!
Papers sticking out.
Culled? Means what?
NYC Public Library.
Huh. Extras?
Dusty,
Free stuff, right?