by Mary Casey
The trap is set with my favourite socks. White, with shamrocks. The washer next to me is filling. My timing must be perfect.
I observe one sock floating in the air above the rest, held in place by a being the size of a hornet, with fluff for hair and long teeth, like the teeth of a comb.
The fairy pulls it apart, thread by thread, and swallows.
Not caring if my hand is shredded, I reach out and grab the thief. I slam open the washer, throw him in, and grin as the sock fairy suffers the spin cycle.
Author bio: Mary Casey lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where she writes prose and poetry in between chasing socks.
Thief is part of 101 Fiction issue 19.