Spell… H-A-L-L-O-W-E-E-N 2026 – Day 4
Spell… H-A-L-L-O-W-E-E-N is back! Let’s enjoy another month of supernatural fun.
A hypnotic file and a curse in the same package. This piece of micro-fiction is set in the same universe as my short story Into the Oblivion. It even shares the same characters. If you’d like me to develop this concept into a larger piece, you may commission it.
Shrinking
Tom rubbed his hands after downloading Mistress Amanda’s new creation. It was a hypnotic curse file entitled Shrinking. Feel the world grow big as you become smaller and smaller, the description said. That sentence alone was enough to pique his curiosity.
He slipped on the headphones and hit play. From the chaos of opening sounds, emerged the hypnodomme’s voice, as bewitching as ever… or perhaps even more. Halloween was drawing closer, and this was the first of many experiences she had prepared for her long-time fans.
The induction was standard, but effective, and then came the trigger, the herald of this wondrous journey. “Every time you hear the word diminish, you’ll shrink,” she cooed.
He whispered it as he heard it, and a pleasant tingle raced down his spine. Just a harmless fantasy, nothing more.
She said it again. And again. And again… With every echoing repetition, the world around him warped beyond recognition.
The room stretched in all directions, and his work desk rose like a cliff. He stared at his hands. They looked wrong, too far from his face. Heart hammering, he stumbled backward and the chair swallowed him. Everything familiar had turned into an impossible, hostile landscape.
“What the…?” he mumbled.
Diminish. Diminish. Diminish.
“Oh, fuck!”
Tom’s voice cracked into a thin squeak. The headphones crashed on the floor, sending pieces of plastic flying over his tiny head. His arms were the size of matchsticks now… No, toothpicks! No, even smaller than that.
.
The world ballooned into a nightmare of dust-mote moons and the distant thunder of his heartbeat. If there was a trigger to reverse the transformation, he didn’t know what it was. Only the trigger remained, a fanfare of horrific victory.
Mistress Alexia’s recorded laugh echoed from speakers the size of planets as Tom, microscopic and still shrinking, vanished into the weave of the carpet – powerless, silent, and still falling.
