Paul sat at the polished teak desk and stared at the bone-handled knife with the gleaming blade lying on the blotter. He reached down and picked it up and admired it. Permitting himself a smile he put it back down and adjusted the pad of paper next to it. He waited for the phone to ring.

As an accomplished cat burglar with many other skills he had acquired which went so well with that the plan had come together nicely. He had put aside all other business knowing from experience they would call tonight. His patience was soon rewarded.

He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Good evening, my name is Sherry, have I reached the head of the household?"

Paul ran his finger down the list quickly and then turned to the page he needed.

"Why yes, you have. What can I do for you?"

"I'm calling from Global Vaca..."

"Yes, I know where you're calling from, Sherry."

A slight hesitation. "Oh. Well then, i'd like to..."

"Yes, Sherry, I know what you'd like. You see, we've been through this before. Several times. And i've asked you not to call this number again."

"I'm sorry sir, i'll just..."

"Sherry, shhhhh. It's too late for that. Listen to me, Sherry. Listen very carefully, here's what's going to happen. You're going to do exactly what I tell you to do, because if you don't, very bad things are going to happen. Are you listening Sherry?" Paul's voice was cold and even.

Silence at the other end of the line followed by a whisper, "yes."

"Good. I have your attention. How is your mother these days Sherry?"

"My mother, what does my...what is this?" Her voice rising slightly on the last word.

"Sherry, you weren't listening. I'm going to say this once more. You're going to do exactly what I tell you to, and you don't ask the questions, I do."

"Sir, i'm going to hang up now and report..."

"No Sherry, you're not. Your mother's name is Edith Wagner. She lives at 506 Brighton Lane. All by herself. She's elderly. And Frail. And you wouldn't want any harm to come to her, now would you?"

Paul could feel her trembling. He could always feel them trembling. It felt good. He picked up the knife and twirled it idly.

"Sherry, you haven't answered me."

"What do you want from me?"

"Sherry, I told you, I ask the questions. If you disobey me one more time you're going to be receiving body parts in the mail. Is that what you want Sherry?"

"Please...oh God, please don't..." Her voice cracked and Paul glanced at his reflection in the knife and allowed himself another smile.

"Sherry, get ahold of yourself. I don't want you to alarm Kevin, Margot, Amy and Brad. They have work to do."

"How do you...I mean...ok. I'm in control."

"Very good Sherry, you're learning. Now listen closely. The master calling list is in the file cabinet on the left in your boss's office. At break time I want you to go to the coffee room with the others and then excuse yourself and go to the filing cabinet, got out the master list and remove the sheet with my name and destroy it. Have you got that?"

"Yes. I...yes, I can do that. I will do that. I promise."

"Very good Sherry. It's very important that you do. Now one more thing, I need you to go in at the beginning of every month when the new list is generated and make sure my number doesn't get called ever again. You see, Sherry, not only do I know where your mother lives, I know where you live. Do you follow?"

"Yes, I understand. Please don't..."

"Just do as you're told and you'll never hear from me again. If not, well..."

Paul let the implication speak for itself and hung up the phone. He put the knife down and went to the bar and poured himself a single malt Scotch. One simply couldn't allow these people to be rude, he mused. It just wouldn't do.

Magical realism is my favorite genre of fiction. Some authors, Terry Pratchett among them, believe it's simply Fantasy by another name. In fact Pratchett has been quoted as saying "it's a polite way of saying you write fantasy". I disagree. Magical realism as I enjoy it, both in reading and writing thereof, is about finding the magic that lies just beneath the surface of the ordinary and bringing it into the narrative as though it were obvious all along.

Fantasy, on the other hand, usually takes place in a made up environment in which odd things are the norm right from the beginning and form a natural part of the plot. It's true that there are short stories which start out in an ordinary everyday environment then devolve into fantasy, but that's not true magical realism. Such works used to be know as Fantastic fiction, thus aligning themselves more closely with fantasy proper.

Magical realism at it's best never deviates from the "real" world, but introduces elements that that are unusual but become tightly woven into the plot and we accept that it's happening. Some examples are animals that can talk to certain characters, characters that can move between waking and dream states without being asleep and houses that can alter the appearance of their rooms .

It is claimed by South American scholars that magical realism began in the '60's as a style of certain South Americal writers. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, author of Love In The Time Of Cholera confessed, "My most important problem was destroying the line of demarcation that separates what seems real from what seems fantastic."

A related genre has emerged in the last five years, Interstitial Fiction. This is a bit harder to pin down than magical realism, but many examples of this genre bear a strong resemblance and the two are so similar at first glance it's hard to see this as a genre in it's own right, but there are important distinctions.

Interfictions, as they are sometimes known, are more challenging. They invite the reader to see reality in an entirely different light, providing a wider range of possibilities for the reader's engagement and transformation. They are even more in the realm of the fantastic than magical realism in many cases.

The defining aspect of interfictions is that they are works that clearly fall between two distinct genres, such as mystery and westerns or science fiction and detective stories. Blade Runner comes to mind as an early example.

All of this is meant to introduce two genres you may not have explored yet. If so, I encourage you to do so, especially if you like fantasy or science fiction.

For magical realism I recommend Jonathan Carroll, author of Bones of the Moon, Sleeping in Flame, and Kissing the Beehive, among many others. For interstitial fiction, Elizabeth Hand, author of Saffron and Brimstone: Strange Stories and Aestival Tide.