The Truth of Art

The smile of Fabenouw the inventor, when he left his atelier that day, was heavier with menace than ever before. The citizens of Werdecu expected that sort of thing and thought nothing of it, a complacence which aided him in his scheme.
"Neighbors!" he called out. "This is my latest invention, the camera! It takes a picture of whatever I point it at! Limitations apply."
The city folk whistled and admired the object he flourished. They took his achievements more seriously than his attitude. "Is it expensive to operate?"
"A little pricey, but nothing unmanageable."
"Is it as good as Master Magonim's portraits?"
"Not yet, and that's why I want your help in developing it further. Wasn't it kind of Master Magonim to promise every one of us a portrait for free? Even though he warned it wouldn't be his best work, think of how much he's losing because of his charity. Now once this camera is better . . ."
The novelty would have been enough, but with the prospect of helping the generous Magonim added, the citizens rushed to participate. They even brought Magonim over despite his protestations. He struggled a little like a man of true humility.
Fabenouw chuckled with satisfaction when he retired to his atelier, but soon his wicked contentment succumbed to shock. "This one too! And this one! And him! Where are their souls? Does my camera not work after all?" Feverishly scanning his developed pictures, he grew increasingly agitated until one of them made his mood explode. "He already took them! Magonim! He has all their souls!" The inventor tore apart the portraitist's resemblance while he imagined greater tortures than that.
Finis

The Lich Society

In a club kept exclusive not by bouncers or reputation but by the need to possess certain arts unavailable to the masses, three liches gathered to discuss, as they sometimes liked to do, matters only a self-selected few would understand.
"I buried my soul at the end of a rainbow. No one can find it, not even I, though now I regret my act when an urge to check on it comes, the only urges left to me," Lich A said.
B's dry cackle acknowledged the humor of the situation. "I ensured mine might always be available by enshrining it in this country's founding document. Guards watch over it day and night, though I pay them not a penny!" It picked a rat out of its crumbling tricorne and tossed the pest aside.
"As for my soul," C said, "I would never speak of it aloud. I am surprised you both do."
The light dimmed when A chuckled, but he continued regardless. "So then. I will speak no more of that. Instead, try this. PIck a card and place it in your wallet."
Red lights rolled in C's eye sockets, but it did as asked.
"Excellent. Most excellent." A shuffled the deck and showed C the three of clubs. "This is your card."
"Nay."
"Ah. I was mistaken. This is it." The jack of diamonds.
"Nay."
"I feared to grow old, yet now I am older than old. I recall the trick now. The card is in my wallet." He reached in, and twin yellow lights flared in what remained of his face. "I am mistaken again, as this cannot be your card, being no card at all." He drew forth a diamond, large but uncut.
"My soul!"
A and B laughed, the laughter unnaturally denied the grave though surely of it.
Finis