The Curse of the Were-Cupcake

By Abigail Falanga

It had been three months since someone last licked me.

That was a weird experience.

The offending party apologized profusely and dropped me like I was a talking cupcake. Which, at the time, I was. Couldn’t really blame them for running away screaming.

Now, trying not to be nervous, I locked up my realtor’s office and paused a moment to smooth my orange-red hair. It hadn’t grown properly ever since the licking incident.

I set off at a brisk walk toward the patisserie Gina Rossano frequented. There was still time to get situated before the shop closed—and before the inevitable Change overtook me.

“Hey, Zach!” Caity called, her voice tense and higher than normal. She balanced an empty travel mug on top of her briefcase as she opened her car door. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “You?”

“Just getting as far away from everything as possible. Stay safe!”

“Don’t kill anyone.”

“Har har.” Caity crinkled her eyebrows. “Hey, isn’t your apartment the other way?”

“Not going there tonight. Got a girl to meet!”

“Oh!” Caity half-smiled teasingly, then waved from her car window as she drove off. “Good luck.”

I knew the girl’s name—Gina Rossano—because she’d come in to look at listings a couple of weeks ago. I knew she stopped for a treat at the patisserie every morning because she walked by my windows afterward.

Let’s just say it’s hard to break it to your crush that you turn into a cupcake every full moon. It was best to just show her.

I’d worked it all out: sit on the patisserie counter when she came in tomorrow morning, then go back to my usual Zach-form as the moon set. She’d scream. I’d grin cheekily and buy her whatever caught her eye. She would be startled and cute, I’d explain it all, we’d have breakfast together…

The patisserie wasn’t busy. I slipped in and bought coffee and a bagel, but I could barely eat. I drummed my fingers on the table as I watched the sunset and rehearsed what I’d tell Gina, who was new to the area.

Six months ago, scientists at the local museum carefully opened an ancient sarcophagus. Not carefully enough. They’d ignored its inscribed warnings against disturbing its rest—warnings of a terrible lycanthropic curse.

The instant the sarcophagus opened, everyone within a mile radius transformed into whatever object they happened to be thinking about.

One guy became a book. Others transformed into cats, palm trees, puppies, spice jars, snow flurries…

I happened to be thinking about getting a carrot cupcake.

Most of us food-creatures got trampled or eaten that first night. Or the next full moon.

I was lucky, and then I learned—always be at home during a full moon. As a cupcake, I had limited mobility and speech. It’s hard to warn potential eaters.

Sitting there waiting for her, the hair on my neck prickled. My arms weakened. It was coming.

“Shop closes in ten minutes,” the waitress said as she passed.

I only nodded, stood, and dove for the countertop.

A delirious whirl. My body broke up, shifted, condensed—

Just like that, I was a confection of grated carrots and spices, topped with piped cream cheese frosting and a slightly smeared bright orange carrot.

Ugh.

The shop grew dark, and the streets outside the windows emptied fast. City officials hadn’t formally recognized the emergency, but there was a curfew to keep people safe at home.

With effort, I popped out little cakey legs and trekked over to a cake stand. Then, I settled in for a long, dull night.

Cupcakes don’t exactly sleep.

But—

Less than an hour later, a door opened in the back of the shop. Gina came out, adjusting a coppery sweater and muttering about inventory backlogs and how she couldn’t wait to get home.

She worked here?!

“Oh!” she remarked, stopping. “Nice of Steph to leave me a treat to take home. Perks of working late, I guess.”

That wasn’t how this was supposed to go down!

She lifted me, admiring my cupcake proportions and inhaling my aroma.

This wasn’t how I wanted to get close to her!

Gina went out into the street—ignoring the curfew—and opened her mouth to take a bite.

“No!” I shouted. The word came out in a muffled gurgle.

Gina shrieked and dropped me onto the sidewalk.

“It—me—Zach!” I garbled out.

She gawked. No surprise. It wasn’t like food usually talked. She backed away, the full moon highlighting the lovely turn of her cheek.

And something else.

“Loo’—ou’!” I yelled.

A huge dragon swooped out of the sky straight at her.

She jumped out of the way just in time.

The dragon landed just beyond us, eyes murderous, claws raking the asphalt. Caity? She’s normally the nicest woman alive!

Gina couldn’t get away without help. I had to do something.

“Caity!” I ran forward as fast as my wobbly legs would carry me. “No! No—kill!”

“Zrrrrrr?” the dragon growled, flames flickering.

I couldn’t reason with a dragon—not when I could barely speak. But maybe I could startle one?

I tilted my mouth open as far as it would go without losing any frosting and roared.

The eerie, high-pitched sound echoed through the deserted streets.

The dragon backed up a step, shifting her focus to me.

A hand grabbed me.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Gina’s voice hitched as she ran full-tilt. “This makes no sense. But you saved me. We just gotta find some place to hide…”

She banked, pounded up four stone steps and into an inviting wooden door, slamming it shut.

Silence followed. It seemed the dragon had given up. Or perhaps Caity was still in control, somehow.

Gina collapsed on the stairs, breathing hard and staring at me.

“Had to show you,” I muttered.

The whole house shook and groaned. A deep, bricky voice said sardonically, “I know there’s an interesting story in here somewhere.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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