My stomach churned when I saw the cabbie that’d driven me to last night’s ball. The paunchy man hadn’t noticed me yet as he took off his cap, revealing the horrid bald spot that his dark, shoulder-length hair surrounded. I took a deep breath.
A bird landed on a mailbox nearby and squawked rather
“Hey, Hector, I hear you’re an OG at this store.”
“Five months.” Hector pulled the last two pink dice from the box and placed them in the display window by the front door. Behind him the “Happy olidays” sign that had lost its “H” fluttered in the air. A plastic Santa and reindeer
Last cookie of the night—store-bought, but still tasty. Washed it down with a sip of milk. After so many stops, one cookie was really all I could bear to eat without it all coming back up. But the night was over. Wearily, I climbed back into the sleigh and didn’t even need to
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“Do we have to go this way?” Edelweiss whispered, clutching my arm as we maneuvered through the shadowy valley. Dark, frozen cliffsides loomed on each side. Heaps of snow and rock shards rendered the path nearly invisible. “Isn’t this giant territory?”
“There’s no going around it,” I whispered back to her, fingers ready to
“Jack!” I shove a strand of wild red hair beneath the hood of my cloak. “Come out right now!”
As I stomp through the moonlit snow to reach the lake just ahead, my thoughts swirl back to the hustle and bustle of party preparations this morning. To Jack and Holly off in the corner
My ability to shift from mermaid to human ended at midnight. Unless you believed the stories about true love’s kiss under the mistletoe granting the ability of transformation. Which I didn’t. So I only had a few hours to observe the real effects of the mysterious plant and secure a sample.
I surfaced in
I snap my fingers, and the broom leaps from a corner and dances about the room. It sweeps up candy wrappers and stray autumn leaves that had floated into the shop throughout the day.
And what a glorious November day it has been!
My knees creak like an old floorboard as I sit on
You may have heard that many of the legendary cures for lycanthropy aren’t worth the yellowed parchment they’re scrawled on. Well, friend, buy me some ale, and I’ll spin a yarn about that very same supernatural libation. It may seem fantastic, but I swear ’tis true. And I’ve got a feeling that once I finish…
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“I’d like one pixie-sized pumpkin spice latte, please.” I flash a smile, though my voice still flutters like broken wings. “Oh, and extra whipped cream.”
The barista accepts my coins and scribbles my order—the same one my sister and I used to share, before she left for college.
Has Willow really only been gone for two months?
I studied the young gnome slouching in the chair before me and forced myself to keep a straight face. Today, Tilli had come dressed as a mushroom. A large dome-shaped hat hid all but a few pink wisps of her hair.
This should be interesting. I adjusted my glasses. “How can I help you today, Tilli?”
The biggest problem with being a scarecrow brought to life was the publicity. Memories of my prior existence in the zucchini patch remained fuzzy, but I was fairly certain there were no interviews, cameras, mobile phones, or TV crews before the kid worked his magic.
“Come on, Edgar. It’s one night.”
“How old are you, boy?” the elderly gardener asked, leaning on his pitchfork. Heat rushed to my cheeks, making me feel redder than the orchard’s ripe apples surrounding us. “S-seven and ten.” He grunted, eyeing me up and down before extending the implement. “So, nobody else wanted you at the orphanage?” Pain jabbed my chest as I accepted the handle.
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