When Danger Surrounds You
Thunder crashed against the mountain side. Stones rattled free and landed in the sprigs of grass that grew in the cracks. Torrents of rain obscured my view of the village beyond the trees.
Another place I didn’t feel welcome in.
Hunkered in an abandoned bear cave, I thought of home. Of Father and the wooden rabbits I’d carve under his watchful eye. Things had been so wonderful before the hunt for sorcerers. I still didn’t fully understand why everything had changed.
Carving Legends to Gain Freedom
Lights exploded across the night sky. Colorful banners intertwined overhead, lanterns bobbing like stars. Children squealed and screeched as they ran through the square. Women lifted large trays of food while scolding the young. Men maintained their course, unaffected even if three kids ran into them.
How they wasted their freedom.
Heavy boots drew near.
The Misunderstandings of a Naive Royal
“She walks these hills in a long black veil, visiting ol’ men’s graves at the wind’s wail.”
The men at the bar cackled and hollered at the drunkard’s unintentional rhyme. Or perhaps he finally remembered the sailor shanty he’d been trying to recite all evening.
Lawrence didn’t care which was truth.
Under the flickering yellow glow of the tavern chandeliers, he disappeared in the crowd of pirates and ruffians. A mondegreen if his royal life was a poet’s drama. Tucked in the corner, bathed in shadow, he heard every myth that tickled his fancy. Sirens calling sailors to death, whirlpools rerouting ships, Leviathans emerging from Davey Jones’ locker.
But he’d never heard of a black-veiled woman.
Impulsive Decisions to Right a Mistake
Gold coins rattled out of the iron pot. Shrieks quickened his pace. Milo skirted the thin trees and jumped off a boulder. Leather boots sliding on the moss, he regained his footing and charged forward. Toward the sunlight just beyond the foliage.
Shoved from behind, he hit the ground. The leprechaun shrieked before clamping sharp teeth onto his bicep.
Milo ripped the creature off and scrambled to get ahead.
The horde cried out.
While You Were Awake
“Stop being such a slugabed,” came the declaration through the door.
Milo pulled the covers over his head, blocking the sunlight streaming through the window. Eyes glued shut, he tried to fall asleep. Things had just been getting good.
“You’re such a slugabed.”
He opened his eyes to the lilting accent of Amalia. His closet-sized room in Michigan had grown into an ornate suite nestled in the hills of medieval England. Birds chirped while men began the day’s work in the palace courtyard.
The Terrible Prisons of Witches
“Father, why are we here?” I clung to his pant leg while we shuffled deeper into the tunnels.
Men shoved us forward, torchlight roaring in time with the clatter of shackles. Barred alcoves lined the damp brickwork, arms reaching for freedom. Wails followed the snap of leather, moans of hunger echoing through the chasm. The villagers spoke of a hoosegow, but this felt like purgatory.
Temporary Security Shattered by Reality
Why heights?
Marigold swung her leg to the next outcropping of rock. Pebbles collided with her sweaty brow on their way to the bare brush far below. Muscles spent, she reached for the hints of greenery above her head. Slick, squishy. And firmly rooted. Grunts and bruises brought her to the top. Thick fog blanketed the empty expanse.
At least she couldn’t see the ground.
Rising on sore legs, Marigold brushed off her torn skirt. The resulting black streaks reminded her of the soot on her fingers and sleeves. One terror replaced another.
Delicate Workmanship and Dangerous Secrets
Wood shavings coated my lap. A fine-tipped chisel rolled in my fingers while I sought my fading pencil lines. A quick blow cast dust into the air and my nose. Wetting sawdust lips, I turned the bijou in my grip.
“Stable boy!”
Pocketing the figure and tool, I rose from the hay bale I sat on. The sounds of the city and stench of manure enveloped my conscious mind. The master of the inn returned to his customer, another boy bringing in the new horse to be boarded. Tossing hay into the other stalls took moments. I swept the cobblestones and prepared one of the mares for departure.
When quiet set in, I returned to my post. The wooden bijou stared with hollow eyes, awaiting completion. I shaved fine details of fur onto the figure’s back and snout. Pointed ears finished, I worked carefully on the curled tail. Every periodic blow on the paws and face cleared my perspective.
Forbidden Past Preserves the Present
“Father, the line’s been broken! Our enemy nears the palace.” Paladin skidded across the ornate tiles, stopping at the foot of the throne. “We need the barrier if we’re to forfend the city.”
The king stared quietly at the chaos beyond the window. Fire filled the streets, shouts echoing to the smoke-filled sky. Yet sorrow didn’t cloud his shimmering blue eyes.
Running footsteps caught up to Paladin. “What are you doing?” Werlic hissed. “We can handle what’s coming.”
“We need the barrier.”
“Fairytales. Our magic is best suited in reality.”
Extreme Wickedness from a Queen
“Flagitious. Such an odd descriptor.”
Rising from his chair, he neared the beaten man. Flesh torn to ribbons. Blood dripping into the seams of the floor. Hung from rusted chains by his ankles. Naked, cold. Mortified.
The old man’s expression held little humanity, defining features bruised and broken. “Yet it is so.”
He walked around the shivering form with a wide berth. Cleaning blood from leather boots was much too tedious.