Author: Summer Bird

The Witch

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Melinda checked the order form again and knocked on the door. A tall woman dressed in black opened the door. Her gray hair was pulled back tightly in a bun, and her thick dark eyebrows were pulled down in a glare. “Yes?” the woman said.

“Miss Ganon?” Melinda said, holding the order form in front of her like a shield. “I have your cookies.” She nodded her head at the bag sitting next to her on the front step.

Miss Ganon took the order form and looked over it. “Very well. Bring them in and I’ll get my purse.” She led Melinda into a dark, dusty living room. The curtains were closed and the lamp shone weakly. “Wait here, and I’ll be back,” the woman said. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll know if you do.”

Melinda thought about sitting on the sofa and decided that might be considered touching.   So she stood awkwardly next to the little table in the center of the room. The table was empty except for a chessboard. Melinda looked a little closer. The pieces were surprisingly detailed. She could even see the buttons on their suits and dresses.

Melinda shuffled forward and bent over to peer at a piece that had its mouth open in surprise.   The dust was thicker near the table, and moving closer stirred it up. Melinda began to sneeze and sneeze and sneeze all over the chess pieces.

There was a flash of light and a roar of thunder. When Melinda finished blinking and could finally see again, she looked around in surprise. The chess pieces were gone and the room was filled with people.

There were thundering footsteps on the stairs. The woman was coming back. “Run!” someone said. Every one began to run out of the room away from the footsteps.

“Which way to the door?” A woman yelled.

“Go left,” Melinda said. They all rushed from the house, back into the brilliant sunlight.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” a man yelled. He turned right and kept running. Everyone followed. A little girl grabbed Melinda’s arm and dragged her along. After several minutes, several of the older people started to look ill. They panted and wheezed, and still they ran.

Melinda was shocked that the woman hadn’t caught up with them yet. Perhaps she didn’t want to confront them out in the open. Or maybe she’d gone the wrong way on one of the turns they’d made.

They turned again.   The street looked familiar.   “Turn here,” Melinda said. “You can hide in my back yard.” She directed them to her house and opened the gate.   Everyone hurried through and huddled together under the trees in the far corner of the yard while they caught their breath.

“I’ll go and keep watch,” a little boy said.

“Be careful,” a woman said. “Maybe I’ll come with you.” They hurried across the yard and crouched by the gate.

“This is all your fault,” an older woman said to a woman dressed in a poofy white wedding dress.   “You’re the one who didn’t invite her.”

“I sent invitations to everyone on the list dad gave me,” the bride said.

“I thought she was dead,” a middle-aged man said. “There was an obituary and everything. You thought she was dead too.”

The older woman scowled. “We should have gone to the funeral and made sure she was dead.”

“We didn’t have any notice and it was on the other side of the country,” the man said.

“Why did she even want to come to the wedding?” the bride asked. She smoothed down her dress. “She hates all of us. I think she was just looking for an excuse to come and curse us.”

The man standing next to her straightened his tuxedo and frowned. “So your aunt is a witch or something?”

The girl sighed.   “Great-aunt, and apparently so.”

Just then, the little boy came running up. “She’s coming! What do we do?”

“Into the house,” Melinda yelled. Everyone ran.

Melinda’s mom came into the living room. “Melinda, who are all these people?”

“Um…” Melinda began. The doorbell rang. “Mom, tell her I’m not here!”

Melinda’s mom rolled her eyes and left. She came back a few minutes later. “Melinda, Miss Ganon brought over the rest of your cookie orders. She said you left them at her house. She said her chess set is missing too. She’ll come back later to talk to you about it.   Melinda, what is going on?”

That’s right.   The order form had her address on it.   Miss Ganon hadn’t needed to follow them at all. “Mom, how hard would it be to just leave on vacation for a few weeks? Before she comes back?” Melinda asked.

“Melinda.”

“Who wants to help me explain?” Melinda asked.

 

A Hero with Shining Scales

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The traveler tipped his head back and checked the position of the sun. It would be time to set up camp soon. The terrain was suitably rocky. Perhaps there would be a small cave nearby where he could find some shelter for the night.

He checked the sky again. It might rain in the night.   He’d better start looking for a nice cave now. So, he stepped off the path and began to pick his way around the side of the mountain. It was a slow process. If there weren’t so many trees, he’d try flying.

The traveler paused and perched on a tall boulder and scanned the area. There had to be a faster way to do this. He sat still for a moment to think. A cool breeze blew by, and it carried with it the faint sound of someone crying. He decided to follow the sound. Perhaps if he found a way to help them, they’d be grateful enough to point out a place for him to stay for the night.

He picked up his bag in his talons and swung it over his shoulder. He followed the sound through the woods to a pretty meadow on the other side. A dragaina was hunched over, wings limp, sobbing. “Hey pretty lady, why are you crying?” the traveler asked.

“A horrible human princess stole my baby,” the dragaina said. “I tried to rescue him, but a knight held me off until another could sneak up and hit me in the head with a metal club. When I awoke, they were gone and I don’t know how to find them.”

“Don’t cry.   I will help you find him,” the traveler said.

The dragaina’s wings perked up and her eyes were wide with hope. “Really? Could you find him?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said. “Dragon’s honor.”

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “He’s all that I have left of my husband who was killed by those evil knights. They stole all our hoard too.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ma’am. Tell me where the nearest river is and I’ll start looking for your little one,” the traveler said. Unfortunately, he had heard many stories like this in his travels. It was fortunate that in this case some of the family had survived.

He followed the dragaina’s directions to the river and began to walk downstream. Human settlements needed water, and they didn’t like to work hard to get it if they didn’t have to. Sure enough, he soon found a bridge spanning the river. On either side was a wide human road.

He followed the road away from the woods into a valley. In the center of the valley, a human town was settled snugly inside a stone wall with a large keep at its center. That was probably where the fledgling was being held captive.

He waited until night. The storm cloud rolled in and blotted out the moonlight. A fine misty rain put out the torches and sent the guards to huddle inside their guardhouses. The traveler glided in silently without being seen. They never looked up.

He flew around the keep and peeked into the windows. It wasn’t too hard to spot the princess’s room. Her enormous bed was draped with embroidered silks. The fledgling was curled up on the rug beside the bed, shivering. He was collared and chained to the wall. Humans were always so barbaric.

The traveler used his claws to slowly pry the window open. The princess didn’t stir, but the fledgling lifted his head and looked around, sniffing the air. When he saw the traveler he stood and raised his wings in greeting. The traveler smiled.

He bit through the leather collar and helped the fledgling out the window. The fledgling perched on the window ledge while the traveler closed the window, careful to make as little noise as possible.

Unfortunately, the princess woke up. “Stop!” she shrieked, racing towards the window. The fledgling froze. The traveler scooped him up and jumped, just as the window burst open and the princess called to the guards. He spiraled up, higher and higher, pushing through the heavy rain and avoiding the arrows. Then he flew through the clouds back to the dragaina.

Mother and son hugged each other and cried. “Thank you,” the dragaina said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Do you know of somewhere I can stay out of the rain tonight?” he asked.

“Of course.   Let me feed you a meal as well,” she said.

He followed her to her cave. They ate a quick meal, and then the fledgling fell asleep, curled against his mother’s side. The traveler sighed and looked out into the dark night outside the cave. “You can’t stay here any longer you know,” he said.   “It’s not safe.”

“But where will we go?” she asked. “We don’t have any other family.”

“I don’t know,” the traveler said. “I’ve been looking for a safe place for long time.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “There’s nothing left for us here. We can leave in the morning.”

The traveler thought for a moment of the danger of traveling in groups. But he knew that she could use the help, and it would be nice to not be alone. “All right,” he said at last. “Perhaps together we can find a place where our people will be safe and humans can’t find us.”

“I think we will,” she said. “And maybe the humans will forget about us and stop looking for us. It would be nice if my son didn’t have to grow up in fear.”

“If we do find a place, we can gather our people,” the traveler said.   “And maybe their grandchildren will someday believe that humans only exist in stories.”

“I will do all I can to make it happen,” the dragaina said. And together, they did.

 

Charlie’s Room: The Blanket

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Marianne came back from tucking Charlie in. “I think his blankie needs to be retired soon,” she said. “It may not make it through another wash cycle.”

“Oh no,” Isaac said. “He’s going to be so sad.   It’s been such a good blanket.   He’s had it since before he was born.   It’s even older than Socks.”

“Yes, well, socks hasn’t had to go through the wash nearly as often,” Marianne said.

“Good thing too,” Isaac said. “Cats hate water. We’d probably wake up covered in scratches.”

Marianne laughed.   “It’s a good thing his claws are just painted on then.” She sighed.   “The blanket wouldn’t get dirty so often if he didn’t insist on wearing it to breakfast.”

“You’re probably right,” Isaac said.

“Well, it’s too late now.” Marianne picked up her book. “Luckily we don’t need to worry about it just yet. I think it might last a few weeks longer.” She found her page and started reading. Isaac picked up his book and joined her.

Unfortunately, two days later, Charlie didn’t notice he was shutting the corner of his blanket in the door. When he started to walk away, the blanket tore, leaving a jagged zigzag gap from corner to corner. Isaac came running when he heard the dismayed yelp.

“Charlie, what happened?” he asked.

“My blankie!” Charlie said. He started to tear up a bit.

Isaac started to put an arm around him and realized that he was still holding his toothbrush.   He hugged Charlie with his other arm.   “Come on. Let’s take it to Mom and see if she can patch it up again.”

Marianne was in the kitchen rinsing the pot Isaac had used to make the oatmeal.   She shut off the water and turned. “Why the sad faces?” she asked.

“My blankie got caught in the door and it tore,” Charlie said.

“Oh dear,” Marianne said. “Let me see.” She examined the tear. “I don’t think I can fix this. The fabric is just too worn out.”

Charlie started to sniffle a little. “Can’t you put a patch on?” he asked.

“It will just tear again,” Marianne said. “Probably while I’m trying to sew it. Why don’t you wrap yourself in it for breakfast one more time and maybe this evening we can give it a funeral.”

Charlie slid into his seat and arranged the torn blanket around his shoulders. Marianne tried to help. Isaac rinsed his toothbrush and put it away and came back.   The blanket still wasn’t tucked in quite right.

Isaac tried to help tuck an end under so that the fluffy tear wasn’t tickling Charlie’s face. “Well, that sort of worked,” he said. The blanket managed to untuck itself and slide down Charlie’s shoulder.   Charlie giggled. “I spoke too soon,” Isaac said.

The blanket kept trying to resist their efforts to tuck it around Charlie. In the end, they finally managed to get it to stay put.   By that point, they were all laughing.   They left the house smiling.

By afternoon, Charlie was sad again. “Can I bury my blankie in the back yard so that I can visit its grave?” he asked.

“It’s made out of cotton, so I guess that would be fine,” Isaac said. Charlie looked confused. “Natural fibers should be safe for the animals that live there,” Isaac explained.

“Oh, okay,” Charlie said. “I’ll get my shovel and dig a hole under the tree. You ask mom if we can pick some of her daffodils.”

“She’s more likely to say yes if you ask her,” Isaac said.

“Then tell her its me asking,” Charlie said.

“All right.”   Isaac found Marianne. She agreed to donate the flowers for the funeral and picked them herself.

After an appropriately solemn funeral, they went inside for a quiet evening. Charlie had a hard time falling asleep. Isaac read him four chapters from their book, and finally he heard soft snores. He turned out the light and whispered goodnight.

He went to the kitchen for a drink of water. After that much reading, his throat felt really dry. He stood in the dark kitchen that was softly illuminated by the light of the streetlights outside and looked at the tree in the backyard.

Something was moving in the shadows at its base. Was an animal digging up Charlie’s blanket? Isaac stepped closer to the window and looked out. He couldn’t tell what it was. He pressed his face to the glass.

It was the blanket. Somehow, it was pulling itself out of the dirt. Ragged and torn, it rose from the ground at last, suspended from its center by an unseen thread like a Halloween ghost.

As Isaac watched, it began to fade. It grew lighter, and lighter, thinning out like the edges of a bank of fog. Then it was gone.

Isaac opened the door and looked out. The yard was quiet. He walked over to the edge of the grave. The earth looked turned up at the center.

Isaac patted the dirt back down. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He hoped the blanket was happy wherever it just went. It had been a very good blanket, after all.

A Big Baby

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“I’m so glad you’re here, sir,” the major said.

“Tell me what the emergency is,” the general said.

“It’s a giant baby, sir. He somehow made its way down here and is pulling up buildings to play with them like blocks. We’ve had to evacuate the downtown area,” the major reported. “We can see him from this window over here.”

The general walked over to the window and nodded. “The clouds were low-lying this morning. He probably managed to wander off then. I’m surprised his parents haven’t noticed he’s missing yet.”

“So what should we do, sir?” the major asked. “Why don’t we have a system for calling the giants?”

“They keep smashing the phones we give them,” the general said. “They just aren’t used to technology and aren’t very careful with it.”

There was a loud crashing sound. They both turned to look at the baby giant. He was banging two skyscrapers together. Shards of glass sparkled like rain as they flew through the air.

“It’s a good thing giant skin is so thick. Otherwise he’d be all cut up and screaming right now,” the major said. “We’d need ear protection.”

The baby shrieked in delight and picked up a car and pretended to drive it over the smashed buildings. The men winced at he loud noise.   “I see what you mean,” the general said.

“What do you think about sleeping gas, sir?” the major asked. The baby was smashing the car against other buildings and laughing.

“It’s too risky when they’re that young. If anything went wrong, we’d be violating the treaty,” the general said.   “However, I think I have an idea.   Can you get me the sound system we use to broadcast the New Year’s show? I’ll need someone familiar with the equipment as well. Oh, and the baby will probably need a snack soon.”

The major saluted.   “Right away, sir,” he said. He hurried away.

The general went back to watching the baby. He was jumping in the lake at the center of the park. The ground shook. The general looked up at the ceiling. It looked like it would hold.

The baby laid back and took half of the trees in the park with him. He rolled over and tore out another skyscraper. Still laying on his side, he put his left thumb in his mouth and used his the skyscraper he was holding in his right hand to club at the other buildings nearby.

The general sighed and made a phone call. “Mom,” he said. “I need some help.”

The general’s mother arrived as they were setting up the sound system. “Hi, mom,” he said. Then he turned back to the sound technician. “I need it to be nice and loud. As loud as giants.”

“I can do that,” the sound technician said. “Am I supposed to call you sir or something?”

“No, you’re fine.   Thank you for your help,” the general said.

The giant baby had picked up a statue of a horse and was galloping it down Main Street when they finally had everything in place. The general’s mother took the microphone. “I’m ready,” she said. “Turn it on.”

“Young man,” she said. Her voice boomed out through the speakers set up on the roof. The baby paused and looked around. “It’s almost snack time. Clean up, and you can eat your snack and wait for your mom. She’ll be here any minute.”

The baby clapped his hands and started putting things back into the right area. A group of soldiers carried out tubs filled with sliced bread. The baby shrieked and ate quickly. The general’s mother spoke soothingly as he ate, and soon the baby yawned and laid down in the park for his nap.

That’s where his mother found him when she finally realized where he ended up. She was apologetic and insisted on paying for repairs.   They sent her home with yet another phone and looked around at the mess.

“Hopefully she keeps a better eye on him from now on,” the general said with a sigh. “Our city really isn’t baby-proof.”

Monster Sweets

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Eglantine wandered into the poorly lit store that she’d never noticed before. It was squeezed between a coffee shop filled with scruffy people and a grocery store that had closed nearly a decade ago.   She would normally never even look twice at anything along this street, but her car had a flat tire and her phone died, so she needed to find a way to call a tow truck.

There was no one at the counter. Eglantine looked around and couldn’t find a bell to ring either. “Hello? Is anybody there?” she said. She looked around. It certainly was a strange store. I was so dimly lit that it was difficult to see what was on the shelves from here.

“Can I help you?” a low, crackly voice asked. Eglantine nearly jumped in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone come in.

She turned and faced the young man standing behind the counter. He was tall and thin and pale with dark hair and a bit of an overbite.   He seemed harmless. Eglantine smiled. “Do you have a phone I could use? My battery died and my car has a flat tire.”

“Just a moment,” the young man said. He reached under the counter and picked up an old-fashioned phone that he set down at her elbow.

“Is that a rotary dial? I haven’t seen one of those since I was a little girl.” She smiled and carefully dialed the number. She arranged to meet the tow truck driver in front of the grocery store in twenty minutes.

Task done, Eglantine looked around the store again. “What do you sell here?” she asked.

“Sweets for monsters,” the young man said. He looked completely serious. Eglantine looked at his black clothing and pale appearance. The store must cater to teenagers who liked dressing up as vampires and such.

Eglantine had always had a bit of a sweet tooth. She didn’t mind playing along with the theme, as long as the candy tasted good. “What would you recommend?” she asked.

“What kind of monster are you?” the young man asked.

Well, that was hardly helpful. “Does it matter?”

The young man looked confused. “Of course it does.” He waved towards a dark shelf that looked like most of the others. “Just look at the lollipops. Vampires like blood pops, werewolves like meat pops, and zombies like brain pops.”

Those were terrible flavor names. And they didn’t really hint at what the flavors really tasted like. Kids and their strange obsessions. “What’s your bestseller?” Eglantine asked.

The young man pointed to a box on the counter filled with bland looking packaged bars of some type. “This far from Halloween we sell a lot of spectral energy bars.”

Ugh.   Protein bars. “Do they taste good?” she asked.

The young man blinked. “They don’t taste like anything.”

Eglantine laughed.   “I believe it.” She checked her watch. The tow truck driver would be here in a few minutes. If she was going to buy herself a treat, she’d need to decide on something soon. “So, what do you think I would like?”

“If you like jam, we have a new shipment in,” the young man said.

“Sure,” she said.   “I’ll get a baguette on the way home and have toast and jam and hot cocoa.” She smiled. She could already see herself curled in her favorite chair watching the weather channel and enjoying her treat. “Pick out two. Surprise me,” she said.

“All right,” the young man said. He walked around the counter to a nearby shelf and picked up two little jars. He put them into a little plain paper bag with handles and set it on the counter. He rang up the purchase on an old-fashioned register. “How will you be paying?” he asked.

“Cash,” she said.   She handed him a bill that would comfortably cover the cost. “Keep the change,” she said. “Thanks for the help.”

She hurried over to her car. Just as she arrived, the tow truck pulled up. In all the hassle of dealing with the tow truck and the repair shop, she forgot all about the jam until she was driving home that evening. “Oh, I need to stop at the bakery,” she said. She was able to just make the turn in time.

Before going into the bakery, she decided to peek at the jars the young man had picked out.   Lizard Scale Jelly and Banana Peel and Parsley Jam? What did they really taste like? They sounded terrible. Well, if they tasted bad, at least the jars were cute. She could put them on her desk and use them to hold paperclips and stamps. Really, teenagers these days were so strange.

 

The Pirates

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Brian took off his coat and settled in his seat. It was time for his oldest daughter’s school play. He glanced at the program. There she was, on the back of the program, listed under stage crew.

He felt a little silly coming to watch a play full of teenagers when he wasn’t related to any of the actual performers. However, he felt like he was supporting the theater department by showing up, or something like that.

Halfway through the first act, he wished he’d stayed home. It was dark, and he couldn’t hear half the lines, and he kept falling asleep. Why had he come again?

And then, all the lights came on at once. The audience members looked at each other, blinking. The teenagers on stage froze in place, looking confused. And then four men in pirate costumes ran onstage.

“We are now stealing your show,” the one dressed as a captain said. He tugged on the end of his goatee with an evil chuckle. “You may get it back, but it will never be the same.” He laughed louder. The pirates behind him started to juggle and hula hoop, but they were rather terrible at both.

Brian straightened in his chair. This wasn’t on the program. The pirates looked too old to be teenagers. Were they teachers from the school? He didn’t recognize them.

The pirates were now attempting to jump rope and solve rubix cubes. Perhaps they’d do better to try one thing at a time.   Brian snorted and clapped as a pirate managed to tangle two others in the jump rope.

The laughter and applause grew louder. They quieted as the pirates sang an odd song about grog and bowed. The audience cheered. The lights went out. When they went back on, the pirates were gone.

“Jenny,” Brian said to his daughter as he drove her home that night, “who were the pirates?   They were hilarious. It was the best five minutes of the show.”

“That wasn’t part of the show, Dad,” Jenny said. “No one knows who they are.”

“That’s really weird,” Brian said.

Two weeks later, it was the opening night for the last movie in the trilogy about the dinosaurs that saved the world from alien invasions. All the showings were sold out for three days. It was going to be the movie of the year.

Brian had camped out overnight to get tickets for the first showing. Everyone he knew was jealous. Brian brought a notebook to record his impressions for discussions with his friends when they finally saw it. He pinched his arm when he entered the theater.

Everyone sat down for the previews and waited expectantly. Then the studio logo came onscreen. The audience cheered. Then there was a scratchy sort of noise and the pirates appeared, larger than life.   “We have stolen the show,” the captain said. “To get it back, you must follow the map. Good bye!”   He laughed.

A map of the theater replaced the image of the pirates. Brian copied the map into his notebook. His wife Sally and their children followed him. Most of the audience members were already searching the theater.

Seeing Brian’s map, a group joined them as they followed the trail. They followed the map to a storeroom at the back of the theater. The theater manager had come along with the group, and he let them into the room. The film was in a sealed box of serving containers for movie popcorn.   When he opened the box he nearly cried in relief. “We can watch the show now,” he said. Everyone cheered.

Three days later, it was Sally’s birthday. Brian tried to convince her that the movie was an awesome birthday celebration, but she wanted a nice dinner out and had already made reservations. The restaurant was so fancy they had to dress up.

It had more than one menu and lots of silverware and a piano player in the corner playing classical music. Brian wanted to run away. “We can still go for pizza,” he whispered. His wife rolled her eyes.

They were halfway through eating their cold soup when the piano music came to a halt with a smash of keys. Everyone looked over. Two pirates were busy tying up the piano player. A third was tying his shoes laces together. The captain looked on, tugging at his goatee and chortling. He turned, hands on his hips, and looked at the diners.

“We’ve come to steal your show,” he said.

“You ruined my son’s track meet,” a man yelled.

“You knocked that poor mime into the park fountain,” someone else yelled.

“Did you really need to interrupt the debate competition? Or the spelling bee?” another diner asked.

A man glared, face red. “You were the ones who spoiled my press conference!”

“The audience was still laughing when my daughter won the beauty pageant. I hate you,” a woman said. She slammed her fist on the table. Her soup sloshed dangerously.

“I see that our reputation precedes us,” the captain said. “And so, for our devoted fans…”

“I hate you,” the woman repeated.

“… we have a special treat.” The captain continued. “A sword dance, with musical accompaniment.”

One of the pirates played chopsticks. The captain clapped along, and the other two pirates waved their swords around and stomped back and forth. A security guard approached them. The lights went off. When they turned back on the pirates were gone.

“I hate them,” the woman repeated.

“This was great,” Brian whispered. “I’m glad we came. Even if the soup was cold.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “At least someone is happy.”

The security guards untied the piano player. Several people were gathering their things and leaving. In the end, Brian and his wife stayed and got a discount on their meal and a free dessert.

Brian had a long meeting scheduled at work on Monday. He knew it was going to drag on and on, and no one would say anything new.   He wondered if the pirates took requests.