Lord Dalius burst through the heavy oak doors of his keep, gasping for breath. He’d had to run lest too many people see him in such a state. “That wretched hag!” he shouted into the emptiness. With a quivering breath… Continue Reading
“This woman is a witch!” boomed Reverend Josephus Drage. Reverend Drage, for six months now the vicar of Fellwood, preached fear and punishment — much easier for him than preaching hope and redemption, as they were more fitting to the… Continue Reading
As Amanda skimmed over the rooftops and trees, she cursed for the umpteenth time that she must do so on a broomstick. She could fly equally well without sitting on a damn piece of wood. But no, public perception said… Continue Reading
“I want to be a witch,” said the girl. She was a young thing, plump and pale as milk, with watery eyes that barely qualified as blue. As ordinary-looking as it was possible for a child to be without turning… Continue Reading
After our first month together, Naomi said she loved me. I’m used to that. Not to say I’m special. At least not for the reason exes have always given — or would give, if they were honest. I suspected Naomi… Continue Reading
When we go to sleep, everything is normal. When I wake up, my husband is a frog. I know it’s him by his little froggy eyes, which look at me just the way my husband’s did. “Did” or “do”? Do… Continue Reading
It is supposed to be the princes who go bald. They are Charming or Galant or Dauntless — looks don’t enter into it. They might even turn out to be distinguished with receding hairlines, or at the very least a… Continue Reading
Straight to the heart of the wood she brought me, where oak and beech grow thick — but it was under a rowan tree she set the basket down. “Mushrooms enough for the king’s army, if you stir yourself to… Continue Reading
Howling in rage, Zephaniah Twinkle hurled his wand at the crumbling, leather-bound Trollpuddle’s Compendium of Arcane Spells and Ritual. Sparks flew as burnished oak bounced off faded pages of vellum. Zephaniah wrinkled his nose, inhaling the sickly stench of rotting… Continue Reading
Charles refused to go. Calliope insisted. Since waking this morning, he understood it had something to do with the witch thing. He sensed Calliope bolting upright in their bed, heard her astonished whisper. “Of course, the Winter Solstice! Return of… Continue Reading