Witchy Tales: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fairy Tale Page 3

  I knew he was right. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Landon said, leaning forward so he could give me another kiss. “Tell me what happened after you woke up.”

  “Well, I walked out of what I thought was my bedroom and found myself in a cabin,” I said. “It was really cute. Rustic. It had this wooden furniture that would be really adorable with cushions.”

  “Thanks for the interior decorating commentary, sweetie,” Landon said. “Then what happened?”

  “Well, the door opened, and three … bears … walked into the cabin.”

  Landon’s eyebrows shot up. “Bears?”

  “Bears,” I confirmed. “Oh, and they could talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “Their names were Craig, Sheila and Sebastian,” I said. “They claimed I walked into their cabin last night and tried to sleep in all of their beds.”

  “You tried to … have sex with the bears?” Landon looked appalled.

  “No! You have a filthy mind. They had three beds. They said I tried them all out, claiming one was too hard, one was too soft, and one was … just right.”

  “Like the fairy tale,” Landon mused, rubbing his hands over my shoulders absent-mindedly.

  “Yes. This is a dream, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Landon said. “Can two people share the same dream?”

  I shrugged, lost. “Where did you wake up?”

  Landon scowled. “I woke up on a beach,” he said. “I was convinced it was a dream, just like you. It was dark, and I could hear water lapping the shoreline, and it really made me have to go to the bathroom.

  “So, I kind of rolled over,” he continued. “I reached for you. I expected to find you in the bed next to me. It was as though I was in that hazy spot between sleep and consciousness. You weren’t there, though.”

  I slipped a little closer to him. “Did you think I left you in bed alone?”

  “I thought you were in the bathroom or something,” Landon said. “When I felt for you, though, I realized it wasn’t a bed. I was on sand and, quite frankly, it was in my … underwear.”

  I fought the urge to laugh. He was so serious. Just being reunited with him was enough to make me smile, though. “Is it still in your underwear?”

  “Don’t try to distract me, Bay.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Then I heard something … splashing … in the water,” Landon said. “It took me a few minutes to realize I wasn’t dreaming. Or, to be more accurate, I still thought I was dreaming but I decided to go with the flow thinking I would eventually wake up.”

  “That’s what I did, too.”

  “Do you want me to high-five you?”

  He was grumpy. I guess I couldn’t blame him. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I kept hearing the splashing,” Landon said. “I rolled over, and do you know what I saw?”

  “Water?”

  “You’re cute, sweetie, but I can only take so much right now,” Landon warned.

  “You asked a question. I answered it.” Now I was starting to feel crabby, too.

  “I’m sorry,” Landon said, holding his hands up. “I just … we’re stuck in a dream together, Bay. We’re stuck in a dream together. You shared a cabin with bears and I … well … I woke up by an ocean.”

  “You said you heard splashing,” I said. “What was it?”

  “I … .” He was conflicted, as though he didn’t want to tell me what happened.

  “Landon, you’re going to have to tell me if you want us to figure this out,” I said.

  He pressed his lips together, averting his eyes.

  “What did you see?”

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “I just told you I saw three talking bears and you didn’t call me a liar once,” I said. “I think I’m ready to believe anything you have to tell me.”

  “There was a … woman … in the water,” Landon said.

  “A woman?”

  He nodded.

  “What kind of woman?”

  “The naked kind.”

  My heart dropped. “Did you … do something with the naked woman?”

  “Of course not,” Landon snapped.

  “It’s a dream,” I said. “Sometimes people do stuff in dreams that they wouldn’t do in real life.”

  “Who are you hanging out with in your dreams?”

  I balked. “No one.”

  “We’re going to talk about this later,” he warned. “I didn’t do anything with her. She was naked … and she … um … had a tail.”

  “A tail?”

  “She was a mermaid,” Landon said, finally gritting the words out. “Does that make you happy? She was a mermaid.”

  “Oh, man, are you kidding me?”

  Landon shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as though trying to ward off the world’s biggest headache. “She kept splashing and singing in this … horrific … voice.”

  “It’s like The Little Mermaid,” I said. “Another fairy tale.”

  “I thought that mermaid was supposed to have a beautiful voice?”

  “She is,” I said, thoughtful. “Did the mermaid have red hair?”

  Landon nodded.

  “Was she alone?”

  “As far as I could tell.”

  “No singing crustaceans or big sea hags hanging around, right?”

  “No. Just the naked mermaid. And she was … um … making suggestive comments.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “Are you saying the naked mermaid was hitting on you?”

  “Yes. I didn’t touch her, though! All I could think about was you.”

  “This is just so … odd.”

  “What was your first clue?” Landon asked, bewildered. “Was it the talking bears or the vulgar mermaid?”

  “How did you end things with the mermaid?”

  “She kept asking me whether I wanted to see her seashell,” Landon said, tilting his head to the side. “I didn’t, so I said my goodbyes and then I took off into the woods.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just kept walking. I had no idea where I was going. There was no light. I just … for some reason I knew to come in this direction. It was as if I felt you.”

  “You knew I was here?”

  “No. I knew I had to come in this direction. Until I actually saw you I didn’t know you were here with me. I thought you were home. I thought you were safe in your bed. I thought we were both safe in your bed and we were going to wake up any moment.”

  “Do you still think we’re dreaming?” I asked.

  “Do you?”

  I was starting to have my doubts. Still, there was no other rational explanation. “I don’t know how we could be sharing the same dream.”

  “Could it be magic?”

  “I’m not familiar with a lot of dream magic,” I said. “We don’t believe in using it.”

  “What is dream magic, and why don’t you use it?”

  I sighed. “Most people believe that your dreams are nothing more than your subconscious’ way of working out your day or the problems you’re grappling with while you’re awake,” I said. “There are some who believe your dreams are more.”

  Landon waited, silent.

  “Some people believe your dreams are wishes that can come true if you go after them,” I said. “Those people believe that … if you mess with someone’s dream and change the outcome … you’re tempting fate.”

  “Are you saying that messing with someone’s dream could affect their life?”

  “Some people believe that,” I said.

  “You keep saying ‘some people.’ What do you believe?”

  “I believe that dreams are just dreams,” I said. “I also believe that interrupting dreams can have a negative impact on people’s lives. I don’t think destroying a dream destroys a life, if that’s what you expect to me to say.

  “I do think that destroying a dream can make someone
sad, though,” I continued. “When I was a kid, all I had were dreams. I didn’t have a happy reality, so I always escaped into dreams. I would have hated for someone to ruin that for me.”

  Landon’s face softened. “Come here.” He pulled me in for a hug. “You can’t say stuff like that and not expect me to hug you.”

  I rested my face against his shoulder. “I’m not sure this is a dream.”

  “If it’s not a dream, what is it?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. The thing is, this could be a dream … as long as it’s just my dream. Maybe you’re a figment of my imagination. Maybe I conjured you into my dream because I needed you.”

  “That doesn’t explain how I’m aware of what’s going on,” Landon pointed out.

  “I know,” I said. “I just don’t think we could be sharing the same dream.”

  Landon rubbed his hand over his chin, thoughtful. “Could it be a spell?”

  That was a very good question. “If it’s not a dream, it has to be a spell.”

  “Who would have cast it?”

  “Well, my first guess is Aunt Tillie,” I said. “No one else has a reason to cast a spell on us.”

  “Do you think this is a way for her to distract us so she can sell her wine without repercussions?”

  “It’s possible. It’s just … .”

  “What?”

  “We’re not the only ones standing in her way,” I said. “She would have to curse Thistle, Clove, Mom, Marnie and Twila, too.”

  “Do you think they’re all here?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She could have cursed us all into our own different fairy tale worlds. I just don’t know.”

  “Go with your gut, sweetie,” Landon said. “If this is a spell, what do we have to do to break it?”

  “It’s either going to run its course because Aunt Tillie put a time limit on it or we’re going to have to solve the puzzle to get out ourselves,” I said.

  “What puzzle?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “There’s something so familiar about this. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “It’s fairy tales,” Landon said. “Your mother probably read them to you all the time when you were a kid.”

  “She did. Marnie and Twila did, too. This is … different.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just not … the same as I remember from when I was a kid.”

  “What do you want to do?” Landon asked. “Do you want to find a spot to hunker down in and wait for this to end or do you want to go looking to see whether anyone else is here?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I think we should work our way through the story,” I said. “If we wait, and there is no time limit, we’re burning time. At least this way we’ll be doing something.”

  “Okay,” Landon said, pressing another kiss to my forehead and linking his fingers with mine. “I’d rather be proactive, too. Which way?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “You’re magic, sweetie,” Landon said. “I mean that in more ways than one. You’re the one who is going to lead us out of this.”

  I bit my lip, warmth washing over me. He always knew the best way to make me feel better. I glanced around, debating which direction to head in, and then pointed. “That way.”

  “That’s as good a way as any,” Landon said. “Can I ask why you picked it?”

  “I just feel we need to go that way.”

  Landon smiled. “Then let’s go. I just hope the next fairy tale monstrosity can sing. There’s nothing worse than a tone-deaf mermaid with a vulgar tongue and sexual … issues.”

  I smirked. “Are you scarred for life?”

  “Let’s just say I’m never going to be able to watch that movie again without having a flashback and leave it at that,” he said, tugging my hand. “Come on. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to find some reinforcements. More minds can only mean more ideas on how to get us out of this.”

  “You realize more minds is going to mean more complaining, too, right?”

  “Oh, I know,” Landon said. “Since I’m a never-ending fount of complaints right now, though, I can take it. Misery loves company, right?”

  “I just know I love you right now,” I said.

  “Right back at you. Now, come on. These woods are starting to give me the creeps.”

  There are many different kinds of princesses. Some of them need a prince to save them. The best ones, though, save themselves. Always be the second kind of princess. You don’t need anyone else to save you – unless they have pie. If they have pie, go ahead and let them save you. You can always save yourself down the road. You might not find another decent pie for days.

  – Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up

  Four

  “Do you think it’s going to remain night the whole time we’re here, or are we eventually going to see daylight?” Landon asked.

  We walked the narrow pathway together, our hands clasped and shoulders occasionally touching. Neither one of us felt comfortable enough to wander too far from the one landmark we had. It was as though we both worried that separating would somehow zip one of us into separate fairy tales.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The good news is that the moon is really bright, so it’s lighting things relatively well. Do you miss the sun already?”

  “I don’t care about the sun as much as I do about the light,” Landon said. “If it was light out I wouldn’t constantly be looking over my shoulder and searching the shadows for something trying to attack us. This place makes me … uneasy.”

  I finally realized one of the reasons he was so uncomfortable. “You don’t have a weapon. You feel naked without it.”

  He shook his head, his expression rueful. “Do you think less of me because I want to take a gun to a fairy tale fight?”

  “Nothing could ever make me think less of you,” I said, gripping his hand tightly. “I love you regardless. Well, that’s not entirely true. If you ever tell me you have a clown fetish it’s over.”

  “You’re so cute I can’t stand it sometimes,” Landon said. His face sobered. “There aren’t any clowns in fairy tales, right?”

  I shook my head. “Not that I remember.”

  “Good,” Landon said. “I can take talking bears and nymphomaniac mermaids. I can’t take clowns, though.”

  “I didn’t know you were coulrophobic.”

  “I have no idea what that is,” Landon said. “If it’s gross, I’m going to deny having it, though.”

  “It’s a fear of clowns,” I said. “It’s a pretty common fear.”

  “I didn’t say I was afraid of them,” Landon said. “I said I didn’t like them.”

  “Because you’re afraid of them.”

  “I’m not afraid of them.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said. “I’m afraid of spiders.”

  “Whatever,” Landon said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not afraid of clowns.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  We were silent a few minutes, both of us scanning the foliage as we moved forward. We’d gone a long time without any surprises. That naturally meant we were about to encounter one. I don’t know how I knew that. I just did.

  When Landon opened his mouth again, he didn’t say what I was expecting. “I’m not afraid of clowns.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry I said it. I didn’t mean it. I was obviously mistaken.”

  “You were.”

  “Great.”

  More silence.

  “Bay?”

  “What?” I was starting to tire.

  “I don’t like their big shoes and white faces,” he said. “It’s unnatural for a grown man to wear a rubber ball on his nose and make balloon animals. I read Stephen King’s It when I was a kid and it scared the crap out of me.”

  I pursed my lips
to keep from laughing. “I felt the same way about Salem’s Lot,” I admitted. “I always thought there were vampires scratching at the window, trying to get in.”

  “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

  “It will be our little secret.”

  We lapsed into silence again. The fact that he’d admitted a fear bolstered me, and I had no idea why. It was as if he was letting me see deeper inside of him. He trusted me with something he couldn’t admit to anyone else. I was about to tell him what I was thinking when the sound of bitter complaining assailed my ears.

  I tilted my head to the side, listening.

  “This is absolutely the dumbest thing that has ever happened to me. If there were a list of dumb things in the world, this would be right on the top. It would be right next to Crocs and Snuggies.”

  Landon and I exchanged a look. “Thistle,” we said in unison.

  Landon kept steady hold of my hand as we stepped off the path and started wading through the heavy underbrush. After about two minutes of walking, the trees gave way and we found ourselves in an open area, looking out on a small pond. In the middle of that pond, standing on a huge rock with her hands on her hips, was Thistle. Unlike Landon and me, who had been able to keep access to our regular clothing, Thistle was dressed in a monstrous pink dress and had a tiara on her head.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “Nice dress.”

  Thistle snapped her head up, her usually pink hair now a dull shade of brown. She looked like a different person. “Thank the Goddess,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been hanging out with three bears,” I said. “They had a beautiful little cabin, kind of an enhanced shed more than anything else. Oh, and they could talk.”

  Thistle furrowed her forehead, and even from fifty feet away – and an expanse of water separating us – I could see her mind working. “They could talk? Did they say anything interesting?”

  “The kid bear thought I was a pothead,” I said. “Apparently I let myself into their cabin and tried to sleep in all of their beds.”

  “Are you suddenly a dream slut?” Thistle asked. “Are you making time with talking bears?”

  Landon scowled. “Stop being … you.”