On 21 September 2016, these three words were chosen:
And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!
Jax carefully measured the honey before adding it to the mixture. It was the final ingredient that was needed. A mischievous smile formed upon his lips as the concoction changed to a dark smoky gray. “Perfect,” he uttered. All he had to do now was find a way to feed it to the queen and the threat would be neutralized. She had no idea how dangerous her current suitor was, but one sip of this and his true form would be revealed.
The threat is in honey,” Martin said seriously. “If we don’t stop using it, the bees may go elsewhere.”
“Martin, please,” I chastised, “there is no way it’s a honey issue. After all the research and testing we’ve done, it’s the atmosphere that poses the largest problem to continuation of mankind.”
“I think it’s the stupid people,” Mona muttered to herself. I shot her a dark look and she shrugged.
“What mischief is going on in here?” Hess said as he breezed in the doorway of the small planetary land ship.
I quickly put my shoulders back and smiled. He met my gaze but they passed by and settled on Mona. He wasn’t even paying attention. I cringed inside. I have the worst taste. That is my taste doesn’t taste back. Mona finally looked up and scowled. That only made Hess smiled more broadly. I shuffled out of the room. I had work to do. Important things. Very important things.
“How did you like your tea, my dear?” Ms. Jensen inquired, trailing a withered finger around the rim of her cup.
Jade wanted to lie, but a sixth sense told her that would not be a good thing to do. She groped for words, trying to find the most favorable way to put this.
“It could have used a little honey,” she finally said.
Ms. Jensen nodded, her eyes fixed on the tea leaves. She spent long silent moments gazing at it, her face leaning closer and closer, until Jade was afraid she was going to fall off the chair.
“Ms. Jensen?” she said, reaching a hand out to catch her if the woman had indeed drifted off to sleep.
Jade stood, and gently touched the woman on the shoulder. Ms. Jensen’s head rolled to the side, her mouth hanging open, only the whites of her eyes showing. Jade shrieked, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest as she stumbled back, tripped over the coffee table, and fell to the floor. She sat frozen in terror as Ms. Jensen righted herself, sitting ramrod straight in the cushy red armchair, white eyes glowing.
“Only the Chosen can dance the moondance and survive, for only the chosen can live double lives.” She paused, her eyes cleared, and she peered about the room as if wondering where she was.
“What are you doing on the floor, my dear?” she asked Jade. Jade told her what happened, and repeated what the old woman had said, then asked “What does it mean?”
Ms. Jensen sank back into the sanctuary of her chair. “Mischief is coming, methinks,” she said, her voice somehow more ominous than before.
“Wow this is sticky” he said pulling his hand from her thigh.
She wanted to say something witty back to him but she was still clinging to the hope the mood wouldn’t be completely destroyed by this horrible use of honey.
“I thought you liked it sticky and sweet” she purred.
He got a mischievous smile and then placed his hand right back where it was. She began to move his hand up her thigh but it wouldn’t budge. He was now actually stuck. With every motion of trying to free himself there was a threat of him actually tearing her skin off.
She tried to remain calm but finally yelped when he pulled too hard.
“I am so sorry” he said. This wasn’t his fault, it was hers. She thought using spun honey seemed like a sexy idea, but it was either too cold or too warm or whatever that caused a caustic plastering effect.
“Don’t worry… Umm… Want to try a shower? She asked hopefully. He nodded, however she wasn’t sure how they would actually get there.
Miss Clara stood at the bottom of the stairs, yelling in the general direction of the ceiling, “If you kids are into any mischief, there’s gonna be trouble!” Her threat boomed loudly, but there was no answer, just a few scuttling noises. What were those kids up to? “Come on, answer up now!”
Clara stepped up one more stair, listening. Usually, the boss’ children were banging around the house, wreaking havoc and getting the bumps, scrapes and bruises that all God’s children wore like medals of honor. She let them, mostly, so long as they didn’t interfere with her work. But, it had been far too quiet. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them in over half an hour. She’d hardly noticed, since she’d been listening to the Hardy Happy Tunes hour on the wireless while she did the dishes. She’d only noticed the silence from upstairs after she’d turned off the box, humming the last few strains of the closing music. Harlow Hardy sounded so handsome, him with all his jazzy friends.
The boys still hadn’t answered. If she yelled too much, they’d complain to their father, she’d never hear the end of it. With a voice dripping honey, she changed tack. “Sweet darling children, I’m serving pie soon. Anyone want a slice? Cherry or apple?” Complete silence. She was starting to worry now. She felt something wrong, her bones said so.
She started walking up the stairs when she heard it. Sounded like metal scraping, and from the direction of the kitchen she’d just walked out of. She should really be getting mad now, but all she could get was the chills.
“This is not funny, boys!” she squeaked. She already knew they weren’t behind this, but didn’t want to admit out loud that there was some terrible force at work. In her kitchen. She stepped back off the stairs, and grabbed the master’s rifle off the sideboard in the hall, before heading into the kitchen.
“Don’t you try those honeyed words with me,” Maisy told Seth in a threatening tone. “I know who you are.” She narrowed her eyes at him, then did a slow slide from his face down his chest, lingering around his hips, “I know where them hips have been,” and then back up to his face again. “I don’t want none of your mischief around here.”
“Now Maisy,” Seth began, and though he tried not to, his voice was always the same sexy sultry mix that most women found irresistibly charming. Everyone except Maisy of course. For this witch, the voice he’d been using to waltz his way through a charmed life was life nails on a child’s slate. Not that he cared. It wasn’t like he was trying to seduce the witch. He was only here to pick up a few simple supplies for a friend. Nothing implied. And yet here she was yelling at him. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
“You’re not my old friend,” Maisy snapped. “You’re related to a really old, really respected, really amazing person who happens to be my best friend—and if it weren’t for that, I’d have done this world—not to mention a few others, if you keep on down this current path you’re on, mind—a favor by getting rid of you.” She stared at him long and hard. “You’ve got so much to learn, young man. You’re lucky you have that blood in your veins.”
Seth tried to shrug the words off, casually smirking at her, but something inside ran cold at her words. Other worlds? That was the last thing that gypsy said before they stopped talking for the night.