When the storm roiled high, Freya, the captain, cursed the dysentery that had taken their wind-caller. She reminded her first mate to sail fast for nearest port, then stood on the bridge and waited.
The sea serpent reared its head up out of the sea, opening its mouth in a roar.
She landed, wrapping her arms and legs around the serpent’s neck. Sharp scales cut the skin of her arms as she inched higher. She drew her dagger and plunged it deep into the weak spot behind the creature’s jaw.
Together, snake and captain fell into deep water.
Author’s Note: It sucks when your spellcaster dies before the main boss shows up.
Hansel, grown, bashes at the gingerbread door until it crumbles under his shoulder.
Inside we stand in wonder and horror, gazing at familiar sugar concoctions covered in mold. I mutter that we shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t breathe the air, so he punches out a row of hard candy windows.
He opens the oven door on the witch’s body, a charred and twisted lump that the spiders have incorporated into their design concept for that interior. I feel myself beginning to be sick even before he says, “I hope you brought the shovels, Gretel, because this would absolutely sink my career.”
Author’s Note: Sometimes you have to clean up the skeletons in the oven before you can really feel secure.