Last week, Ben and the goblin (still unnamed? for shame) stuffed the witch into the oven before she could cook Ben. Then, her imp familiar returned home with a young goat.
…Obvious (innocent?) mistake .
Ben gaped at the kid. “That’s a…that’s a…”
“Well said.” The goblin frowned at Ben. “You’re not right in the head, are you?”
The young goat bleated and tugged against the lead as it wandered the kitchen.
The imp glowered at the two strangers in his home. The pale red of face deepened to a dark cherry. “How dare you!” It pointed a knobby finger at the oven door. “Step away from there. Immediately!”
Ben hastened to obey.
The goblin crossed its arms over its chest. “Or what?”
“Huff and puff,” the witch said from inside the oven.
A sharp whistle screamed through the kitchen.
Ben slammed his shoulder against the oven door.
The whistling stopped.
Ben leaned against the door and wiped his hand across his forehead.
The oven door tore from its hinges and shot across the room, knocking Ben to the floor. It clattered against the granite countertop. Wind roared through the kitchen. Inside the oven, a dark silhouette crawled to freedom. Black as charcoal, the witch stepped into the kitchen. Soot and ash piled on the floor at her feet. …Or were her feet.
Ben coughed and sputtered. Dust made his eyes burn and water.
The goblin flopped to its knees, bowing to the witch. “Don’t kill me, great lady. I was coerced.”
The witch snorted. It turned into a cough. Dust billowed from her mouth. “Cade!” She pointed a gnarled finger at the goblin.
The goblin’s eyes glazed over and it slumped against the floor tiles.
Ben poked the goblin with his finger. The goblin didn’t move. Ben blinked in the dust and ash, his brain floundering to catch a thought.
“And you?” The witch turned her red rimmed eyes on Ben. Her finger uncurled.
“Wait!” Ben stretched a hand toward her.
The witch paused. “This better be good.”
The imp nodded.
“It is.” Ben chewed his lip. “I want to live.”
“If wishes were hand grenades…” The imp grinned at its master.
The witch grimaced and shook her head. “Horses,” she muttered. She narrowed her eyes and focused her fury on Ben. “We all want to live.” She picked at a wart on her chin. “Except a vampire I once dated…”
Ben gulped. He knew he needed something to convince the witch to spare him, but as his mind raced, it failed to grasp any ideas.
So, what do you think will happen? What do you want to happen? Was it too short? Too long? Too unfunny?
Yep, that’s right. I’m soliciting comments and suggestions. I may even use them. No matter how wacky, zany, nerdy, or weird. No matter how serious, fanciful, or sci-fi. It’s a choose your own adventure. You choose what happens next.