Every now and then the perfect snowman is built. You know the sort…perfectly round body, expertly positioned arms, and perfectly balanced black top hat. That snowman never stays for long because there are so many people in the world building snowmen that it’s not fair to other builders if it stays for too long in the same place.
It doesn’t really seem fair to the snowman though. Being perfectly created and loved for just a brief moment before the perfection fades and it melts with the morning thaw. That’s was Agatha thought at least. And she was determined to do something about it.
Agatha was probably the only person in the world, so she thought, that could help the snowman so that it wouldn’t have to go away. Now, Agatha was only six years old and didn’t understand that maybe the snowman left because it loved putting smiles on everyone’s faces and the only way to do that was to leave. That never crossed her mind as she pulled down her box of crayons and paper from the shelf on her wall and set to work.
She drew her yard and the perfect snowman sitting in the middle of it. Then she tried to remember the words her mom used when she resurected their dog, cat, fish, bird, and turtle that Agatha accidently killed while copying her mom last summer. Oh yeah, and her dad too. She waved her hands over her picture and the words she remembered and added some she thought just sounded nice. Suddenly there was a puff of white smoke in front of her and the picture was gone. She was so proud of herself…that was until she heard screams coming from the backyard.
“AGATHA ELIZABETH GOOSEBERRY!!” her mother screamed from the yard. “HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU …”
Agatha covered her ears trying to drown out the screams and her mother’s complaints. She walked down stairs to get it over with though and opened the door to the backyard. Her mother stormed over to her and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out to the lawn.
“WHY!” Her mother pointed at the screaming snowman.
“I…I…I just wanted the perfect snowman to live forever.” Agatha started to cry listening to the snowman screaming.
Her father walked away shaking his head. Her mother stared at her daughter for a moment, took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Not in Aruba.”
Once upon a time in a far-off land well beyond the Pacific Ocean lived a witch in a cozy little shack by the sea. She was very happy and had everything she ever needed. You see, she was a clever witch who convinced the birds and sea creatures she was their creator. In return, they brought her food and trinkets they found on the ocean floor and in the forests far away. Now, she knew that if she was going to stay happy in her cozy little shack, she had to keep her subjects happy. She treated them with kindness and compassion. She cared for them when they were ill and cheered them up when they were down. One day she became bored and sent a great crane to find her something to read from a village far away. It took the crane three days and three nights to fly there. Once there, the people asked the crane what it was looking for. The crane told the story of the creator witch who lived in a cozy little shack by the sea and how the creator was bored and wanted something new to read. The villagers were shocked. Not by a talking crane, but by its story. They did not believe in the creator witch. They knew she must be using others, so she can be idle. Why else would someone living in such an idyllic place be bored? The villages put their heads together and hatched a plan to free the animals from their invisible bondage and teach the witch a lesson. They gave the crane a book and told him to read it before giving it to the witch. The crane thanked the villagers and began flying back to the witch. On the first night, he decided to read the book as the villagers said. He was amazed by what he read. By the time he had arrived back at the witch’s cozy little shack by the sea nearly two weeks had passed and he had a plan.
The history books tell of a great animal uprising that started a fire. The fire spread throughout the land, killing all in its path. Which is why today, we never allow talking animals to read Animal Farm.
This was written for the Three Things Challenge prompts: history, witch, Pacific Ocean
The man looked in the mirror one last time before heading out for the night. He adjusted his jet-black hair and grinned thinking about tonight’s adventure. Straightened his black tie and the collar on his freshly starched white shirt.
“Ahh, debonair,” he told his reflection.
He stepped into his sitting room and slipped on his white gloves, threw on his black cloak, and topped it off with his new black hat.
One last glance. He laughed, admiring his reflection. “Quite the nefarious lady-killer,” Jack said. He laughed as he left his house for another wonderful evening in the East End.
This 100-word story was inspired by Fandango’s One Word Challenge prompt: debonair, and the Word of the Day Challenge prompt: nefarious