Unedited, still in the super-rough-draft phase!
🤐
I climbed out of my kid-sized rental car to test the formidable iron gate, but left the engine running and the radio blasting. I wanted to make a good impression on the neighbors, you know, just in case the ripped jeans, sh*t-kicker boots and fitted Cherry Bomb tee weren’t enough to seal the deal.
The gate was locked. Of course it was, because I may be able to shoot fire out of my hands and suck a bad guy dry, but remembering a pesky little thing like keys is beyond me. I kicked the gate, hard, and felt the bones of my foot snap in response.
“***profanities redacted***,” I cursed and hobbled around like a three-legged goat. The pain peaked and ebbed while I waited for my bones to knitting back together. I didn’t have to wait long – by the time Freddy Mercury made it through the chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody, I was right as rain and feeling no pain.
I stared up the mountain, to my modest little castle perched high on the hill, and scanned the area for signs of life. Muttering under my breath, I turned and took stock of my surroundings.
The gate, while imposing, looked ready to rot off the hinges.
On the hunch that the gate was one heavy rain from falling into a rusty heap, I decided to try a little tappy-tap with the bumper of my car, a rust-bucket in its own right. It wasn’t one of my brightest ideas.
The gate, while imposing, looked ready to rot off the hinges.
On the hunch that the gate was one heavy rain from falling into a rusty heap, I decided to try a little tappy-tap with the bumper of my car, a rust-bucket in its own right. It wasn’t one of my brightest ideas.
I slammed the car in park, got out and surveyed the damage. The front of the car had folded like a cheap paper fan. It was a good thing the motor was in the caboose and that I’d purchased the extra insurance for a change.
I scowled back at the gate, then had an epiphany. I owned the damn thing, the land, the structures, and everything on it—or so the barrister had said—my magic should be able to give me instant access. I pressed my palms together, held them out in front of me, fingertips pointed at the gate, and said, “open sesame” while pulling my hands apart dramatically. Hell, if anyone was watching, I wanted to impress.
The gate swung open and I did a shameless little dance of glee. I’d done it and I only had to break my foot and the rental car in the process. I’d call that a win.
I sent a quick text to my sweeties (yeah, that kind of makes me want to barf too) letting Clive and Bette know that I’d managed to break into my own fortress after all. No cavalry needed.
“Stop him!” a scream cut through the air like a bullet.
My eyes snapped up from my phone and I froze, mouth gaping like a beached fish. A woman ran in my direction, down the whiplash driveway, arms pumping at her sides.
But that’s not what caught me off guard. No, that would be the eight-foot patchwork monster tearing up a path in front of her, his face contorted in a window-rattling howl.
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