The Little Match Boy

The Little Match Boy

Dylan shivered in the frigid wind, snow blowing all around him. He felt lucky that he still had his coat and shoes. The man who robbed him last night attempted to take those as well. Dylan woke up in time to run away, but he lost his backpack and everything in it. Three nights on his own and now he owned only the clothes on his back, three dollars and thirty-seven cents, a stick of gum, and a matchbook with three remaining matches. Pathetic. The wind and snow drove him to get up and get moving again. The cops moved him along if he stayed in one place too long anyway. He got up, brushed the snow off his clothes and walked off into the night, destination unknown.

Dylan considered the last three days of his life, while he searched for a place to crash for the night. He turned fourteen three days ago. The day began awesomely. His fourteenth birthday, a week before Christmas, everything seemed perfect to him. He thought that telling his parent would make things even better. He thought they would understand. He thought they loved him no matter what. So, with a broad grin on his face, Dylan walked into the family room and told his parents that he was gay. Their reaction shocked him. His mother burst into tears and ran out of the room. His father demanded that he stop lying and admit that he was straight. Dylan almost did just that, but he decided that he had come this far, he had to be honest with them and with himself.

Dylan’s mother returned to the room and dropped his backpack on the floor at his feet. This confused him at first, and he looked from his mother to his backpack and back again. She didn’t even look him in the eye, she just told him to leave. She didn’t want him and his sinful ways infecting his little brother. Dylan burst into tears, picked up the backpack and left the only home he had ever known.

A cry for help brought Dylan out of his memories and back into the cold reality of his new life. The sound came from an alley of to his right. He ran to the opening and looked towards the sounds. A man stood over a young boy. The boy, sprawled on the wet pavement, noticed Dylan and yelled louder. “Help! He’s stealing all my stuff! Help!”

That’s when Dylan noticed his own backpack slung over the man’s shoulder. “Hey!” Dylan yelled, running towards the man. “Give that stuff back!” The man glanced back at Dylan and then took off running. “Crap,” Dylan said. “that guy has my stuff, too.” Dylan extended his hand to the other boy to help him up. “I’m Dylan. What’s your name?”

The other boy stood up and brushed as much of the snow and dirt off himself as he could. “Thanks a lot, bro. My name is Jason, but please call me Jay.” Jay looked down at his feet. “I can’t believe he stole my shoes and my socks. I hate to think of what else may have happened if you hadn’t come. Thanks again, Dylan.” Jay wrapped his arms around himself, shaking with cold.

“Jay? Where do you live? Can I walk you back there?” Dylan asked with trepidation. Afraid that this boy, like him, may not have a home to go back to.

Jay frowned. “I ran away. My parents died in a car crash last year. I’ve been living with my aunt, but things haven’t been great. My uncle gets drunk and mean almost every night.” Jay scowled and didn’t meet Dylan’s eyes.

“Hey, I understand. No sweat, bro. No judgments from me. Do you have any other clothes, or did he get everything?” Dylan asked.

“He stole everything I had. Even my shoes and socks. I might have to try a shelter tonight, even though most are almost as dangerous as the streets.” Jay’s eyes glistened with tears, but he held firm and did not cry. “Don’t worry about me, Dylan. You look like you have as many problems as I do.”

Dylan sighed. “I guess. My parents kicked me out because I’m gay. My perfect little life blew up three days ago, on my fourteenth birthday no less. I totally misjudged my parents. My mom told me she didn’t want my sinful, disgusting ways to infect my little brother. Being gay isn’t a disease!” Dylan kicked a rock across the alley and clenched his fists. “I just don’t understand how they could do that to me. I’m their son. Aren’t they supposed to love and support me no matter what?”

“Gee, bro, I’m sorry. Yeah, that really sucks. People get so stupid about that stuff. Who you love shouldn’t matter to anyone but you. I’m only twelve, and I understand that. What’s the matter with parents?” Jay put his hand on Dylan’s shoulder to try and comfort him.

Dylan shrugged his shoulders. “Thanks, Jay. I appreciate it. I have some things I want to give you. I can’t just leave you like this. That dick took your shoes and socks for crying out loud. And it’s snowing!” Dylan sat on a nearby fire escape and took off his shoes and socks. He handed the socks to Jay and put his shoes back on. Before the boy had a chance to thank him, Dylan took off his jacket and his hoodie. He tossed the hoodie to Jay and put his coat back on. Next, he emptied his pockets and looked at his remaining belongings. He handed Jay the stick of bubblegum and one matchstick, leaving himself with three dollars and thirty-seven cents and two matches. “I hope that helps. Jay. It’s the best I can do. Kids like us got to stick together. Take care of yourself, bro.”

Jay couldn’t believe it. “Dylan, this is too much. I can’t take all this.” He lost his battle to not cry as tears streamed down his face. “This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me since my parents died. What am I supposed to do with the match though?” Through his tears, Jay smiled as he asked about the match.

Dylan just smiled. “Keep it. All of it. I don’t need it. Maybe you can start a fire somewhere with the match and warm yourself up. Take care of yourself, Jay. See you around.” Dylan turned and left the alley, taking one last look back and waving to Jay as he turned the corner.

Dylan fought his way through the wind and snow as he made his way through town. The snow pelted his face, coming down harder than ever. He walked closer to the buildings, trying to avoid the worst of the wind. He bent his head forward and attempted to walk faster. He needed to find a safe place to sleep soon, exhaustion was overtaking his body. He heard a noise and stopped. He looked all around and then noticed someone huddled in the doorway of the building he just walked past. Dylan turned and walked back to the doorway and peered in. An old man shivered, wrapping his arms around his knees, trying to stay warm. The man wore no coat, no hat, no gloves. Dylan bent down next to the man.

“Sir, are you ok? Is there somewhere you can go? It’s snowing pretty hard.” Dylan shook the man’s shoulder.

The man slowly looked up. “The shelters filled up before I got there. I’ll shelter here tonight. I’ve survived worse.” The old man tried to smile reassuringly. “What about you, son. Why are you out on such a snowy night?”

“My parents kicked me out. Then a man robbed me, so I left that place, too. I’m looking for a new place to crash. Right now, I’m more worried about you, sir.” Dylan said.

“Don’t worry about an old man like me. I’ve survived two wars and three divorces; a little snow won’t kill me.” He tried to laugh but ended up coughing.

Dylan frowned and stood up. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders, then he handed the old man his gloves. “Take these. Don’t even try to say no. You need them more than I do.” He reached into his pocket and took out the matchbook. He ripped one of the two remaining matches out of the book and handed it to the old man. “Here, sir. Take this, too. Maybe when it stops snowing, you can light a fire.” Dylan shrugged and gave the man a half-smile.

“Thank you, son.” The man said with tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “You don’t even know how many people walked right past me tonight and none stopped except you. You may be just a boy, but you have a bigger heart than any grown man I have ever known. Take care of yourself. I will never forget you.” Holding back tears of his own, Dylan said goodnight to the old man, turned and continued with his search for a place to sleep.

Dylan barely walked two blocks before he heard another noise that stopped him in his tracks. He heard loud banging and what sounded like a baby crying from behind the supermarket. Curious and concerned, he, once again, abandoned his own quest and investigated possible trouble. Dylan turned the corner and couldn’t believe his eyes. A baby sat in a beat-up stroller, alone, beside a big green dumpster. Dylan ran up to check the condition of the baby. He barely had any clothes of his own left, he had no idea how he would keep a baby warm if no one came back for it. Just before he reached the stroller, a girl’s head appeared from inside the dumpster and shouted at him.

“Hey! You! Help! I’m stuck in here. I reached in to see if I could find any food for Olivia and me, but I slipped and fell, and now I can’t get out.” The girl said while waving over at Dylan. “Please!”

Dylan walked over to the dumpster. He stepped up on a wooden crate and reached his arm over the side of the dumpster. When he felt the girl grab on, he pulled her out. They both fell off the crate, the girl landing on top of him. She smiled down at him. “Thanks a million, doll.” She kissed his forehead and got up.

Dylan blushed and looked more closely at her. She didn’t look much older than him. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, if he had to guess. “You’re welcome. I’m Dylan. Glad I could help. Why are you out here with your baby? I’m frozen. Your baby must be even colder.”

The girl turned towards Dylan. “I’m Natalie, and this is my son, Alexander. There’s nowhere for us to go. My mom kicked me out when I got pregnant, and Alex’s father won’t even admit he’s his son. The ignorant bastard.” Natalie’s voice held a mixture and anger, sadness and despair.

“I’m so sorry, Natalie. I’ve only been out here on the streets for three days, and I’ve already heard such horrible stories of what people do to each other. It’s overwhelming.” Dylan said.

“What’s your own sad story, Dylan? Why are you out here?” Natalie asked, placing her hand on Dylan’s arm.

“My parents kicked me out because I’m gay. They kicked me out on my fourteenth birthday no less! I… I thought my parents would love me no matter what.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “I thought they’d be cool with it, but they kicked me out with just a backpack full of stuff. And the backpack was stolen just two days later!” He shrugged. “Other people have it worse than me. I can see that already. It’s rougher out here than you can ever imagine when you’re safe at home. I never thought about the people, the kids, out here on the streets. It really sucks.”

Natalie nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it does suck. We’ll find a way to make it, though. I’m sure you will, too. You seem very smart and strong. And the sweetest guy I’ve met in a long time.” She smirked and winked at him, causing him to blush. “Anyway, this dumpster was a bust. We’re going to look for another one. You want to join us?”

Dylan shook his head. “Nah, I’m going to keep looking for a new place to crash. Good luck with your search.” Dylan dug into his pants pocket and pulled out the contents. “Here, I know it’s just three dollars and thirty-seven cents, but I don’t know, maybe you can get baby food or something. I don’t even know how expensive that stuff is” He shrugged. “And take this match and my beanie. Find somewhere out of the snow and light a fire to get warm. Alex looks really cold.”

Natalie hugged him and kissed his cheek, eliciting yet another episode of blushing. “Thank you so much, Dylan. We’ll never forget you. Good luck with finding a place to sleep.”

Dylan turned and left. Now with empty pockets, no hat, no jacket, no hoodie, no socks, and no gloves, he walked off and continued his quest for a warm place to sleep.

Dylan’s could barely feel his face, his hands, or his feet by the time he heard the bells. The church! The church bells always sounded at midnight on Christmas Eve. Shivering uncontrollably, Dylan headed in the direction of the bells. He hoped the pastor left the church unlocked. A warm building, any warm building, filled his thoughts. Dylan saw the lights of the church at the end of the street. Just a few more yards. Then the world spun, and everything went black. Dylan collapsed into the snow.

Dylan heard a voice and felt warm hands rubbing his arms and face. “My dear boy, wake up. I need to get you into the church where it’s warm, but I’m not sure I can carry you there by myself.” The voice said. Dylan blinked his eyes, trying to open them. They felt frozen shut. Ice crusted on his eyelashes. He finally opened his eyes and stared up at the person trying to lift him out of the snow. It was a lady, maybe a little older than his mom. Her small frame struggled just to keep his upper body out of the snow while she tried to rub warmth into his arms and hands.

Dylan groaned. “Where am I? What’s happening?” Weak and disoriented, he tried to sit up. “Who are you?”

“I’ll answer all of your questions as soon as we’re inside, young man. Let’s get you out of this snow.” The lady helped him to his feet, and they walked into the church and sat in the back pew. “I am Amelia. I came here to pray, and when I left, I found you in the snow. I should be asking you the questions, but first let me get you a blanket or an old coat from the church’s donation bin.” Amelia left him sitting on the bench, lost in his thoughts. She returned a few minutes later with both a big puffy jacket and a blanket. Dylan quickly put on the coat and wrapped the blanket around himself as tightly as he could.

“Thank you so much, Amelia. I… I think you might have saved my life. My name is Dylan. I’ll tell you anything you want to know… as soon as my teeth stop chattering.” Dylan gave Amelia a half-smile and pulled the blanket even tighter around himself.

Amelia thought about taking Dylan to her house, but she didn’t want to chance taking him back out in the cold yet. She gave him the time he needed to warm up before asking him any more questions. When he felt a bit warmer, Dylan looked at Amelia and began his story. He told her everything. From his parents kicking him out to the man stealing his backpack and everything that happened to him tonight. When he finished, they both had tears streaming down their faces.

Dylan pulled back from her a little and spoke. “You seem like a church lady, just like my parents. If you want to kick me out of this church now that you know I’m gay I understand.” He sobbed. The tears now freely flowing down his cheeks.

Amelia started crying even harder. “Oh no, Dylan. Never. No one should kick anyone out of church. And you… you’re the sweetest angel I have ever met.” She reached over and wiped away his tears. “The bible I read teaches love not hate. Your parents were wrong to kick you out. You’re only fourteen! The things you’ve done amazing things tonight and I believe that God led me here to save your life as you may have saved three other lives tonight. I woke out of a sound sleep with a burning desire to come here to this church and pray. I can’t explain why. I’ll just call it a Christmas miracle. Right after the bells rang to signal Christmas, I left the church and found you face down in the snow! God doesn’t care that you’re gay. He cares that you have more love in your heart than any other person I’ve ever met. He brought me here to save you. I truly believe that. Dylan. I’m bringing you home with me tonight if that’s ok with you. We’ll talk about plans beyond that after I feed a nice big breakfast tomorrow morning. No one should ever make plans on an empty stomach.” She looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I think I’d like that, Amelia,” Dylan said, a genuine smile forming on his face for the first time in days. “Oh yeah, Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Dylan.” Amelia took his hand in hers, and they walked out of the church. The snow finally stopped falling, and the light of the full moon lit their way home.

Rise of the Cursed Twins (Chapter 4)

Chapter 4

The boy stood at the top of the hill and looked down at the town. His blonde hair was slicked back from the driving rain, his bare feet ankle-deep in mud, and his hands clenched into fists that hung limply at his sides. The boy howled in rage into the storm that swirled all around him. His energy was now spent, and he collapsed in a heap and slept until the bright, hot morning sun woke him.

The confidence with which the tall, lanky boy strolled into the village, contrasted with his dirty appearance and ragged clothing. His bare feet slapped the hard-packed dirt street with each step as he slowly scanned the storefronts before deciding what he should do. A look of fierce determination on his young face, he stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and entered the blacksmith shop. He stopped just inside the door, blinking his pale green eyes, adjusting to the dim interior of the shop. Brushing his unruly blonde hair out of his face, he walked towards the large man hammering away at the forge. Though tall for his age, Bart felt utterly dwarfed by the blacksmith. The smith was clearly a foot taller and two hundred pounds heavier than Bart’s five foot six and a hundred and twenty pounds.

The smith caught sight of Bart, turned towards the boy, and bellowed. “Boy! Why are you in my shop?! You do not look like a paying customer! Get out now!” The smith waved one hand dismissively at Bart, trying to point Bart back towards the door.

Bart felt the old, familiar rage boiling inside of him. He took one deep breath, held it for a moment, and released the anger and the breath. At thirteen, Bart now had near-perfect control of his emotions, especially anger. He had to. Rage was a near-constant companion for Bart. The only constant companion he had ever had. With his feelings again under control, Bart raised one dirty hand, brushed a stray lock of blonde hair out of his pale green eyes, and looked up at the man still yelling for him to get out of the shop. This time, it was the blacksmith who was kicking him out. Bart didn’t need to hear what the man said as he had been getting the same reaction from every shopkeeper in every village for the last two months. He wasn’t asking for handouts. He just wanted to do some chores in exchange for food and maybe a warm place to sleep for a couple of nights. Bart’s thin frame was weakening from lack of food and little sleep. He needed both desperately. Bart focused back in on what the blacksmith was saying to him.

“Get out of my shop now, boy. I already have an apprentice to do all the necessary chores, and your filthy stink is driving away my customers. You smell like the inside of a cow stall. Get out.”

“Please, sir, I haven’t eaten for days. I am willing to do whatever work you have that needs doing. I need a little food. Please. I don’t want a handout. I’m willing to work hard at any task you give me.” Bart looked directly into the blacksmith’s eyes, pleading with him one last time.

The blacksmith, unmoved by Bart’s plea for help, turned his head and yelled.” Andrew, get your lazy behind out here and get this filthy beggar out of my shop, now!” A tall, wide-shouldered boy lumbered out of the back room, a look on his face like an angry storm cloud. He leaned a battered-looking broom against the wall and wiped his large hands on the dirty apron hanging at his waist. Though he was not much older than Bart, Andrew’s body rippled with muscles. He had been working for the blacksmith for several years and eating more often than Bart ever had. Bart saw the boy walking towards him and started to go back to the door. Andrew closed the distance between himself and Bart in seconds and, without warning, gave him a two-handed shove to the chest, knocking Bart backward through the open door. Bart lost his balance and fell into the dusty street outside the blacksmith shop. Bart struggled to his feet and was immediately struck in the left eye by Andrew’s massive right fist. Bart attempted to get back to his feet, but the apprentice hit him in the face again. This time, the boy’s fist split Bart’s lip open. Dazed, Bart felt the blood dripping down his chin as he closed his eyes and tried to get the world to stop spinning. Andrew grabbed Bart by the back of his shirt and dragged him across the street. Bart tried to struggle free of the bigger boy’s grasp. Bart’s struggles only succeeded in getting him repeatedly kicked in the ribs.

Andrew looked down at the battered and bloody boy at his feet. “Never come back to this shop again. My master does not want you here. If you return, I will beat you even worse.” Andrew turned without another word and stalked back to the blacksmith shop.

Bart groaned in agony. His left eye throbbed and was already swollen shut. He ran his tongue over the cut on his lip and tasted fresh blood still dripping from the wound. His chest hurt if he tried to breathe too deeply, hopefully, bruised and not broken ribs. Bart rolled himself into a sitting position and leaned his back against the side of the building. He glowered across the street at the blacksmith shop with his one good eye. His body shook as the rage flowed through him. Bart was furious. His hands balled into tightly clenched fists, and little half-moons of blood sprouted up under his fingernails. He gritted his teeth to prevent himself from howling in rage. He looked down and saw a large bruise already forming where the boy had roughly gripped his arm and dragged him across the street. Bart clenched his fists tighter and felt the blood from his palms dripping down the sides of his hands.

Bart closed his eyes and pictured what he wanted to do to the blacksmith’s apprentice. Bart imagined what he wanted to do to the blacksmith. He envisioned what he wanted to do to everyone around him. Bart hated them. He hated them all. Even the few people who had ever been kind to Bart, he hated them most of all. The nicer someone was to him, the more he hated them. He knew that someday they would betray him. They all always did. So, if he let himself care, he would open himself up to even worse pain. Therefore, the people who acted as if they liked him were the most dangerous of all. He had to push them away even further than the rest. As Bart pictured all this in his mind, he felt a surge of energy, and his whole body itched and tingled. His pain seemed to lessen slightly, and Bart opened his eyes and stood up. He glanced at the blacksmith shop one last time and saw the apprentice still looking out of the shop towards him. Bart turned and walked up the street away from the shop, still plotting revenge.

He had to get away for now. He had to get his anger under control and decide what to do next. The first thing he needed to do was clean himself up. His hands were bloody, and he was even dirtier than he was before. Bart walked further up the dusty street. He saw an inn and thought he could clean up and maybe beg for food. He looked through the inn’s window and saw a middle-aged woman tending the bar and a young girl waiting tables and serving food. He hoped the middle-aged woman was the inn owner. She looked like someone who might help a young boy in trouble. He wasn’t sure what he would say to her, but he stepped forward and pushed through the door to the inn. He only took a few steps into the inn when suddenly he became very dizzy. The room started to spin, and he collapsed on the floor. As he lost consciousness, Bart thought he heard a glass break and a woman scream.

After Bart walked up the street, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the building. The individual was wearing a heavy black cloak and had the hood pulled all the way forward, completely covering their face. The figure glided over and bent down right where Bart had been sitting in the grass. The once lush green grass was now yellow, dry, and wilted. There were also drops of Bart’s blood on the grass from the cuts on his hands and lip. The figure extended one sickly grey hand out, pulled up some yellowed grass, rolled it between his long, bony fingers, and dropped it back to the ground. He wiped up a spot of the blood and licked it off his finger with his pointed yellow tongue. The figure nodded to himself, knowing that the boy had finally used magic, even if he was unaware of that fact. With one wave of his hand, the figure turned the yellowed grass green again, wiping away any trace of magic. The Shadowkin called Ihlvo turned and faded back into the buildings’ shadow. The child of Bahaar was growing in power. Soon, Ihlvo’s plans would begin in earnest.

Bart felt a presence hovering over him, and he slowly opened his right eye. The worried face of the middle-aged woman, the woman he had seen just before he entered the inn, greeted him. Bart pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Wha-what happened?”

The woman steadied Bart with a hand on his shoulder. “You poor boy. You stumbled into my inn and collapsed on the floor! You look terribly beaten! Who has done such an evil thing to such a sweet, innocent boy?!” Tears dripped from her eyes, and she looked down at Bart as if he were her own son.

Bart decided it best not to mention the blacksmith or the apprentice. Instead, he told a story of strangers on the road brutally attacking him. “Ma’am, there were two of them. Big men. I never saw what they looked like. They beat me, took everything I had, and left me by the side of the road. When I woke, I made my way here to this inn. It took all the strength I had to make it this far. I guess I passed out. If someone could help me up, I will be out of your way as soon as I rest for a bit.” He sighed and lay back on the floor.

“No. No. No. You are not going anywhere, my dear boy.” She looked back over her shoulder at the people in the inn. “Jonah! Help this boy up and sit him at the table by the corner window.” Next, she yelled at one of her servers. “Emily! Go to my room, get the little black pouch by my bed, and then get me a steak from the kitchen. Move! Both of you!” She looked back down at Bart. “My name is Cecilia Greene. You are going to be staying with me for a while. What is your name?”

“I am Bartholomew. You can call me Bart, though. I don’t want to be any trouble. Really.”

“Quiet, little one. It is no trouble at all. My own sons moved off on their own to start their own families. Let me take care of you. Now you sit back and tell old Cecilia everything that happened while I tend to your cuts and bruises.” Emily arrived with the first aid pouch, and Jonah finished helping Bart to the table by the window. Cecilia sent the two off on other errands and inspected Bart’s wounds closely before starting her work.

Bart winced in pain each time Cecilia cleaned a cut or applied some ointment to a bruise, but he talked through the pain. Deep down, he knew he didn’t want Cecilia, or anyone else, to learn of his fight at the smithy. Therefore, he spun Cecilia a different tale.

“I have been traveling on my own for a long time. I mostly stick to the forest and fend for myself. I try to avoid people as much as I can, especially towns. I… don’t have much luck dealing with people.” Bart cast his eyes downward. He cleared his throat and continued his story. “I was in the woods northwest of the village. Hunting was getting me nowhere. I could find no game anywhere. The fish weren’t biting. I haven’t eaten in four days! I was so hungry that I left the forest against my better judgment and found the road leading into town. I hoped to find work to earn money to buy some food. About a half-mile or so from the town, two men jumped me. They were hiding behind an overturned wagon, and as I passed the wagon, they attacked. When I woke up, I hurt everywhere. I was lying in a ditch on the side of the road, bloody and bruised. Everything I had with me, which wasn’t much to begin with, was gone: my knife, my fishing pole, and a few coins, all gone. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure if they were still around. I was scared they might attack me again and kill me this time, so I got up and made my way into town. I saw the inn and hoped maybe I could clean myself up here. I guess I passed out. I woke up, and you were there. Thank you for taking care of my cuts. I don’t know how I can ever repay you. I have nothing now.” Bart lowered his gaze again. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, surprised at the depth of his own emotions.

Cecilia patted his arm. “Don’t worry about paying me for helping you, and don’t worry about leaving my inn. You said you came into town looking for work to get some food. I have plenty of work for you to do around here. I am always looking for someone to help with things. You rest and heal. When you are back on your feet, I will put you to work, and then we can talk about wages and repayments.” Cecilia turned her head toward Jonah, who was still at the table listening attentively to everything the young stranger had to say. “Jonah, go to the kitchen and get Bart something to eat. For now, get him some bread, cheese, and a big bowl of hot soup, and we’ll see if we can fill his hungry belly.” Cecilia patted Bart’s arm again and smiled at the boy. She got up from the table and called Emily. “Emily, get Bart a pitcher of water and keep him company until Jonah returns with dinner.”

Bart found himself smiling, which confused him. He genuinely liked Cecilia. She was kinder to him than anyone had been in longer than Bart could remember. Cecilia offered him food, a place to sleep, and a job. There was no way Bart would say no. After all, it was what he had come to town for. He had just not planned on feeling this way about someone. The only emotions Bart could ever remember feeling were anger and hate. Cold hatred or burning hot rage. This warm feeling of affection was new to him, and it confused him. Emily returned to the table with a water pitcher, interrupting his thoughts. Emily was a beautiful girl. He guessed her to be about sixteen, three years older than him. She had long blonde hair tied back to keep it from her face while working. Bart stood to pull the chair out for her to sit, and he noticed he was slightly taller than she was.

When Bart pulled the chair out for her, Emily set the pitcher of water down, leaned over, and kissed Bart on the cheek. “Such a sweet boy. Even though you are in terrible pain, you are still a fine young gentleman. Some girl will be lucky to have you someday.” Emily smiled and sat across the table from Bart.

The rage appeared quick and powerful; he almost couldn’t control it. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and took deep breaths. The kindness from Emily triggered the old familiar anger. Bart was even more confused now than before. What was it about Cecilia that allowed him to like her? He didn’t know, but he wanted to. He desperately wanted to be able to like people. He knew he had to spend more time with Cecilia and figure out what was different about her.

Bart opened his eyes and saw the worried look on the face of Emily. “Sorry.” He said through clenched teeth. “My ribs hurt really bad.” He took another deep breath and exhaled the rage as he had taught himself to do. He looked back at Emily again. “Thank you for your kind words, Emily. I can’t remember when people were as nice to me as you and Cecilia.” He stuttered and stammered another thank you as he poured himself a glass of water.

Before long, Jonah arrived with a plate of food for Bart. “Emily, Cecilia wants you to get back to work. Customers are waiting for their food.” As Emily left the table, Jonah slipped into her chair. He folded his hands and stared across the table at Bart. “Who are you really? And what happened to you? Bandits don’t roam the streets of this town. And if they did, why would they bother with a scrawny beggar like you?” Jonah sneered at Bart. “I don’t believe one word of your story. I’m going to keep an eye on you. Cecilia is a good person, and I won’t have you take advantage of her good nature.”

Bart sat back, folded his hands in front of himself, and took two long, deep breaths. He looked directly at Jonah. “Every word I told Cecilia is true, Jonah. Why would I lie? Look at me. Aren’t my bruises all the proof you need? What more do you want?”

Jonah stared at Bart for a minute. “I’m not sure. I don’t trust you. Your story is ridiculous. Your injuries are real, though. I’ll give you that.” Jonah squinted his eyes, deep in thought. “I… just don’t know.”

Bart looked down, fiddled with his hands, and looked back at Jonah. Even though he hated this boy, he needed to stay at the inn for now, so he had to get everyone here to like and trust him. Bart had learned to smile and charm people into liking him, even though he hated them. He bottled up the hate and smiled at Jonah. “Please, Jonah. Give me a chance to prove myself. I don’t want handouts. I am willing to work hard for anything Cecilia does to help me. I’m not lying to you. I was badly beaten, and I have nothing except the clothes I’m wearing.”

Jonah sighed. “Ok, Bart. I won’t cause you any trouble with Cecilia, but I’m still not sure I believe you. If you stay, we’ll probably work together on lots of chores. Let’s get to know each other better. How long have you been on your own? My own parents died two years ago. I’ve been staying here at the inn with Cecilia ever since.”

Bart avoided as many of Jonah’s questions as he could. He deflected other questions back at Jonah and changed the subject as often as was possible. Part of the reason was that he didn’t want Jonah to know much about him, but mostly, it was because Bart did not know much about his own childhood. He didn’t know who his birth parents were or even where he was born. Bart bounced from family to family and village to village as each family got tired of caring for the boy. The last family even accused him of doing evil, vile things. The woman gave birth to a new baby while Bart was there. The baby disappeared from the hut one night, and they found him dead in the forest. They blamed Bart for the child’s death. They would have hung him, but they had no proof that he did it, so instead, they banished him from the village. That was two years ago. Bart had only been eleven years old. He never even tried to stay with a family after that. He didn’t need them. He could make it on his own! Now, here he was again. In another town and surrounded by people. He figured he’d stay long enough to fill his belly, rest, and then move on. He didn’t trust people. He was better off on his own.

Bart looked up from his reverie and realized it had gotten dark, and Jonah was still talking. “I’m sorry, Jonah. I zoned out. I’m tired. Can you show me where Cecilia wants me to sleep?”

“Sure. Come on.” Jonah got up and led Bart to a room at the very back of the inn. “Right in here. The washroom is across the hall, and my room is right next to yours if you need anything. Goodnight, Bart. I’m glad we talked.” Jonah walked away and left Bart alone in the room.

CinderEli

Elijah finished cleaning the fireplace and went to wash up. He didn’t even get to the washbasin before he heard one of his stepbrothers yell for him.

“Eli, get back in here! You’re not done. This fireplace is a mess.” Robert yelled.

Elijah went back into the front room. “Robert, I’ve told you guys a million times, my name is Elijah, not Eli. And I cleaned that fireplace already. You jerks must have spread more ashes all over it.” Elijah yelped in pain and surprise as his other stepbrother hit him in the back of the head.

“You will not talk back to us, little brother. And your name is what we say it is. Look at you all covered in ash and soot. Your name isn’t Elijah or even Eli. Your name is CinderEli.” Edward said.

Elijah rubbed the back of his head and scowled at his stepbrothers. He didn’t bother saying anything else. He knew it was pointless. Their mother had his father wrapped around her little finger. Elijah felt like a servant and not even part of the family. He knelt and started cleaning the fireplace all over again. He nearly finished cleaning it for the second time when his stepmother rushed into the house.

“Boys! Edward! Robert! Come here at once!” She yelled. Elijah stopped what he was doing and turned around to see what was so important. His two stepbrothers returned to the room and said, almost in unison, “What is it, mother?”

“You’ve both been invited to a Royal Ball at the castle. A notice went up in the village requiring all boys of royal blood who are at least fifteen years of age to attend the Princess’s eighteenth birthday ball. It is tomorrow night. We’ll have to spend all day tomorrow getting you both ready. People say she’s looking for a suitor. She has to pick one of you!” Their mother said.

Elijah spoke up. “I’m fifteen. Will I be going to the Ball, too?”

All three laughed at him. His stepmother said, “Of course not, boy. Look at you. You’d be an embarrassment. Now be quiet and go back to your cleaning.”

Elijah was furious. He considered going to his father but knew that would do no good. He returned to work and tried to put the Ball out of his mind.

The next day, the house was a constant hive of activity. Rebecca ordered her two sons around, preparing them for the Ball that evening. Rebecca sent Elijah on numerous errands to pick up things his two stepbrothers needed. Each time she forced him to help, he got madder and madder.

The evening arrived, and Elijah watched as his father, stepmother, and two stepbrothers got in the carriage and left for the Ball. He finally allowed the tears of anger and sadness to fall from his eyes. Elijah left the house and headed straight for the clearing in the woods behind the house. At the far edge of the clearing, he found his mother’s grave. He dropped to his knees in front of her headstone and cried. “Mother, everything is horrible without you. Father has remarried, and she’s a mean and wicked lady. She has two sons, and I’m cast aside and treated as a servant. Papa won’t even help me. He does whatever she tells him to do.”

Through his tears, Elijah noticed a little blue light flickering back and forth over the headstone. It was a weird little light. It distracted him momentarily, but he continued with what he needed to tell his mother. “They are all at the Princess’s Birthday Ball, Mama. They made me stay home. I have more right to go than Robert or Edward! My whole life now is just cleaning up after them and putting up with them bullying me. I wish… well, I wish many things, but right now, I wish I could go to the Ball.”

His tears were flowing heavier now. When he first saw it, he thought it was his imagination, but the little blue light grew. Before Elijah’s astonished eyes, the blue light grew into a brightly dressed man with glowing blue wings. Elijah blinked, wiped the tears from his eyes, and looked again. The winged man was still there. “Uh… hi… who… what are you?” Elijah asked.

The man huffed. “I’m a who, not a what, Elijah. I’m your fairy godfather, and I’m here to grant your wish.”

A broad smile crossed Elijah’s face, but a suspicious frown quickly replaced it. “If you’re my fairy godfather, why wait until now? I’ve made a million wishes since my mom died. My stepbrothers have bullied and tormented me for months. Why haven’t you helped me before now?”

The fairy sighed and looked at Elijah. “I’m not allowed to guide every event in your life, but I’ve watched for a key moment to intervene. This is that key moment.” He waved his wand over Elijah.

Elijah looked down at himself and smiled at the fancy, crisply pressed black and white tuxedo. Then his suspicious frown returned when he noticed the “Hello. My name is Elijah” sticker under his left lapel. “Hey! What’s with the nametag?”

“You will be working with the caterers, serving drinks to the guests at the Ball. I’ve arranged it so they won’t notice that you aren’t their employee.” The fairy said.

Elijah’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. “Great. Some fairy godfather you are. You grant my wish to go to the Ball, but instead of sending me to dance with the Princess, you send me as a servant.”

“Elijah, you know as well as I do that a princess is not what you seek.” The fairy smiled and patted Elijah’s shoulder.

Elijah looked up at the fairy, eyes wide. Then he looked down and blushed. “That may be true, but why should I go to the ball?”

“Trust in me that I know what is best for you. It is my job, after all. More than princesses are at the Ball.” The fairy grinned.

Elijah looked up at him, the suspicion fading from his eyes. “Ok. I’m used to people looking at me as a servant anyway. I may as well be a servant at the Royal Ball, too.”

The fairy smiled. “Trust in me, Elijah. And leave the Ball before the last stroke of midnight. That’s when the enchantment will wear off.” The fairy waved his magic wand again, and Elijah disappeared.

Elijah blinked his eyes in surprise. One second, he stood in front of his mother’s grave, and the next, he was in the most massive kitchen he had ever seen. The kitchen was more extensive than his entire house! Before he had much of a chance to look around, an older man stormed up to him. The man glanced down at his nametag and then said, “You. Elijah, grab that tray of drinks and get out front. The guests are thirsty. You’re not here to gawk around at the kitchen like some dumb country farm boy. Move it!” Elijah picked up the drink tray and walked through the door and into the main ballroom.

After an hour of walking the floor handing out drinks, Elijah found himself at a stationary bar along the back wall. In between serving drinks, he watched as everyone else danced. He knew the fairy was right and didn’t want to marry a princess, but he still longed to dance at the Royal Ball.

He ducked down behind the bar every time he saw his stepbrothers. Not that they would notice him anyway. With his perfectly pressed black and white tuxedo and clean blonde hair combed back off his face, they’d never even recognize him. From off to his left, he heard someone clear their throat and a boy’s voice said, “Excuse me, Elijah, can I get a glass of ice water, please?”

Elijah turned and nearly dropped the glass he was holding. His breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat. The boy sitting at the bar smiling up at him was the most gorgeous boy that Elijah had ever seen. He had light brown hair, cut short in the back, but the bangs were long. He combed his hair to the right, and the bangs partially covered his right eye, and that was a shame because he had stunning bright blue eyes. They were a bright blue to make a cloudless summer sky jealous. Elijah set the glass he was holding down on the bar and tried to steady his nerves. “Sure thing, sir. One ice water coming up.” Elijah gave the boy a nervous smile and prepared the drink.

“Here you go, sir. Enjoy your water and enjoy the Ball.” Elijah said.

The boy shot Elijah a killer smile. The ruby-red lips and perfect dimples nearly left Elijah in a melted puddle on the floor. The boy leaned forward. “I’m only just now enjoying the Ball. It was boring me until I spotted you over here. You’re not one of the usual servants. I’d have noticed. My name is Will, by the way.” Will stuck his hand out to Elijah.

Elijah shook Will’s hand and blushed. “Pleased to meet you, Will. As you noticed from my nametag, I’m Elijah. And you’re right. This is my first time here at the Royal Castle.”

“Welcome to the castle. What do you think of it?” Will asked.

“I’ve only seen the kitchen and the ballroom, but it’s stunning,” Elijah replied.

“I’ll have to give you a private tour sometime,” Will said, winking at Elijah.

Elijah blushed a deep, bright red. “Are you the Royal Tour Guide, Will? If so, sign me up for that tour.” Elijah grinned.

Will reached over and took one of Elijah’s hands in his. “What’s with these gloves anyway? I want to feel your hand, not these stupid gloves.”

Elijah shrugged. “The Royal Family doesn’t want us, lowly servants, to touch the things that they serve to them and their guests. I was told to wear gloves all night.”

Will rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. Wait…” Will squinted, looking at Elijah with intense concentration. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Elijah scowled. “No. Should I?”

Will gently took Elijah’s face in his hands, leaned in, and kissed him. Elijah’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock, but he soon recovered and kissed the younger boy back. After several minutes, Will pulled back from the short make-out session, smiling broadly. “Sorry to be so forward, but I wanted to see if you wanted that before you found out who I am. I could probably have any boy in the kingdom, but I want one who wants me, not my title or family.” Will said, looking a little sad.

“Any boy in the kingdom?” Elijah scoffed. “Just who are you? The crown prince?”

Will sighed. “I am who I said I am. I’m Will. Most people insist on calling me William, though.”

Elijah looked confused, and then his jaw dropped. “No way. You ARE the crown prince?! Oh my god. No way! But… you’re here. Talking to me. You freaking kissed me! Why aren’t you up there with your parents and sister?”

“I was. Then I saw you. Now I’m here.” Will smirked.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Elijah blushed and looked down.

“Say you’ll take off those stupid gloves and dance with me,” Will said with a grin.

“I’m not allowed to take my gloves off by order of the Royal family, though.” Elijah laughed.

Will stood up straight and puffed out his chest. He spoke as profoundly as his fourteen-year-old vocal cords could muster. “I hereby order, by Royal Decree, that you, Elijah the Beautiful, must remove your gloves so I can feel your hand in mine.” Will burst out into a fit of giggles. “Just give me the damn gloves, cutie.”

Elijah blushed a deep red, but he smiled and took off the gloves. “Here you go, your Royal Highness.”

Will rolled his eyes and stuffed the gloves into his pocket. He took Elijah’s hand and led him out onto the dancefloor.

Elijah didn’t know how to dance, so he let Will guide his movements and soon caught on. An hour later, they were still out there, attracting more stares than any couple, except for the Princess and her chosen companion. The music slowed, and Will pulled Elijah close. Though a year younger, Will was about three inches taller than Elijah.

“You have the brightest and most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen. Brighter even than the emerald in my father’s treasury.” Will said, looking down at Elijah.

Elijah couldn’t seem to stop blushing around this boy. “Hey now, don’t even talk about pretty eyes with those beautiful baby blues of yours.” Elijah reached up and pushed the hair out of Will’s eyes. “And your hair is perfect, too.” He smiled.

“Listen, blondie, don’t get me started on perfect hair,” Will smirked.

Elijah couldn’t help but smile. “You’re gonna have like a million princesses come calling when it’s time for your Royal Ball. You’re as sweet as you are gorgeous. She’ll be a lucky girl, whoever you pick.”

Will pulled Elijah even closer and bent down close to his ear. “What makes you think I’ll pick a girl?”

Elijah looked up at him, confused. “Won’t your father make you? Royal heirs and all that?”

Will leaned in and kissed the side of Elijah’s neck. “You’re so cute but so thick-headed. We’ve been dancing in front of my parents for over an hour. They know I’ll never marry a girl. We’ve already talked about it. As the first-born son, I will be King. But I’ve already said that I will designate my sister’s children as the heirs to the throne. That’s why they’re so formal and careful with who she chooses to marry.”

Elijah’s eyes widened. “Over an hour? What time is it?”

“Time doesn’t matter when I’m with you. You fit perfectly within my arms, Elijah. I think I want to keep you around.” Will leaned in, about to kiss Elijah. Then, the clock struck the first stroke of midnight.

Elijah pulled back from Will’s embrace. “Will, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I really, really like you, but I need to go. Right now.”

Will’s face showed surprise and disappointment. “Elijah, if it’s the job, don’t worry. You’re with me. You’ll never be a servant in this castle again. Stay with me.”

Tears stung Elijah’s eyes. “It’s not that. I can’t explain right now. I need to go. I’m so sorry.” With that, Elijah turned and ran out of the castle as fast as he could.

Elijah’s sudden departure stunned Will. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but he was confident Elijah didn’t want to leave. He felt something was wrong and was determined to find out what. He took off at top speed after the other boy without even calling for his Royal Bodyguards.

Will couldn’t catch up to Elijah, but he kept him in sight as they passed out of the Royal Compound and into the town. Will lost count of the number of streets they passed and side streets they turned down. He nearly lost sight of Elijah but turned the last corner just in time to see him dart off the road and into a backyard. Will couldn’t find Elijah anywhere. He searched the nearby woods and other yards but couldn’t find him. Finally, Will gave up and headed home. He vowed inwardly to order the Palace Guards to perform a more thorough search of the town. He would see Elijah again if it was the last thing he did.

Elijah was even more depressed than usual. He had the absolute best night of his life last night and was now cleaning the fireplace again. He had to put Will out of his mind. He, of course, would never see the Crown Prince ever again. It was an incredible night, but that’s all it was, just one night. Just then, his stepbrothers interrupted his daydreams of Will.

“There’s a palace carriage stopping out front. Get out of here, little CinderEli. We can’t have your filth embarrassing us. Go clean the kitchen.” Robert said.

“Yeah,” Edward added. “No one wants to see dirty old CinderEli.” Both boys laughed as Elijah left the room in silence.

A loud knock on the door echoed through the house. Robert and Edward raced to the door and pulled it open. The palace guardsman looked them both up and down and asked, “Is the Lord or Mistress of the Manor at home?”

“Our stepfather is out of town on business. I’ll go get our mother at once, sir.” Edward responded, turned, and ran into the house. He returned not a minute later with his mother.

Edward stated to the guardsman. “Sir Guardsman, may I present Duchess Wainwright, Lady Rebecca.”

The guardsman entered the house, followed by a figure wrapped in a hooded cloak. The hood completely shadowed the second person’s face. The guardsman bowed to Lady Rebecca. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“How may we be of service to the Royal Guard?” Rebecca asked.

The guard took a small item from his pocket. “I have been sent out searching for a boy who left this glove behind at the Royal Ball last night. We are ordered to find the boy whose hand fits this glove.”

Robert and Edward elbowed each other to get up close to the guard. They looked expectantly back and forth between the guard and their mother. Rebecca nodded to them.

First, Robert and then Edward tried on the glove. Neither boy could even fit all their fingers into the glove. They growled in frustration and handed the glove back to the guard.

Rebecca looked sympathetically at the guard. “Sorry to waste your time. Good luck with your search.”

“Thank you, Lady Rebecca.” The guard started to turn away, but his cloaked companion grabbed his arm and whispered, “This is the manor I followed him to. Make sure there is no one else here. I have to find him!”

The guard turned back to Rebecca. “I’m sorry to bother you, my lady. Are there any other young boys in residence here? A servant? A distant relative? I have to check everyone.”

Rebecca frowned. “Well, my step-son Cin… Eli lives with us, but he did not go to the Ball. You can’t possibly be looking for him.” She scoffed.

The guard said. “Call him here at once. We’ll be on our way if the glove doesn’t fit.”

Rebecca turned and stormed off into the kitchen and returned moments later with a dirty, disheveled Elijah, covered from head to toe with cinders and soot. Elijah brushed himself off and started to walk towards the guard.

The cloaked figure stared intently at Elijah as he walked forward. Robert reached out and roughly grabbed Elijah’s arm. He asked the guard, “Are you sure you want this little soot-covered CinderEli to dirty the glove? There’s no chance that they belong to him.”

The cloaked figure leaped forward, the butt of his staff striking Robert squarely in the abdomen. Robert doubled over in pain. The cloaked figure grabbed him by the hair and bent close to Robert’s ear. “If you touch him again, you will lose the hand you touched him with.”

Edward jumped to his brother’s side. “The King will hear about this! Just who do you think you are?”

The cloaked figure reached up and lowered his hood. “Go ahead and tell my father what happened here today. While you’re at it, tell my mother that your mother ignored her order that ALL boys fifteen or over of royal blood attend the Ball.” He pointed at Elijah. “He is fifteen and the Duke’s blood heir. Yet she did not allow him to attend. Though I will say that it worked out for me that he got there independently without the need to dance with my sister.” Will smirked at Elijah as he took the glove from the guard and took the other one out of his own pocket. “Make it official. Put those stupid gloves back on. I know it’s you, though. The ash can’t hide those pretty green eyes.”

Rebecca inhaled sharply and bowed deeply to the Crown Prince. “Your Majesty, Prince William, I and my sons beg your forgiveness.” She glared at her sons, and they also bowed to the prince.

Hands shaking, Elijah put on the gloves. They fit perfectly. His stepmother and two stepbrothers were in shock.

Will smiled at Elijah. He reached up and brushed some of the soot and ash out of his hair. “Elijah, I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted you in my life. I don’t want you staying here with these cold-hearted bullies. Come live at the castle.”

Elijah took both of Will’s hands in his. “But what would my role be there? Servant? Friend? Why would your father allow it?”

Now, Will was the one who looked nervous, with unsteady hands. He got down on one knee in front of Elijah. “I know we just met last night. I know I’m just fourteen, and you’re fifteen. I know you have absolutely no reason to say yes. Still, I am hereby officially asking you to be my betrothed. We can get married after my eighteenth birthday. What do you say?”

“Oh, Will!” Elijah gushed. He pulled William to his feet and kissed him. “Oh, yes, Will, yes! A thousand times, yes!”

The boys kissed again. Will looked over at Rebecca. “Give anything belonging to Elijah to the guard. We’ll be leaving immediately. His father is welcome to come to the castle upon his return home. You and your sons would be best served to stay at home.” He slipped an arm around Elijah’s waist and guided him to the Royal Carriage.

The guardsman exited the manor with all of Elijah’s possessions. Then, the carriage rode off into the distance towards the castle and, more importantly, towards a bright new future for Elijah and William.

The Frog’s Prince

The Frog’s Prince

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a boy named Jonah. Jonah sat in the shadow of the old oak tree and chuckled quietly. He watched the parade of prancing princesses proceed to the pond, kiss the poor frog, and then storm angrily away when nothing happened. He chuckled because he knew his best friend in the entire world, Lucas, was having yet another dreadful day. He watched until all the princesses were gone, and the frog sat alone by the pond’s edge. Jonah left his hiding spot, walked to the pond, and sat facing the poor little frog.

“No luck again today, I see, Lucas. Just how many princesses are there in the world anyway?” Jonah grinned down at the frog.

“Ribbit.” Said the frog. The frog made a face as close to annoyance as a frog’s face can get.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Jonah said, reaching down and touching the frog’s head.

“UGH! Thanks. That’s much better. I still can’t figure out why that only works for you. I can’t even talk to my father or brother. As far as the princesses go, there seems to be an unending supply! I wish one would finally break this spell. I’m sick of being a frog!” The frog darted its head to the side, flicked out its tongue, and caught and ate a fly.

“That’s so gross!” Jonah pretended to gag but ended up laughing.

“I know, right! But I can’t help it. It seems to be instinct for this body. This curse really sucks!” Lucas groaned.

“Why were you cursed, Luke? We’ve never talked about that. Obviously, I know you are the prince of this kingdom. Is that why she cursed you?” Jonah asked.

“Get me out of this pond for a while. Let’s go for a walk, and I’ll tell you.” Lucas said. Jonah reached over and picked up his friend. He set the frog on his left shoulder, stood, and walked onto the path into the woods.

Lucas began his story. “Even as a small child, I was a spoiled rotten brat. My dad always told me I was meant to lead our glorious kingdom, but all I wanted to do was play and have fun. Book learning and army training were boring. I avoided my duties as often as I could. Then I turned thirteen, and my mind switched from my toys to girls. Honestly, I didn’t treat the girls any better than my toys. They were princesses who were sent to woo me and win the heart of the crown prince of Lerithia, and I played silly games with their hearts, kissed them once or twice, and sent them on their way.” Lucas blushed as much as a frog can be said to blush.

“That just doesn’t sound like the Lucas that I know.” Jonah turned his head, so he was looking at Lucas. “You’ve changed so much. Cut yourself some slack. Hell, maybe being a frog has been good for you.” Jonah snickered.

“Anyway.” Lucas rolled his little froggy eyes at Jonah. “To continue my story, I was mean to many people, especially girls. One night at dinner, this old lady burst into our dining hall and pointed at me. She shouted at me about how I broke her granddaughter’s heart.” Lucas sighed. “Jonah, I couldn’t even remember what her granddaughter looked like. She drew a wand out of her cloak and pointed it at me. My father’s guards reacted, but not in time. The wand glowed, and she said, ‘Shallow Prince with much vanity, like a frog you’ll now be. No cure for you shall they find until True Love’s Kiss clears your mind. If no love finds you before eighteen, you’ll end your days with skin of green.’” Lucas sighed again. “I’m doomed, Jonah. Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday!”

Jonah gasped and sat down on the side of the trail on an old tree stump. “Oh my god, Luke. Why didn’t you say something before? Tomorrow? Is that why your dad has been bringing in even more princesses than usual the last few weeks?”

“Yeah. My dad thinks if enough girls kiss me, one will be the right one. The trouble is, I can’t even talk to any of them like I can talk with you. How can I know if it’s true love? Do I want some silly spell to decide my future even if the curse is broken?” Lucas sounded depressed, even in his froggy voice.

Jonah wanted to reach out and comfort him so badly, but how do you hug a frog? “What kind of girl would you want it to be if you could choose?” Jonah thought he could get Lucas talking and get his mind off tomorrow.

“Someone kind and caring and compassionate. Someone who listens to me and doesn’t just want to talk about herself and her clothes. Someone… well, someone just like you, Jonah. Why can’t you be a beautiful princess?” Lucas laughed.

Now, it was Jonah’s turn to blush. “Shut up, Luke. I’m trying to help figure this out for you.” Jonah got back up and started walking back towards the pond. Suddenly, the King’s Guards burst through the trees. One scooped Lucas off Jonah’s shoulder, and two more grabbed Jonah by the arms. The one in charge said, “Aha! We’ve found you! How dare you kidnap Prince Lucas. To the dungeon with you!”

Lucas was yelling at the top of his lungs for them to unhand his friend, but all they heard was the ribbiting of a frog. Jonah proclaimed his innocence, but they wouldn’t listen and dragged him to the castle dungeons. Jonah was yelling, “You don’t understand! He’s my friend! You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t even know who I am!” The guards refused to talk to him and locked him in the dungeon.

That night and the next day passed slowly for both Lucas and Jonah. Jonah couldn’t find a way out of the dungeon. No one even came to talk to him. He was concerned and scared for his friend. He wanted to be with him, especially since it was such an important day for Lucas.

Lucas was also worried about Jonah and blamed himself for his friend getting locked in the dungeon, possibly forever. If he couldn’t break this curse and talk to his father, there would be no way to convince his dad to free Jonah. So, hoping to break the curse, Lucas stayed in his pond instead of running off to be with Jonah and submitted himself to today’s parade of princesses.

Night fell without the curse breaking. The princesses were gone, and the guards were out of sight. Lucas decided that, since he didn’t know if he’d still be able to talk to Jonah after the curse became permanent, he wanted to spend his last few hours before midnight with his best friend. He hopped out of his pond and headed for the tree line. Once in the trees, he leaped towards the castle as fast as he could. Lucas knew precisely where his dad would have locked up Jonah, and Lucas knew how he could get to him. He snuck in, undetected, through the back kitchen doors when the cooks were bringing the night’s trash out. He stayed hidden amongst the pots, pans, and brooms and finally found his chance to sneak into the cellar when a cook opened the door. From the basement, he made his way to the dungeons. He hopped right into Jonah’s cell. Jonah curled tightly into a ball and, crying, didn’t see Lucas at first. Lucas hopped over to him. “I’m here, Jonah, I’m here.”

Jonah looked up, saw Lucas was still a frog, and started crying even harder. Through his tears, he said, “No luck with the princesses again? I’m so sorry, Luke. I’m just so sorry. If that witch could see you now, maybe she’d undo the spell herself. You’re not a spoiled, arrogant brat anymore. You’re the kindest, sweetest guy I’ve ever met.”

Lucas blushed. “Thanks, Jonah. You’re a pretty great guy yourself.”

“Luke, it’s almost midnight. What’s going to happen? Will I still hear you like now?” Jonah asked.

“I don’t know. I hope so, but I don’t know. I’ve never understood why you’re the only one who hears me anyway.” Lucas said.

Jonah reached down and picked up Lucas. He stared directly into the frog’s eyes. “If this is our last conversation, I have to say this aloud for you to hear. I love you so much, Luke. More than you know. You’re my best friend in the entire world. I… If you were a boy and not a frog, I might love you even more than that.” Jonah blushed a deep, bright red. “You have an amazing soul, Lucas. I’ll love you forever.” He bent down and kissed the frog.

Electricity crackled around the boy and the frog, and purplish-colored smoke swirled around them. When the smoke cleared, Jonah was looking up into the bright, crystal blue human eyes of Prince Lucas. Lucas brought both hands up and cupped Jonah’s face between his hands. He bent down and kissed him. After he broke the kiss, Lucas smiled and said, “I love you, too, Jonah.”

——————————————————————————————————————————–

King Samuel’s night of worry over his son Lucas’s predicament was interrupted by news that a small army, led by the neighboring king, had entered his lands. King Samuel led a small force out to greet the other king. King Edmond rode out from his army and greeted King Samuel when the two armies met.

“My guards last saw my son, Prince Jonah, enter your kingdom, Samuel. He has not returned home. I’ve come looking for him. Have you or any of your people seen him?” Edmond described Jonah to Samuel. One of the King’s Guards spoke up and told his King what had happened at the pond and that he thought Jonah might be that boy. Samuel relayed that information to Edmond with his apologies, and they rode together to the castle.

The two kings walked into the dungeon, turned the corner, and saw the two boys curled up together, sound asleep in each other’s arms. Both kings were momentarily speechless, and then Samuel yelled, “Lucas! You’ve broken the spell! What happened? Why are you in the dungeon? Guards, unlock this cell at once!”

The boys, shocked by the sudden intrusion, untangled from each other’s embrace and stood up. Jonah noticed his father standing behind the other king. Lucas spoke first. “Dad!” He ran and hugged his father when the guards opened the cell door. “I hopped in here when I was still a frog. I wanted to spend my last few hours with Jonah. Then, just before midnight, he kissed me and broke the spell!”

Both kings audibly gasped and turned and looked at each other. Samuel looked back at his son. “The spell said only True Love’s Kiss could break the enchantment. Is Jonah your True Love?”

Lucas blushed and looked down. “Yes, Dad. I’m in love with Jonah, and he’s in love with me. We want to be married. You always told me that whoever broke the enchantment was the one I would marry. I couldn’t talk to you, but I heard everything you said. I want you to keep your word. I want to marry Jonah.” Lucas told his father that Jonah could hear him for the last year, and they talked for hours every evening after the princesses left. He told his father everything.

“Jonah? Son, is this what you want also?” King Edmond asked, stepping forward.

Samuel stepped aside to let Edmond to the front. Samuel spoke to Lucas, “Son, this is King Edmond from Garlandia, Prince Jonah’s father.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped, and he turned to Jonah. “Prince Jonah? You never told me!”

“It wasn’t and still isn’t the most important thing about me. I love you, not your kingdom, and I wanted the same in return. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want it to get in the way of our friendship.” Jonah said.

“It’s fine, Jonah, I definitely understand,” Lucas said.

Jonah turned towards his father. “Dad, to answer your question. Yes. This is what I want. I know I’m just sixteen. I know you planned on me marrying some princess and having lots of babies, but I’ve never wanted those things. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m in love with Luke. Like head over heels in love. The type of love I see between you and Mom. Please let me have this.” Jonah was looking at his father, but his hands gripped Lucas’s arm, and he leaned into the taller boy.

The two kings looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement. Samuel spoke. “I’ll put the proclamation out to the other kingdoms. The marriage of our sons, the crown princes of Lerithia and Garlandia, will take place one month from today. May fortune smile on you both and upon both our kingdoms.”

With both of their fathers and a dozen guards watching, Lucas pressed his forehead against Jonah’s and whispered: “I love you.” Jonah leaned in, and they kissed.