Hi.  I’m Booger the Lobster.

And I have a proposition for you.

In exchange for reading Friday’s Twirl,

And Saturday’s Glitter Chick Confessions,

And today’s Gift below,

I’ll give you a piece of pie.  A piece of this homebaked, tasty pecan pie.

Agreed?  Wonderful.

We’ll be here.  Waiting.  Impatiently.

For those who don’t know, the Gift is the story of Samantha, a grad student who discovered a strange gift while staying with her friends at her parent’s vacation cabin over winter break.  After traveling to her old friend’s bar to try to determine the origin of the strange necklace she received, she suddenly found herself in the enchanted forests of Ireland being pursued by a secret admirer.

Now, an Elf Prince has decided to make her his bride–whether she wants to or not.  As she struggles to escape, her childhood love Rouge and friends must fight to rescue her…as soon as they get out of the dungeon.  And the wedding is at sunset…

Can her friends and loser boyfriend Jeremy save her before she gets trapped in a real-life fairy tale?  Read on…

To read previous issues of The Gift, look under the Never Ending Stories Tab…

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This wasn’t a dream.  It was a nightmare.

She was standing at the bottom of the hill in the center of a stone platform.  Rouge was on her left, his face shattered with grief.  The strange girl, the relative of Rouge’s, was on the right, shouting at her and tugging at her arm.  The prince clutched at her hands, the thin silver chain wrapped around her wrists so tightly it burned into her flesh.  A tall elf in flowing green robes stood before them, holding wreaths woven from leaves and glittering with tiny golden jewels.

“Dearly Beloved…” he began.  “Creatures and fairies of all…”

No.  No.  This couldn’t be happening.  She looked in horror at the heavy engagement ring on her left hand, left finger; the pale silver dress with a train that stretched for nearly a mile behind her.  Even without a mirror, she could tell her hair had been pinned in cascades of loose ringlets.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate this magical union of Prince Arnan and Samantha…”

He’s going to marry me…she thought, rearing back in revulsion.  Her eyes flicked to Rouge’s.  Help, she called, though her lips wouldn’t open.  Help me.

“…to join in holy matrimony, the most sacred of bonds of husband and wife…”

His eyes were as helpless as hers.  She turned to the girl whose words sounded like jibberish, as though she was standing from far away shouting over traffic in a rainstorm.  Help me, she begged.  Help me.

The girl pointed to the ring, gestured yanking it off.

“Does anyone have an objection to these two being wed?  Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Screaming with desperation, Samantha jerked the ring off her hand so violently her finger popped.  It clattered across the stones, rolling toward the Prince’s shoes.  Instantly, her head cleared and energy flowed through her.

“Run!” the girl next to her screamed.  “Run!”

The nightmare had gone from bad to worse.

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Ashley forced back tears as she helped Sibean lace Samantha into the silver wedding gown.  Samantha’s fail frame had been loaded down with heavy silks, a velvet wedding cloak (even though the weather was too mild for such heavy fabric), a sheer veil that shimmered like starlight and a silver tiara nestled on top of a crown of cascading curls.  Ashley ducked into the closet under the pretense of finding Samantha’s wedding shoes, leaving Sibean and her elven servants to Samantha.  She grabbed Cleo’s wrist and jerked her into the closet with her.

“What are we going to do?” Ashley hissed.  “This is moving much faster than I thought.”

“I don’t know what we can do,” Cleo whispered, her voice on the edge of hysteria.  “Ashley, we can’t let her become–become one of them!”  She flung her arms out to the room where the Prince’s former brides sat.  “This is terrible.  Just terrible.  I wish she’d never opened that stupid box.”

“You two need to calm down,” Aine hissed from Ashley’s handbag.  “Stop squawking and listen to me.”  A tiny fist emerged from the purse, waving the charm Rouge’s grandmother had given them. “Cleo, put this on.”

Cleo obeyed, sliding the thin necklace around her neck.  “What does it do?”

“It protects you from magic of ill intent,” Aine huffed.  “What did you think it did?  Now, our only hope is to find Rouge and Jeremy and map out some kind of escape plan.  Cleo, you stay with Samantha.  We’ll find you down at the alter.”

The door jerked open and Sibean stood framed in the doorway, the light spilling over her fair features.  “Don’t sit in here gossiping.  Did you find the shoes?”

“Right here.”  Ashley bent and grabbed them, passing the shoes over to Sibean.

“Very good.”  Sibean pointed to two white dresses hanging in the closet.  “Get dressed.”

“Excuse me?”  Ashley carefully slid her handbag holding Aine behind her.

“Get dressed,” Sibean repeated.  “The Prince has decided you two are the bridesmaids.”  Her lip raised in a sneer as her eyes skimmed over Ashley’s stolen servant attire.  “Though I can’t imagine why.”  She whirled around on her heel, shutting the door behind her.

The girls sat in stunned silence, staring at each other.  Aine was the first to speak.

“This is not good.”

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“I wouldn’t be your groomsmen if you paid me,” Rouge snarled.

“Well, I’m not paying you,” the Prince replied mildly.  He fiddled with his silver velvet cuffs, his face carved into an expression of boredom.   “I’m commanding you.”  He pointed to a servant scurrying in with two outfits draped over his arm.  “Get dressed.  We must go mingle with the guests.”  Tossing his thick velvet cloak behind him, he marched out of the dungeon.

The servant tried to hand an outfit to Rouge, but he crossed his arms and refused to take it.  “There is no way in hell I’m wearing that.  I’m not standing by while that–that thing marries Samantha.  I’d rather die.”

“That could be arranged,” the troll drawled, reappearing with a small purple bottle. “Your dreaming dust.  As requested.”  He handed the bottle to Rouge.

“Dude!” Jeremy hissed, stepping closer to Rouge.  “Shut up and put on the outfit!”

“I’m not going to sit there and help Samantha marry that jerk!” Rouge roared.  “I’m going to kill him.  That’s the only way.”

“Just make sure I get my ring first,” the troll reminded him, pointing to the bottle.  “I held up my end of the bargain.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Rouge assured him.  “I promised.”

“So what, you’re just going to march down there, rip his ring off and dump that dust all over Samantha?” Jeremy demanded.

Rouge nodded.  “Basically.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jeremy informed him.

“Look who’s talking!” Rouge snarled, grabbing him by the shirt.  “All you’ve done is complain about being here and brag about what a fabulous boyfriend you are!  If you were so fabulous, why did she go looking for the Prince?”

“It’s a good point,” the troll admitted to nobody in particular, gnawing on a frog leg.

“That’s not the point!” Jeremy shouted, shoving Rouge back.  “The point is you’re crazy about her.  So get your head out of your butt and think.  If you put on that goofy costume and stand as a groomsmen, you can save her a lot easier than if you try some crazy stunt.  Haven’t you ever watched a spy movie?  They don’t let their emotions get control of them, even when the guy’s got a knife to the girl’s throat.  The more you pretend you don’t like Samantha, the more the Prince will let his guard down and the easier it’ll be to rescue her.”

“You all like Samantha?” the troll repeated, incredulous.  He popped the bone of the leg in his mouth and swallowed.  “This girl’s got to smell like rotting sewage or something.”

Rouge lowered his head, taking a deep breath.  He released Jeremy’s shirt, stepping back.  “You’re right.”  Reaching for the outfit from the cowed servant, his face spread in a grim smile.  “Let’s go to a wedding.”

To be continued….

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we’ve got a tribute from Queen Bitty and Wednesday, a new Coconut Queen!  Then Thursday we’ve got a tasty new recipe and Friday, a new Twirl!  Stay tuned!