Hello, Invisible Subjects.  Queen Bitty here.

As many of you know, the Midsummer’s Night Dream Ball is tomorrow.  The Pond will be resplendent in magical finery, with twinkle lights glimmering in the trees, colorful glass lanterns spinning in starlight and all sorts of fairies and magical folks causing mischeif!

We’ll have Irish dancing, critters from all over and of all species and color and of course, our special Pond Ambassador.

Excited?  You should be.

I would expect nothing else.

While you’re breathless in anticipation, read the Gift.

Yes, now.

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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“What do you mean he’s dead?” Ashley stared at Elisa, certain the ghost had lost her mind.  “He’s right there!”

“I’m not dead,” the Prince scowled, his eyebrows knitting together.  He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin.  “I’m just different.”

“Different?” Cleo echoed.  “I thought you said Jeremy was dead.  How are you dead if Jeremy is dead?”

“Jeremy is dead.  I’m not dead.  You see, we were fighting with swords…my sword went into him, his sword stabbed me…”  The Prince shrugged.  “It happens.”

“I’m confused,” Cleo replied, scratching her head.

“That’s easy to do,” Brogan muttered under his breath.

Cleo glared at him.  “You’re lucky I don’t have anymore jewelry,” she growled.

“Ok, everyone shut up,” Ashley commanded.  Creeping closer to the Prince, she peered at his face.  “You don’t look dead.”

“I’m not dead,” the Prince cried in exasperation.

Elisa snorted.  “Technically.”

“It’s true.”  Aine squeaked from her hiding spot in Ashley’s purse.  “I promise.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes as he tried to peer in the bag.  “Hey, aren’t you the fairy who…”

Ashley clamped the bag shut and shifted it behind her bag.  “I want to know now: are you dead or alive?”

The Prince huffed.  “I was dead.  But because of my magical abilities, I’m now not dead.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Cleo rubbed her head.

Elisa rolled her transparent eyes.  “The Prince’s father saw to it long ago that all his children were blessed by a wizard.  Each child can never die.  Their physical bodies can be killed, but their spirit, or very essence, will live on forever in the same dream world the Prince walks in at night.  So while the Prince can talk to us and visit us, he can not be harmed.  He can also not eat, drink or touch another human.”

The Prince sulked.  “It’s only temporary.  I’m sure there’s a spell to fix me.”  He turned his attention to Elisa.  “You know, you’re really annoying me.  I’m not quite sure why I ever tried to marry you.”

“Because you’re a mite touched in the head,” Elisa drawled in her thick Irish accent.  Brogan snorted, hiding his smile.

“Ok, Dead Prince Arnan, I’ll make you a deal,” Ashley announced, ignoring the Prince’s annoyed expression.  “You set your brides free, and we’ll leave peacefully.”

The Prince shook his head.  “How about I imprison you all and kill Brogan for treason, and the brides stay here?”

Ashley clamped her hands on her hips.  “Not good enough.  I’m not leaving here until these brides are free.”

Chortling, the Prince threw his head back.  “The brides live in the world of dreams.  Unless you, magicless mortal, plan on killing yourself or becoming my bride, you can not hope to speak to them.”

Ashley glanced at Brogan.  He nodded.  “The Prince is correct.”

“I’m always correct,” the Prince preened.  The sliver glow around him brightened as he smiled.  “Shall I call my guards, or can you find your own way to the prison?”

“There’s another way.”

Every head turned.  Aine’s muffled voice was shouting inside the purse she wore on her back.  Turning the back around, Ashley popped the bag open.  Aine’s head carefully rose through the opening, her eyes darting about.  Her gaze landed on the Prince and she smirked.

“Highness, you forgot something very important,” she murmured.  “In dreams, one can write their own ending.”

“You’re not making any sense.”  The Prince raised an eyebrow.

“In dreams, elephants fly and polar bears have ski resorts.  The desert is under an ocean and mountains are topped by a tiny field with flowers that never dies.”  Aine dug around in the purse, yelling absentmindly over her shoulder.

“I’m still not getting you,” the Prince growled, his face squenched up in a very unregal manner.

Beaming, Aine eyed Elisa.  “It’s time for you to wake up.”  With a flourish, she lobbed a gold and scarlet ring at Elisa.  Ashley’s eyes widened.

“That’s Rouge’s ring!” she hissed.  “His family ring!”

Elisa’s ghostly hand rose and the ring slid on her transparent finger.  Slowly, like the curling tendrils of a steeping tea bag in water, color flooded her skin and face.  Her lifeless eyes beamed bright green, her skin glowed and her cheeks bloomed with rosy color.

She looked at the Prince and smiled.

He screamed.

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A scream far away jolted Samantha and Rouge from their locked gaze.

“What was that?” Samantha asked, fear tightening her throat.

Rouge shook his head.  “I don’t know.”

Pressing a hand to his chest, Samantha’s eyes danced wildly.  “Rouge, what if that was Ashley?  Or Cleo?  We’ve got to rescue them.  We can’t leave them in that castle.  What if he tries to marry them too?”

Rouge coughed, his face a mask of horror.  “Give me a minute.  I’ve got to figure out a way to get back there.”

Another scream sounded in the distance.  Samantha grabbed his fingers.  “Hurry.”

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Humming happily to himself, the troll hurried through the castle.  He would take the shortcut home, he thought to himself.  He’d cut across the back, scurry over the alter and through the trees, over to the fine house he’d built under the biggest bridge.  After all, it wasn’t many trolls that worked in the castle, he thought proudly.  He couldn’t wait to show his wife his prize, the Prince’s ring.  She’d be so excited.  Many she’d even make Toad in a Rotten Stump for dinner…if he was lucky, she’d throw some chocolate cake in to.  Normally, he only got that delicious combination on his birthday.

Rushing down the stairs, the troll waddled onto the grass and hobbled a crooked line across the hill.  He held the ring up in the early starlight and smacked his lips.  Yes, he’d fetch a good price for this ring.  Enough to buy a magic spellbook or that furniture his wife was always whining about…put his child through bridge school…Dreaming of the possibilities, the troll grunted as he lurched forward.  Something cold and hard had smacked against his toe.

Leaning down, he peered at the shapeless lump.  Even in the pale light of the evening sky, he could see it was Jeremy.  The Prince’s sword gleamed from the center of his chest.  The troll pushed his lower lip out.

“Ain’t that a shame,” he murmured.  “Nice fellow, he was.  Appreciated a good meal.”  He started to stand, then hesitated.  Looking around, he pursed his lips.  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt…” he murmured under his breath.  “And with our new station in life, it’d be good to have an apprentice around…”  How proud his wife would be–the Prince’s ring and an apprentice!  He’d be management material, just like her dreadful father never said he would be.   Frowning at the thought of his father-in-law’s green sulking face, he made up his mind.

Stepping back, the troll sucked back every drop of spit clinging to his yellowed oversized teeth and floppy purple tongue.  Slurping down a great deal of green snot, he took a deep breath and spit the nasty glob square on Jeremy’s chest.  He yanked out the sword, using the tip to spread the green and yellow mixture over the bloody hole.  With a faint squeaking sound, the hole closed up and the blood faded away.

Groaning, Jeremy’s eyes flew open.

“Hello, apprentice,” the troll beamed.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have the Midsummers Night Dream Ball!  Then Wednesday, a new Coconut Queen and Thursday, a tasty recipe!  Friday we’ve got a new Twirl and Saturday, a new Creative Woman of the Pond!  Stay tuned!