Hello, Invisible Friends.  I’m the Blond Duck’s lunchbox.

Stop laughing.

The Blond Duck really does take me to work.  Oh yes.  Every day she trots into the Invisible Newspaper, carrying me along with a jar of barbecue sauce to devour whatever she’s stuffed me with.  Do you know how embarrassing it is?  Sigh.

Anyway, I have a confession.

Lunchboxes can have confessions, I assure you.  And I’ve got a big one.

But I won’t tell you.  Yet.

You have to wait for Saturday’s Critter Confessions for that.

In the meantime, read the Gift.

You’ll like it!

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 is it you want, exactly?” Samantha asked warily, eying the green hand from the creature under the stump.

“It’s quite simple,” Mel purred from underneath the stump, his green fingers twisting in the air.  “In exchange for ferrying your friends out of the castle, I just want a tiny favor in return.”

“What?” Rouge groaned, clamping his hands around his forehead.  He raised his eyes to the star-studded sky.  “Does every enchanted creature here want something?”

Mel ignored him.  “I want you to make a sign for my stump,” he announced.

“A sign for your stump?”  Samantha repeated, her forehead creased in confusion.  “What kind of sign?”

“A big wooden one,” the voice under the stump cried, the green hand waving wildly.  “I want it to exclaim, in golden letters, “Mel, Stump Gnome Extraordinaire.”

“Stump Gnome Extraordinaire?” Rouge repeated, his lips twitching.

“Why do you want a sign?” Samantha asked, turning so the creature wouldn’t see her dimpled cheeks.

“Because no one knows I’m here!” Mel bellowed, his voice cracking with anguish.  “Do you know what it’s like to be ignored?”

“Why don’t you just sit on top of the stump?” Rouge suggested, “Instead of living underneath it?”

“I can’t.”  The stump sighed, quivering slightly.

“Why can’t you?” Samantha asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Because,” Mel grumbled, “I had a hermit stage in my younger years and refused to come out and see anyone.  Well, when you live underground for that long, your eyes change and in my case, I actually grew into the stump.   So I physically can’t leave.  And I’m doomed to live unnoticed forever! “  The stump shuddered again, the green hand flopping dramatically on the ground.

Samantha and Rouge looked at each other and shrugged.  “We agree,” Rouge informed the stump, taking Samantha’s hand.  “Will you bring our friends back now?”

“Of course,” Mel purred.  “Excuse me.”  The green hand slipped back into the ground.  For a moment, all Samantha and Rouge heard was their own breathing.  And then the ground began to quake….

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Jeremy watched in horror as the brides descended upon the screaming Prince. He flattened himself against the wall, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrendous scene.  One by one, the ghost brides clawed at the Prince with their bony hands, their grey dresses sliding over feet.  They grabbed his arms, leaned against his shoulder and back, even wrapping around his legs.  The Prince stared at Jeremy, his mouth open in a silent scream.  His hand reached toward him, pleading.  Jeremy turned his head, unable to meet the Prince’s eyes.  Frozen in terror, all he could do was watch.

And all along, the terrible bells of the dead continued to ring overhead.  Just the sound was enough to strike fear into Jeremy’s heart, making his entire body go numb.

“Come, husband,” the brides cooed in one voice.  “You promised us, husband.  You promised us our dreams.”  The Prince disappeared in a mass of thin arms and grey dresses as the brides repeated, “You promised us, husband.  You promised us.”

“No!”  The Prince’s tiny voice cried, desperately seeking to be heard over his bride’s demands.  “Help me!  Help me!  For God’s sake, someone help me!”

“We will help you,” the brides sang, their eyes glowing like white orbs.  “We will help you, husband.”

Clasping hands, the brides circled around the translucent Prince.  His eyes were but grey shadows, his frail body an outline.  Every ounce of swagger, of energy, had gone.  He couldn’t even whisper to protest as the brides clasped his hands, surrounding him in an army of vengeance.  He gave Jeremy one last mournful look, and then crumpled into himself.

The bells grew louder.

“Under a moonlit night,” the brides sang.

“Just before the morning dawn,

The dead lovers will retire,

the last song will be sung.

There was one final dance,

One final touch,

For now we exist,

Only in dreams of love.

Running through nightmares,

Tumbling through dreams,

In the world of sleep,

Nothing is what it seems.

The heartbroken will smile,

The damned will be free.

One last kiss,

One last word,

until death do them part,

and eternity do them not.”

The final bell rang, the note lingering in the air.  As the sound faded, so did the brides and Prince.  They floated away as though they were nothing more than fog, the morning light breaking through the former shadows of their bodies.

Jeremy cried out.  The room was empty.  There was nothing there–not a heel, a pearl or an eyelash.  The brides and their bounty were gone.

The closet door burst open.  Brogan stuck his head out.  “All clear?” he asked, glancing around.

Jeremy nodded mutely.  Holding open the door, Brogan helped Ashley and Cleo out of the closet.  The troll popped his head in from the hallway and grinned happily.

“Very good, apprentice!” he cried, clapping Jeremy on the back.  “You got rid of those ghastly brides!”

“Where’s the Prince?” Ashley asked, eyeing the empty room in surprise.

“With them,” Aine replied, popping her head out of the purse tied around Ashley’s torso.

“Man, I wanted to see that,” Cleo pouted, raising the protection charm off the door handle and sliding it back around her neck.  “Why couldn’t we have watched?”

Aine stared at her.  “The bells of the dead were ringing.”

Cleo cocked her head.  “I don’t understand.”

Aine sighed.  “When the bells of the dead ring, only the dead, the undead or those in the world of dreams can be out,” she explained.  “If you were to have watched, you would have been taken into the dream world along with the Prince.” She looked at Jeremy.  “He just faded away, correct?  Like someone was dumping water on a painting?”

Jeremy nodded, unable to speak.  The images were still too fresh, too horrible.

“Where’s Elisa?” Ashley asked, glancing around.  “Where did she go?”  She leaned down, raising a golden ring.  “This is Rouge’s family ring!”

Jeremy cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak.  “She said she was going home and to thank you.”

“She didn’t go with the dead brides, right?” Ashley asked suspiciously.

Jeremy shook his head and pointed to the sky.  “She went that way.”

The group was silent for a moment.  Finally, Ashley asked, “So, not that I want to be rude, but how do we get out of here?”

The group looked at Aine, who shrugged.  “I’m drained,” she said, waving her pale hands.  “I can’t do anything for at least three days.  It’s a consequence of the bells of the dead ringing.”

Ashley glanced at Brogan, who shook his head.  “I’m afraid I’m not only a traitor, but a murderer,” he replied.  “If you walked out with me, you’d be killed instantly.  And it will take days, nay weeks to return to your own world.”

“And Jeremy is to serve as my apprentice for 100 days,” the troll boasted, clapping Jeremy on the shoulder.  “He can’t return to his own world–if he could return to his own world in his state–until then.”

The girls looked glumly at each other.  Suddenly, the ground quivered as a deep roar that vibrated in Ashley’s ribs tore through the air.

“What’s that?” Cleo whispered, grabbing the charm around her neck.

“That would be the king,” Brogan replied calmly.  “The Elf King.  The Fin Breha.  Of this world and the next.”

“What’s the matter with him?” Jeremy squeaked, hiding behind the troll.

Aine rolled her eyes.  “He found out his son was dead, idiot!” she yelled.  “And now he’s going to raise the Underworld to deal with us!”

Ashley gulped.  “We’ve got to get out of here!” she cried.

“How?” Cleo shouted as another roar tore through the air, lurching forward as the ground quaked.  “How do we get out?”

A green fist shot though the carpet and between Cleo’s feet.  “Perhaps I can be of service.”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a delightful collection of summer favorites from the critters in the Pond, and Wednesday a new Coconut Queen.  Thursday we have a delicious new recipe and Friday, a new Twirl!  And of course, our lunchbox confessions Saturday.  Stay tuned!

*** I know some of my Invisible Friends are having trouble reading past Saturday.  I don’t know what the problem is, but I’m trying to find out!