13,300 Words

Getting sleepy again in my cozy shed — up for a bit of movement. It’s relatively warm out today, and I cleared the vegetable garden (finally) of tomato cages and withered vines at my last writing break. I might get a few more bits of Christmas decor up now. I’ve added a goose to my story, and I think it will serve nicely for contributing to the chaos…


A servant burst into the room most officiously, right between the soup (a delicate fennel consommé) and salad course.

Lord Branok half-rose from his chair. “Sarah? Is something the matter?”

“Oh, my lord! It’s the goose!”

He frowned. “What has happened to the goose?”

“It’s been stolen, my lord! Disappeared right from the yard, just as Old Timothy was about to slit its throat. And he’s the one what took it!” She pointed to the Candle, who shoved his chair back from the table, looking outraged.

“Hey, that’s not okay,” John said. “Do I look like the kind of man who would steal a goose?”


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