The Seam Sorceress

Peter's Second Wife, part 1.

Tilly practically shoved the money at him. "Tell me what I need to do to win that mirror."

"Not one for small talk, is she?" he laughed, picking through the handful of coins. "Well, for this much, honey, I'll give you the same deal I gave your sister: Three swings."

"Don't sound like much of a 'deal,'" Tilly muttered, eyeing the painted sign behind him that said much the same.

Some of the joviality drained from the carny's face. "Each time, you can either choose to keep your prize or you can move up a shelf level. But if you don't get a high enough score, you lose it all."

"Sure, but I ain't interested in anything 'cept that mirror," Tilly said.

He nodded. "Fine. Let me show you how it's done."

Before she could stop him, the carny picked up an old worn mallet propped up against a stool. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped up to the plate, made a show of testing the hammer's weight, then lined up a shot. With a single, effortless blow, the weight traveled all the way up the meter and rang the bell, illuminating a sign that read ɢɪᴀɴᴛ.

"Nothing to it," he said, handing the mallet over to Tilly.

She took it. To its credit, the mallet felt to be made of solid wood, not much heavier than the axe she used to chop firewood back home. It swooped through the air easily. Tilly nodded. "Nothing to it."

The carny took a seat as she stepped up to the plate, patting the side of the meter. "Try not to show me up too badly, huh, girly?"

"I'll do my best." Taking a deep breath, Tilly wound back and struck the pressure plate.

To her surprise, the bell limped its way up the scale, just making it past ᴛʜᴜᴍʙᴇʟɪɴᴀ before plummeting back down again. She glared at the carny.

"Told you there was something squirrely going on," Sprout murmured.

"That won't even get you a teddy bear, sweetie," he said. "Try again."

Tilly nodded and was about to do just that when she noticed the man's hand linger at the side of the game. She swore she saw a twinge of his finger, as though he was hitting a switch. Her expression darkened.

The next swing of the mallet made a noise so loud that some people at the surrounding games took pause, a few interested eyes swiveling in Tilly's direction. The weight soared by ᴛʜᴜᴍʙᴇʟɪɴᴀ but had ran out of steam near ʙᴇᴀsᴛʟʏ.

The carny stared for a moment but swallowed back the awe in his expression with an oiled and practiced smile.

"Tell you what." He plucked a pretty porcelain doll from the second shelf, brushing aside some of the toy's shiny brown hair as he took her to Tilly. "Believe it or not, I really don't like to see people walk away from this game empty-handed. Why don't you take this and cut your losses?"

"It's okay if you want to," Sprout chimed in. "You tried, Tilly, but like you said—this game's fixed, and the doll is fine enough—"

"No." It took every last ounce of willpower Tilly had not to swing the mallet at the carny, instead settling to use it to keep his distance from her and her sister. "I paid for three swings and I'm gonna take all of 'em."

"Fine. Suit yourself." Despite this display of remorse, when he returned to his chair Tilly saw him go for the switch again. She locked eyes with him this time, frowning. He only flashed a toothy, knowing grin as he hit the button a second time, then a third and fourth, until it reminded Tilly of the frantic tapping of a telegraph key.

She didn't pay it any mind. Staring down at the mallet, Tilly rolled her shoulders and gripped the handle. One foot was placed on either side of the pressure plate as she hoisted the hammer over her head. As she summoned the strength, the seams in her clothes pulsed with magic. It felt like something else had taken over, something ancient and long-rooted in the earth and the soil, something half-forgotten but no less familiar—something unearthly powerful guiding her as she brought the hammer down one final time.

The mallet hit the plate with a tremendous crack and a spray of splinters. For a moment Tilly lost sight of the weight as it zipped up the meter, leaving both ᴛʜᴜᴍʙᴇʟɪɴᴀ and ʙᴇᴀsᴛʟʏ and not even stopping, at last, for ɢɪᴀɴᴛ. The bell did not ring so much as it crashed, like a cymbal. It was so loud this time that the activity of the midway came to a dead halt. A murder of crows took off from a nearby powerline.

A shudder rippled up the meter.

The carny gave a muffled cry of surprise as the lights along either side of the game peeled back like a corn husk and toppled to the ground. The weight landed with a metallic clang, rolling to his foot.

Tilly dropped the shattered mallet from shock. A pair of rodent ears rose from her front pocket.

"Well, looks like we'll be taking that magic mirror now," Booger said, happily oblivious.

"You—you—" The carny's hand wiped down his face in disbelief as he blinked up to the empty air where the bell used to be, then down to the dozens of shattered bulbs. His shoulders trembled, voice dropping to a hiss. "The only thing you've won today is a one way ticket out of the fair, missy—"

"Please, no," Tilly pleaded. "It was rigged, I just wanted a fair game—"

"She didn't mean to break your game, mister," Sprout added, hands clutched. "It was an honest mistake—"

"There's nothing honest about you two," he hissed, jabbing a finger into Tilly's shirt before pointing towards the exit. "I don't know who you are, I don't know what you are, but you're going to leave before I call the police."

There was a worried undertone to the gathering crowd. Tilly turned to face them, looking for sympathetic faces, but she was met with a wall of apprehension, fear and audible disappointment. Sprout huddled close to her. They held hands.

"Ladies and gentleman. There's nothing to see here, just an accident. We're all well-aware of how slipshod traveling fair construction can be," a voice called out. "Move along, move along, this will be dealt with swiftly, have a lovely day at the fair."

"Oh, no." Tilly's shoulders dropped as she saw the owner of the voice easily part the sea of people, advancing towards them. Even the carny turned to take notice of the woman approaching them.

"Now, sir, what seems to be the problem?" Peter's second wife asked. 

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Author's Note: Hi folks! Thank you so much for reading The Seam Sorceress. It's hard to believe it's already over 13,400 words long. In paperback format, that's 50 pages! So, in light of this, I have a brief survey that I'd totally appreciate you answering if you have a moment. 

Just reply in-line to each question with your response. 

1. I read once that the average reader decides if a book's worth reading by page 50. Would you continue reading The Seam Sorceress from here? 

2. How is the pacing? Should I move faster or slower? 

3. Do you have a favorite character so far? 

4. How old do you think Tilly is? Keep in mind that it's been established that Sprout is 12, and Tilly is older. What's the reasoning behind your answer? 

Thanks so much! And as always, thank you so much for your comments and votes. They help The Seam Sorceress get noticed by other people. It topped the #redridinghood charts at number 17 today! I think that's pretty cool. This is a story near and dear to my heart and I am so happy to share it with you.