Faerie Trinkets

Everything's Just Right

Twirling a lock of golden hair about her finger, Bee entered the kitchen and breathed in the sweet scent of freshly made porridge. "Such a lovely, peaceful morning," she said to herself.

There were three chairs gathered around the table, each inscribed with a name: Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear. And set in front of each one was a steaming bowl of porridge.

Bee settled into in the smallest chair, inching it closer as she took another whiff of the delightful breakfast awaiting her. "Ooh, a hint of honey and lavender, I believe?"

Picking up a spoon, she helped herself to a generous portion. A moan escaped her lips as the flavors danced along her tongue, all at the perfect temperature.

"Just right," she sighed, scooping up a second spoonful.

So peaceful.

So quiet.

The perfect morning. In the perfect chair. With the perfect porridge.

With no one to disturb her.

BANG BANG BANG.

Bee's shoulders sagged at the rude interruption. "We're not home!" she called out, licking a fleck of lavender from the corner of her mouth.

BANG BANG BANG.

Rolling her eyes, she ignored the obnoxious knocking and resumed her meal. But her visitors would not relent. The banging continued until the door splintered and cracked. Two large men entered, armed with daggers and clubs.

"Where are they?" the largest intruder demanded.

"How dare you barge in here uninvited?" Bee exclaimed, slamming her spoon onto the table. "Get out this instant before I impale you both on a church spire."

"Where. Are they?" he repeated, raising his voice as his slightly smaller companion moved further into the cottage.

"This is completely uncalled for. What gives you the right to disturb my lovely morning like this? If you don't leave now, I'll—"

The smaller man gagged as he opened the bedroom door. Pulling out a rag, he held it to his nose and turned to his friend. "Found them. Well, what's left of them."

Bee heaved a sigh and slumped against her chair as the two men crowded the doorway to the bedroom. She didn't need to join them to know what was inside.

Three beds, each labeled the same as the chairs. One for Baby. One for Mama. And one for Papa. But it probably wasn't the beds that were causing the men to retch and gag.

More than likely it was Mama and Papa's butchered bodies.

"Baby Bear," said the larger man, yanking her roughly from her chair, "you're under arrest for the murders of Mama and Papa Bear."

Bee scoffed and rested her hands on her hips. "And how do you know it was me who killed them?"

He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. She followed his gaze. Oh. Right. The blood. She'd forgotten to change her dress. Silly her, always such a scatterbrain.

"You'll hang for this, Baby," he said, twisting her arms behind her back and binding them tightly.

As he pushed her towards the door, Bee gazed longingly at her perfect chair and her perfect porridge. What a terrible end to a beautiful morning. And after all the hard work she'd put into getting it.

One peaceful morning. That's all she'd wanted. A single morning to herself without the incessant chatter of her nagging parents. A quiet moment to enjoy her porridge in her chair. No interruptions. No distractions.

"Fiddlesticks," she mumbled. "And this day started out just right, too. Such a waste."