Dispelled

Fantasy; 30,000 words - Never queried

A quirky, humorous adventure unfolds when all the magic vanishes from the Enchanted Forest following the sudden death of the king—and it’s up to Prince Sandy and June Bug to find out why.

Once upon a time, a young girl named June lived with her parents in a small cottage just inside the borders of the Enchanted Forest.

Or, rather – perhaps I should not begin this story with “once upon a time.” “Once upon a time” is for fairytales, I am told, and this story has an astonishing lack of faeries. You see, dear reader, there used to be faeries in the Enchanted Forest. Even yesterday, you could have wandered out of June’s front door and seen so many faeries, your eyes would have been bedazzled by their gold-veined wings, and your ears filled with the shrieks of laughter that chimed like bells in the wind.

Faeries, in fact, were June’s best friends. She would be very upset indeed when she realized that they were suddenly nowhere to be found. She would be devastated when she learned that this was because all the magic in the Enchanted Forest had vanished, and no one knew why or how to fix it.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

I should let you see how June figures out something is wrong, and how she handles it.

Otherwise I would not be a very good storyteller, now would I?

On the seventh day of the sixty-second year of King Richard’s reign, June Bug woke up as usual to bright sunlight streaming through the heavy curtains that hung crookedly from the window panes — and yet, something felt different. The air, thick and heavy, bore down on her; her head felt stuffed, as though it were filled from ear to ear with the thick woolen scarves that her mother, Mrs. Bug, liked to knit in her spare time.

Uneasy, June threw back the covers and sprang out of bed. Her blue quilt tumbled to the ground. She kicked it underneath the bed, her head spinning wildly on her neck as she scanned her room.

Nothing seemed out of place. There was her wooden desk with the wobbly chair tucked underneath, her haphazard stack of books on the small window seat, and Speedy, her turtle, lying under the hazy red glow of his heat lamp. Only Jazzycat was missing; she was probably already outside, chasing the rabbits that were always trying to get into Mrs. Bug’s herb garden.

June frowned, then sniffed the air suspiciously. But there was no mossy scent of mischievous changelings, or the dampness of dianates, or foul goblin stench. Only the comforting smell of fresh wood and pine needles drifting inside through her cracked-open window.

June shrugged. She must have been imaging things.

It was time to get ready for the day.

Now on her hands and knees, June shoved aside the blue quilt and pulled out wrinkled clothes from beneath the bed. She pawed through them, looking for her favorite green robe.

The bed, built by Mr. Bug, listed slightly to one side. While Mr. Bug’s work lacked a certain amount of finesse, Mrs. Bug had given up on trying to hire servicemen to fix his mistakes. Half the time they never showed up, too afraid to venture alone beyond the charmed protection of the Castle walls — or even worse, they disappeared en route.

Once June found her robe, she slipped it on over her flannel pajamas. Then she bounced into the hallway, leaving her clothes sprawled across the striped rug. She slid across the wooden floor in her thick cotton socks.

Just outside the bathroom door, June paused.

She and Mirror had gotten into an awful fight yesterday; one much worse than usual. She had forgotten again to open the bathroom window before she showered, so the steam had fogged his surface. He claimed that the fog prevented him from keeping all but a dim eye on the going ons in the Enchanted Forest. June was sure that the real reason behind his anger was that he didn’t like being wet.

But Mirror did the unthinkable this time. He tattled on her to her parents. As his observations of the Forest were the entire reason why her parents had charmed him into existence in the first place, June found herself on dish duty for a whole month. She had responded with a few unfortunate statements.

June let out a big breath. She wasn’t looking forward to facing Mirror. Once he was in a mood, there was no dealing with him. He could shout all day if he wanted, since his vocal cords never grew tired. Or he could sing off-key in the screechiest, most horrifying tunes that made June’s hairs stand on end. He could be even worse than the deaf Doodle birds, who identified each other by clashing sounds that no other self-respecting bird would be caught dead making.

Well, there was no way around it. She would just have to do her best to ignore Mirror, as she was certainly not going to apologize.

June braced herself and then pushed open the door. To her surprise, Mirror’s phantom face did not appear on his glossy surface. June could count on one hand the number of times that Mirror didn’t immediately have something to say to her.

Of course, you and I, dear reader — we know why he wasn’t there. It’s impossible for a magical creature to exist without magic.

But poor June still had not yet figured it out.

“Oh what, so now you’re giving me the silent treatment?” June huffed, although she was secretly relieved. “See if I care!”

June climbed into the ceramic tub with tacky griffin claws that Mr. Bug had picked up for almost nothing at the local Woodcutter’s Market. She pulled the yellow curtain closed, leaving her robe and clothes in a heap on the floor, before turning on the shower. She did not open the bathroom’s window.

Within minutes, steam fogged up the small oval mirror hanging above the mismatched ceramic sink. But the polished surface remained silent; there wasn’t so much as a whisper or grumble from Mirror. All she could hear was the hot water hissing out of the shower head.

June frowned. How could Mirror ignore such an insult?

The silent treatment, which at first had seemed preferable, now grew eerie.

“Mirror, I’m sorry,” June said finally.

Mirror didn’t answer.