My husband and I always keep a chess board set up with an ongoing game between us. Usually we play during winters, when we get a few cold days that keep us inside, ones that dip into the lower 70s or even 60s and make us Floridians bundle up in sweaters—brrr!
But this winter, it’s been pleasant, lots of abnormal highs,
and we’ve been outside so much that we don’t ever meet up at the game board. We
place a marker to indicate whose turn it is, which helps, but I have trouble
remembering the action of the last move.
Yesterday, while I was out poking in the flower beds, I
found this little orange guy trembling and trying his best to hide under some
bougainvillea flowers of the same hue.
He told me he’d like a job as a brownie, even though he was orange, that times were hard for orange brownies in this economy, and that he came well qualified with recommendations, if I was interested.
I said I was sorry but didn’t need a house faery, then recalled my problems with our chess games, which he said was right up his alley. I didn’t know whether to believe him but invited him inside and was immediately convinced when, without any direction from me toward the battle field, he hopped onto the game table, made himself at home, and has been acting as a sort of long-term referee for several days now.
Since I’m a fantasy writer, my husband accused me of manipulating fae magic to my benefit.
I told him to go find his own orange brownie under the bougainvillea to hire, and he just shook his head while galloping his knight out of danger.
He told me he’d like a job as a brownie, even though he was orange, that times were hard for orange brownies in this economy, and that he came well qualified with recommendations, if I was interested.
I said I was sorry but didn’t need a house faery, then recalled my problems with our chess games, which he said was right up his alley. I didn’t know whether to believe him but invited him inside and was immediately convinced when, without any direction from me toward the battle field, he hopped onto the game table, made himself at home, and has been acting as a sort of long-term referee for several days now.
Since I’m a fantasy writer, my husband accused me of manipulating fae magic to my benefit.
I told him to go find his own orange brownie under the bougainvillea to hire, and he just shook his head while galloping his knight out of danger.
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