Chapter 1 

          ~“Counterpoint. I pay for everything so, if I don’t get a snack, no one does.”~

          It was three PM when Gracie was struck by the migraine. If you’ve never experienced a migraine, it is something like a headache, but more... more. and different. weird. and it sucks pretty hard. A pressure behind the eyes, a waxing darkness that can slowly subvert the vision. Sometimes nausea and vomiting are involved but, fortunately, that was not the case here.

          Gracie didn’t even remember making her way from the university. Presumably, she took the trolley to get to her apartment complex, but she wasn’t sure. 

          Gracie swayed, resting her forehead against the cool stainless-steel doors, keeping an eye on the floor display as it slowly ticked up. 4, 7, 7.5 ugh. Why do we have a 7.5? She thought. 9 finally! The elevator dinged and she squeezed herself through the gap of the sluggishly opening doors.

          The hallway to her apartment was an eternity, but Gracie eventually made it to Apartment 63. It took several tries, but she got the key into the lock and wrenched the door open. The key broke, which was infuriating, but Gracie was too focused on getting herself into the shower and into bed to dwell on it. She left a trail of clothes as she made her way to the bathroom.

          A long steaming shower helped. Gracie ran her hands through her golden curls, massaging her scalp. She exhaled, releasing an extended sigh.  

          “MOOOM?” Gracie twitched when she heard a young voice announce. “I’M HOOOOOME!”

          “In the shower!” she called back, wincing. A minute later she heard the bathroom door creak open a crack.

          “I got a B- in magic systems.” her son reported proudly through the narrow gap.

          “Progress!” Gracie replied, wincing as part of her migraine returned. “Stick it on the fridge.” she instructed.

          “Can I have kettle-corn?” Midas asked.

          “May I?” Gracie replied, resting her forehead against the shower wall and letting her neck soak up the water’s healing heat.

          “May I have kettle-corn?” Midas course corrected.

          “You may.”

          “Thanks! Love you!” There was a pause, then “and not just cause kettle-corn!”

          “Uh-huh.” Gracie muttered, massaging the scalp. “At least he’s becoming more self-aware...”

          She wanted to collapse onto her bed, but Gracie had duties.

          What had she planned for dinner? Gracie stared blankly into the fridge; she didn’t remember. “I need to write things down more.” she muttered, closing the fridge and making her way to the pantry. “We can’t just eat out again...” She stared at cupboards that had things on them which counted as ingredients, hoping it would jog her memory, but to no avail.

          “Mmm... maybe toasted cheese...?” she mumbled. Toasted cheese would definitely be simple, she just needed bread, butter, and shredded cheese... and tomato soup or apple sauce.

          Her eye caught her son’s report card stuck on the fridge door. Cs and Bs. Mostly Cs. Gracie noted. Which means he isn’t really absorbing the material... We should go over his homework more...

          “Midas!” she called.

          “Yeah?” he replied.

          “Did you have any homework today?”

          “Nope! Not after Test Days.”

          “Ok. Next time you get homework let me know, we’ll go over it together.”

          “Oh...ok...I guess...”

          Right, time to stab something. Gracie decided, fishing in the silverware drawer for a sufficiently sturdy fork.

          “Could you cut this?” Midas asked, dropping his knife in frustration.

          “I cooould... if you said the magic words.” Gracie replied.

          “I uh, don’t remember them...”

          “Say please, Midas.”

          “Oh! I thought there were actual magic—could you please cut this for me?” he asked. Gracie leaned over and cut the baked potato.

          “Thanks, Mom.”

          “You are welcome.”

          Gracie was just about done brewing herbal tea when she noticed a tangle of blond curly hair peeking over the counter, accompanied by an adorable round nose to match her own. “Do you want some?” she asked. The mass of hair nodded. “It’s ginger.” she warned. The head nodded again. “oookaaay.” Gracie said, in a tone that indicated that it was the head's own funeral.

          Midas, having changed into his geometric shape printed pajamas Gracie noticed, shuffled over and she poured him a bit using one of the cappuccino cups, then stirred in a teaspoon of honey. “Careful, it’s hot! And super strong.” she warned. The head nodded again. Gracie eyed her child as she slid the cup and saucer over to him.

          The spit take was not unexpected, even with the honey. Gracie rubbed his head as Midas clawed at his tongue, attempting to scrape off all traces of the ginger abomination. “A worthy attempt, I suppose.” she consoled, wiping ginger tea from her face and running her glasses under the faucet.

          “That was the worst!” Midas accused.

          Gracie shrugged. “You asked for it.” She bent down and retrieved a hand towel from a kitchen drawer.

          “Can I have chocolate milk?”

          “Did you get an A?” Gracie inquired as she dried her face.

          “... Does, uhm, lunch count?” Midas quarried.

          Gracie frowned. “I'm pretty sure you don’t get graded for lunch.”

          “If I were, I would totally get an A.” he assured her.

          “How do you figure?”

          “I ate my veggietales.” he told her.

          “...Do you mean your vegetables?”

          “It’s more fun if I imagine them like in the cartoon.” he explained.

          “You mean you prefer to eat your food alive?” Gracie attempted to clarify.

          “Yeah!”

          Oh. Gracie thought, momentarily drawing a blank...I’m not sure how to address this...

          “...That’s not very nice.” she managed to weakly get out.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

          “I’m like a herbivore dinosaur preying on prime ordeal vegetable people!” Midas explained, baring his teeth, presumably to show her his excellent vegetable murdering chompers.

          Gracie massaged her temples. “Even if you’re a dinosaur, it’s still not nice. Please, don’t pretend to eat people alive. Or at all, actually. It definitely wouldn't get you an A in Lunch, so,” Gracie laid down her verdict, “no chocolate milk for you until you mend your herbivore ways.”

          “Dangit Mom!” Midas cried, scowling. “I need to be less honest!” Gracie chose to ignore that last comment. It probably makes me a bad parent... “You may, however, have normal milk, or seltzer water.” she conceded.

          Midas perked up at this. “Strawberry Seltzer?” he asked. Gracie gave him a thumbs up as she stirred a generous dollop of honey into her tea. 

          He gave her a quick hug and sprinted over to the fridge. The appliance was barely two meters away, but he managed to almost slip in his pajamas anyway.

He’ll grow up far too quickly. Gracie thought soberly, as she took a sip. She spewed tea all over the island counter. 

          “What the hell? How old is this ginger?!” she snapped, inspecting the loose leaf tin. After scanning several paragraphs on the back, the supplier had managed to fit a surprising amount on such a small surface, she found the age in bold right next to the brand name. 

          Gracie winced. “500 years, yeeesh.” She added more honey. “I’m basically having tea with my honey now.” she complained, shaking her head.

          “You’ll get fat eating so much honey.” Midas informed her as he climbed up onto a tall chair.

          Gracie narrowed her eyes. “That’s rude.” she said, poking her son. “I don’t remember raising such a rude boy.”

          Midas held his palms up in a helpless appeal. “I’m just stating the facts, Mom.” he said, heedlessly dig his own grave.

          “Facts. Interesting. It sounds like you really enjoy stating facts.” Gracie said lightly. She watched as Midas paused mid-nod, then looked back at her guileless gaze. “Uhmmm, you know, that depends, I guess. Facts can uh, be overrated sometimes. Or even be not complete or mis-constructed...” her son verbally backpedaled.

          “I believe the word you are looking for is misconstrued.” Gracie helpfully pointed out.

          “Yeah, that.” Midas nodded vigorously, taking a shaky sip from his strawberry seltzer.

          “So, when you say that I’ll get fat because I’m adding extra honey...?”

          “I think you might be...misconstruing what I said.” Midas continued, licking his lips. “You see, er, you might get fat...” Midas pointed at the honey jar. “Probably not, though. You do a lot of... p-pushups? I hear that totally counteracts fat...ness.”

          Gracie sighed, leaning over. “You were doing so well.” she said, giving him a noogie. “Finish your seltzer, then it’s bedtime.”

          “Can we watch The Sheep Bandit?”

          “Again?”

          “A new episode came out!” he enthused.

          “Mmm...” Gracie said, sipping her ginger flavored honey. She debated whether she felt up to watching the cartoon. The migraine was still circling in the back of her head.

          “I love you no matter what, and you’re super-skinny and, uh, strong!” Midas said, flexing a tiwig-like bicep in a spirited attempt at flattery. “You could probably knock out a           minotaur...”

          Gracie snorted. She took another sip then slip her cup away. “Oh, alright, but get ready for bed first!”

          “K!” he called over his shoulder as he scampered to the bathroom. 

          The Sheep Bandit was hunting wolves in this episode, with bear and lasso traps. Also, oddly enough, a remote-controlled semi-automatic ballista they had somehow rigged on a nearby mountaintop. The wolves were portrayed as great, brutish, cunning creatures that tended to slip out of the traps and were in the end, only put down by the ballista. The last one at point blank range.

          “I would have used magic.” Midas sagely critiqued the Sheep Bandit’s tactics. “The Wiley Wolf Gang would have been toast with the right inferno or fulmination enchantment.”

          “Oh? You don’t think the wolves would have scented such charged spells?” Gracie asked.

          “I’d hide it with a stink bomb or something.” Midas asserted.

          “Hmmm...”

          “Sheep Bandit should never have let them get so close to its ballista.”

          “When is the next episode?” Gracie asked.

          Midas let out a long sigh. “Next month!” he lamented, throwing up his hands and running them through his curly hair.

          “Enough time to let them know through fan mail, then.” Gracie pointed out.

          “...I gueeess...”

          “...Well!” Gracie said, “that’s done! Bedtime!”

          “Uuuuuuuugh! Fiiine.” Midas replied, groaning as he slir off the couch.

          “Oh, hey, hold up,” Gracie said, holding her arms wide. “Come ’ere.” Midas rolled his eyes but obeyed, walking into her embrace. Gracie kissed him on the head. “I love you, child.”

          “I’m not a child, ya’know.” he grumbled. Gracie held him until he eventually mumbled “...love you, too.”

          “There we go.” Gracie grinned, releasing him. “Sleep well, Midas.”

          “Uh-huh, you too, Mom.”

          Gracie watched as he went to his room, then she returned to the kitchen and poured out the rest of her ginger tea, sighing. “Now I need to buy more tea.”

          That night Gracie dreamed.

          The moon was shattered like a porcelain plate. The shards drifted in space, just barely caught in Limbo’s gravity, they hung over the baren planet like swords of doom, just waiting for a shift in cause and effect to come spearing down.

          Gracie stared up into the sky filled with danger and basked in the light of the shattered moon. “Finally, home.” she whispered, a faint smile growing into a full-blown grin. There was something off, though. She squinted, then felt at her face. “Where are my glasses?”  

          Gracie jumped and found that Limbo’s gravity only touched her lightly. So, she began her search, vaulting from valley to mountaintop searching for her glasses.  She couldn’t find them anywhere, though. It felt like forever before she realized as she stood on the surface of the moon that they had been on her head the entire time, nestled in her curls.

          “That was stupid.” she told the dragon corpse, polishing her lenses on her pajama top.

           “I don’t know what you have against dragons,” her magic sword said. “Violence never solved anything, you know.”

          “They need to learn to respect their betters.” she informed her sword.

          “That’s rich, coming from you.”

          “Oh, shut up.” Grace snapped, tossing the sword from the moon down to the planet below. “It’s not even a real dragon, just some dungeon’s meat puppet.” zhe shouted down.

          “Wow, your dreams are pretty morbid, huh?” a voice called from the void.

          “Who said that?!”

          “Just a poor, wayfaring stranger.”

          Gracie summoned her magic sword back to her hand. How? Using magic, duh.

          “You should learn to mind your own business, stranger.” Gracie warned.

          “Ok, ok. I know when I’m unwanted. But, um, you should check your glasses.”

          “Huh?” Gracie pulled her glasses from her face, examining them. “They’re all scratched up!... wait…” she squinted. “What in the world?” Upon closer inspection she found that they weren’t actually scratched. They were covered by teenie-tiny webs, made by teenie-tiny wyrms. 

          The creatures squirmed along their webs, spreading their disgusting silk threads. Gracie slammed her glasses down onto the broken moon’s surface.

          “Curse these meddling wyrms!” Gracie shouted, lurching forward in bed. She stared into the familiar darkness of her room and realized that she’d broken into a cold sweat.           “...What. The fuck?”

          “Mooom?” Gracie heard a drowsy voice call from the hallway. She rubbed her face, took a deep, cleansing breath.

          “What’s up, Baby-bird?” she asked.

          “I’m not a baby... and you said a bad word.” Midas accused.

          Gracie licked her chapped lips. “...That’s how you banish bad dreams.”

          “...Oh...” Midas said, looking a bit lost as he wandered through her doorway.

          “...But it only works for grown-ups.” Gracie hastily added. “Kids have to use...uhm... midnight snacks.” Swearing also works for kids but I’m not about to tell you that. 

          “...Oh! You know, I think I just had a bad dream...” Midas confided.

          Well done, Gracie, she congratulated herself, you’ve successfully diverted your son from his mom’s deception. “We should probably take care of that, huh?”

          “Uh-huh.” Midas nodded. “But you don’t get any, since you get swears.”

          “Sorry, I’m a kid at heart,” Gracie informed her son as she rolled out of bed, “so I get the best of both worlds.”

          “That’s not fair.” he grumbled.

          “Life’s not fair.” Gracie replied automatically, informing her progeny of this cold, terrible truth.

          “But we can make it more fair,” he argued.

          “Counterpoint. I pay for everything, and if I don’t get a snack, no one does.” Gracie said as she slipped on her slippers, “and I’m thinking… Rocky-Road.”

          “...I guess we don’t have to make life fair tonight.” her son conceded, being a practical child.