The morning after the murder was far from typical in the cookie shop.

I stood in the kitchen, trying to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of cutting and shaping the gingerbread dough. The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg usually helped calm my nerves, but it wasn’t working.

It seemed that the whole town was buzzing about the mayor’s murder, and worse, about me.

The bell above the front door jingled again, the sound cutting through my thoughts.

Jared had been up front all morning dealing with the customers, but it seemed every time I looked, he was getting more frustrated.

When I heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen, I knew something was bothering him.

“Customers aren’t buying much today,” he grumbled as he walked in, and angrily set to work at he dishwasher station. “But they’re sure buying into the latest gossip.” he said slamming cookie sheets around.

Jared did this when something had gotten his temper up. I personally didn’t do the dishes, so I just normally let him handle them. Especially when he was irritated.

I sighed, setting down the cookie cutter and glancing at him. “What now?”

“More of the same,” Jared said, running a hand through his hair.

“Mrs. Claus’s story about the Perchten has spread like wildfire. The man’s not even cold a single day, and they’re talking about the murder like it’s some twisted sideshow attraction.” he vented as he angrily slammed a cookie sheet into the sanitizer

“And now… Oh you’re going to this one.” he said turning to face me.

“Somehow, I don’t know how, but somehow, details about your cookies being found in the body have leaked. And these sickos are treating it like some kind of twisted punchline in a sick morbid joke.” .

That made me pause, my chest tightening. Closing my eyes I took a breath to steady myself.

“My cookies?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but hoping Jared would say something different.

He nodded, his face hardening. “Yeah. The last group of townsfolk practically cackled about it. They said the killer must’ve been mocking you by stuffing them inside the mayor. How could they even know that?”

I clenched my fists, feeling a rush of anger. “They shouldn’t know that. I only found out because Harris told me, and he made it sound like it was supposed to be kept quiet.”

“Well, it’s not quiet anymore,” Jared said, crossing his arms. “And now everyone’s starting to look at you, like you’re somehow involved. It’s not just gossip now, Nora. This is serious. It’s damaging.”

I could feel the heat rising in my face. It wasn’t just the fact that people were talking, it was the carelessness. How had something so sensitive, so crucial to the investigation, already spread through town?

“I’ve had it with this,” I muttered, throwing my towel onto the counter. Now I was equally as angry as Jared

“Mrs. Claus is bad enough with all her wild stories and her gossiping. But this? This could ruin us.”

Before Jared could respond, the bell jingled again. We heard the door close softly and heavy boots approaching.

“Hello? Jared? Nora?” came the familiar voice of Harris.

“Back here!” Jared called out to him.

Harris stepped into the kitchen a moment later, looking as serious as ever.

“Nora, Jared,” he greeted us, nodding. “I need to ask you a few more questions about the…”

I cut him off, stepping toward him with anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh goodie! I have a few questions of my own, Officer Harris,” I snapped, emphasizing his rank, my voice sharper than I intended.

Harris looked at me like a deer trapped in the headlights.

“Like, how in the world did details about my cookies end up in the gossip mill? You said it was confidential!” I said, my temper flaring on him.

Harris blinked, clearly taken aback. “Nora, I…”

“No! Don’t 'Nora' me,” I continued, my anger and frustration spilling over.

“You told me the details were only known by a few people. Only by cops in your department!” I said, thrusting a finger into his chest. “ So how come half the town already knows about it? Who else knew?”

Harris shifted uncomfortably. He glanced almost pleadingly at Jared, his brows furrowing.

When he looked back to me he said, “No one outside the department knew. Nora I swear to you. Honestly, we’ve been careful.”

“Careful?!” I let out a disbelieving laugh.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Clearly, you haven’t been careful enough! Because now I’m being publicly dragged into this whole mess, and my reputation is on the line.”

I turned and began pacing rubbing my temples.

“Nora, please, I’m telling you the truth. It didn’t come from us…”

I whirled on him say, “For Christ sake Harris! It hasn’t even been a full day yet! I run a business here! And we just heard that people are starting to talk like I’m some kind of accomplice in all this!”

“Nora, I can assure you…”

“Assure me? You can assure me of nothing, Officer.” My voice was rising again, and I could see the worry in Jared’s eyes, but I was too angry to stop.

“You need to go back to your department and figure out where your leaks are before you come back here asking me anymore questions. Because until you do, you’re just making things worse for me!” I said.

Harris opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off again.

“Get out of my shop, NOW!” I ordered, my hands trembling as I thrust a finger towards the front of the shop.

“And don’t you dare come back until you’ve plugged those bloody leaks.” I said, my voice now dropping to a deadly whisper, “I refuse to let your department ruin my business. NOW GET OUT!!”

With a stunned look, Harris glanced at a light that had begun to flicker, then turned and left my kitchen without another word.

Jared didn’t say anything, just came up next to me and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

I stood there, chest heaving, staring at the door and wondering how everything had gone so horribly wrong so quickly.

I heard the bell above the door jingled softly as Harris left, the sound barely cutting through the storm in my head.

I stood there, heart racing, staring at the spot where he’d been. I could feel the anger bubbling up, like a pot about to boil over, and it was taking everything I had not to let it.

“Nora,” Jared’s voice came from behind me, calm but edged with worry. “You’ve got to calm down.”

Calm down? How could I calm down?

“I can’t calm down, Jared!” I said, whirling on him, my breath coming in short bursts.

“Who else knew about those cookies? How did that detail get out? This is my business! OUR BUSINESS! Our livelihood, Jared! Why should I calm down?!” My voice wavered as I paced the small kitchen.

I knew I wasn’t angry at him, but I couldn’t stop. The frustration was pouring out of me in waves.

I felt it before I heard it—the hum in the air. The sharp buzzing that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I knew what it was. My Dad had told me about it once. He had called it “Witch Fire.”

It happens when a witch hits her limits. When they become so full of blind rage that it consumes every bit of their being. Then… POP!

The light above us exploded, shards of glass and twinkling sparks rained down onto the counter.

Jared ducked, eyes wide. “Nora...” he said carefully, straightening up. “Please, take it easy.”

I barely heard him. “Easy?” I spat the word, pacing faster now.

“How can I ‘take it easy’ when everyone in this town is talking about me? About my cookies! And that busybody, Patricia Claus, spreading her gossip like it’s a free-for-all! This is going to ruin everything for us, Jared!”

I could feel the pressure building.

The air itself seemed to tremble with every step I took, every word that flew out of my mouth.

Objects in the kitchen began to tremble too. Vibrating, like they could feel the tension as much as I could.

Jared, ever the sensible one, edged toward the back door, trying to get out of the blast zone. He knew what was coming. “Nora, you’ve got to breathe. Don’t…”

But it was too late.

My anger surged, hot and uncontrollable.

Suddenly, another bulb popped, showering more glass onto the floor. Pots hanging from hooks rattled and clanged against each other.

The drawers, one by one, jerked open and slammed shut with deafening bangs.

“Nora!” Jared’s voice was somewhere behind me, but I wasn’t listening. I was too focused, too angry. And I knew, without a doubt, who was to blame.

Mrs. Claus.

I could feel her next door. I could see her there, in George’s bookshop, spinning her tales, gossiping to anyone who would listen.

I could almost hear her voice, clucking on about what she “knew,” making my personal hell into town fodder.

The world had become a storm swirling within and around me as a red haze descended over my vision.

Jared lunged for the door just as the kitchen erupted into chaos.

The cabinets flung open, cookie sheets and dishes crashed to the floor, and the pots began to fly off their hooks.

More bulbs shattered, raining down cascades of sparks and glass.

The drawers and cabinets where violently opened and slammed shut repeatedly, while plates, pans, and other utensils and items was spat out just as viciously and hovered in the air.

The whole kitchen had come alive and was throwing a fit.

I stormed toward the front door, leaving a trail of chaos in my wake like some angry spirit.

Displays toppled, cookies flying through the air, dancing like characters in play to a silent song.

More lights blew out, and on the street, as I exited the shop, the unmistakable sound of car alarms going off, tires hissing as they went flat.

I pushed open the door to George’s bookshop with so much force it nearly came off the hinges. The bell above the door let out a pathetic jingle before popping off, landing somewhere behind me.

I stormed inside, and sure enough, there she was… Mrs. Claus, standing with George and Julee, holding court like the queen of gossip.

“You!” I pointed at her, and she jumped, as though I had touched her with a cattle prod.

“Nora…?!” she started, backing away, her hands up as if to protect herself, but I cut her off.

“Who told you?!” I shouted, and as the words flew from my mouth, books began flying from the shelves around us.

As the place erupted into chaos, George lunged behind the counter, covering his head as he valiantly tried to shield Julee with his body.

“Who told you about my cookies?” I hissed at her venomously.

“I…I don’t remember!” Mrs. Claus stammered in fear as she backing away from me.

She paled to new shade of gray and coward pathetically as the bookshelves creaked ominously. “It’s just what I heard!”

“WHO?!” I shouted, the air about me crackling with blue arches of electrical energy.

“I swear, I don’t remember!” She shouted back at me in terror, as she hunkered down on the floor her arm over her head in a vain attempt to shield herself.

The bookcases groaned under the weight of my fury, and suddenly, with a loud crash, all the shelves dropped, sending books tumbling to the floor.

The coffee machine behind the counter began to sputter, then burst, eliciting shouts of pain from behind the counter as it sprayed hot liquid in every direction. Withing seconds both Julee and George came scrambling out, desperately, though feebly, trying to cover their heads from the boiling liquid.

I barely noticed. My head was spinning, my vision a crimson fog of rage, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my anger burning too hot to control. It welled up inside me, like an inferno of fury and blind emotion.

I couldn’t hold it any more. It had become an unstoppable tidal wave of emotions. Crushing every fiber of my being.

I threw back my head and screamed. Letting out all the pain and rage. The sound shattering the chaos around me driving back the pain and heartbreak.

The world stopped then, for a moment at least.

I screamed and screamed until the red haze lifted from my eyes. Until everything, the world, the shop, every single thing that had pushed my buttons, was silent and still.

Finally, as the last bit of energy left me, and I had nothing left in me to scream out, everything went silent. Peaceful, silent, and dark…