“Maggie?” Chad grumbled, clearly irritated. “I don’t know any Maggie…”

“Of course, you don’t,” Maggie responded without an ounce of passion in her voice. “I took everyone’s memories except for one man…My father.”

“Maggie,” Pigchard squealed, “Is that really you…?”

“Yes father,” Maggie said with the only ounce of respect directed at him. “I did not expect you to try and resurrect me. But my body had long since decayed, and the ritual brought my spirit back to your world, I found the most suitable person to inhabit instead”—Maggie’s voice sneered—“Chad’s one true love.”

“Get out of her, you rotten pig-halfling,” Chad growled, and lumbered towards her. With a quick extension of her arm, Maggie cast a spell of white light, and pinned Chad to the ground.

“I wouldn’t try if I were you,” Maggie taunted. “Or else, you’ll hurt your true love too.”

Chad struggled angrily on the ground, but no one offered him any pity. Only Janus looked at him with sorrowful eyes that reflected the pain of his treachery.

“Not that he’d be able to handle me anyway,” Maggie laughed coldly. “After all, I reduced him to such a pitiful corpse. Not even dear Plumerella would want him now… if she saw him.”

“You did this?” Chad screamed, raging as he was pinned down. “Now I’m going to really tear you apart when I get out of this.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Maggie laughed again. Her laughs were dry and cold, even deader than Chad’s body. “I’d like to see any of you try…to see how I feel.”

Everyone made their move on Maggie, attempting to stop her. Mena drew her brush and aimed it right at Maggie’s head, but Maggie simply turned around with her hands outstretched. Mena’s brush launched of hand, flying directly into the hand of the Ghost Writer herself. The Good Fairy appeared beside Maggie. “I forgot,” the Good Fairy said, shaking her head. “Even if you have potential to become the next Ghost Writer, Maggie still retains her power and unless she disappears, she will remain with that title for all eternity.”

Maggie’s face shadowed ominously in the golden glow of the Plume. “and since there’s nothing you can do about it. Let’s play a game.”

“Before you cast stones on me,” Maggie said, getting very theatrical as she held her hands out from side to side. “Let me cast you back to the time when I was living. Let’s see if you can escape it, because if you can’t, I will take you to Anguish all by myself.”

Before Mena or any of her friends could utter a word, Maggie tore a hole in the dimensional fabric before them, casting them into a purple and blue checkered void. Mena screamed as she fell through it, watching time itself turn backwards on a giant clock and melt into a puddle of goo.

At last, when she opened her eyes, she stood in the very forest grove where they had met Pigchard. A young woman stood before them, wrapped tightly in a hooded robe. Her hair was brunette, cut uneven to her neck and a bit scraggly. Her cheeks were full, and her eyes were dark and small. Right above thin lips, a pig snout and a large mole protruded.

Maggie’s voice echoed before them. “Here you will meet me, before I was killed by the very world that fascinated me to no end. I did not know it yet, for my mind was still young.”

Maggie’s round dark eyes reflected in the moonlight as she overlooked the castle town of New Brushwick. It was alit with torches and there was a happy crowd of people, singing and chanting outside of it. “This is it,” Maggie said to herself. “I can finally see the world.”

The world dissolved before Mena’s eyes and when it became focused again, Maggie happily ran down an alleyway to the central square. When she reached the end, all the joy on her face seemed to vanish in an instant. People in the square sported hideous masks. They resembled ugly pigs and participated in all kinds of strange festivities. There were striped carnival tents where children threw darts at pink balloons resembling pigmalian rear ends, complete with curly tails. Burly men sat at wooden tables, chowing on pork rinds and chugging mead in some kind of eating contest. At the center of the square was the most horrifying sight: A large pigmalian was roasting on a spit with an apple crammed in his mouth. The smell of bacon wafted through the air and Maggie looked uneasy. She seized a pig mask from a nearby vendor and donned it. Running off, she didn’t even turn around when the vendor screamed at her, “Stop thief. You’re supposed to pay for that!!

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Tears seeped below Maggie’s new pig mask as she pulled her hood up and ran from the square. She ran so fast she didn’t even look where she was going and crashed into another hooded girl.

Tumbling onto the ground, Maggie quickly grabbed her pigm ask while the other girl had a dazed, far-away smile. Placing the mask onto her face, Maggie peered through the eyeholes. The girl opposite from her shook her head. Her eyes were large and almond shaped; bright blue pools that contrasted well with her golden blond hair. There were purple and green feathers in her hair. Princess Plumerella, Mena thought, what was she doing here?

“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” the princess said. “I’m so awfully clumsy I didn’t realize where it was going.”

Maggie stared transfixed at the princess’ radiant aura. Plumerella tilted her head with intrigue. “So, what brings you to the 50th Annual Celebacon?”

“The 50th Annual Celebacon?” Maggie repeated.

“It’s a celebration to pay tribute to the heroes who fought in the Great War of the Hands and Hooves—a war between New Brushwick and Pigmalia.”

Maggie shook her head solemnly. “I had no idea that humans and pigmalians hated each other?”

“It was news to me too,” Plumerella said earnestly, “They never let me leave the castle for anything…”—Plumerella squeaked and covered her mouth—"Oops, I mean, the house.”

“Castle?” Maggie said, her low voice growing snide. “What do you mean by castle, feathers?”

Plumerella turned bright red, so red that it would have made an excellent foundational blush. “Please, please don’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to be out here. I wanted to see the world for what it really is…”

Maggie was silent, but Mena had a feeling there was a lot of meditation on her brow. “Me too, actually,” she said at last.

“Really?” Plumerella asked, after nearly hyperventilating. “Where do you hail from?”

“The forest,” Maggie said bluntly. “But I do not wish to talk about it…”

Plumerella nodded and reached for her hand. “Very well. Can I at least see whoever lies behind that terrifying mask?”

“NO,” Maggie said, shrieking loudly, before realizing her behavior. “I mean no. There was a great Weasel Plague outside the city. I’ve recovered, but my face is still full of Wumps.”

Plumerella recoiled in horror. “I’ve never heard of the Wumps. There’s so much I’ve never gotten to see outside the castle. But it seems that somethings I’ve been mercifully spared of.”

“You’re telling me,” Maggie muttered beneath her breath, but Plumerella continued to hold her hand.

“Regardless, Wumps or no Wumps, you are officially my first new friend…er…”

“Maggie,” Maggie said, shyly.

“Maggie, it is a true pleasure,” Plumerella said, her cherry red dimples lighting up her face. “My name is Plumerella the first. I hope you will enjoy a night with me that is absolutely Splendidful.”

“Splendidful?” Maggie asked, her voice rising ever so slightly. “Is that even a word?”

“Nope,” Plumerella said, raising her gloved hands skyward. “But like this word, tonight is going to be very unique and different for the both of us.”

Mena watched both girls as they happily skipped town and played outside in the forest moonlight together. Outside of the festival, Maggie loosened up considerably. She ran over and skimmed stones on the rim of a dark lake that reflected the silver moon.

“Come on,” Maggie said, running over to the edge of the lake. “This is my favorite spot. One of the only places I got to go as a child.”

“Are you sure?” Plumerella asked tentatively. “This is where the great Loch Bess monster lives”

“Ooh,” Maggie responded, holding her hands up excitedly. “Did you read that fairy tale too?”

Plumerella’s gave a sad, soft smile in moonlight. “My mother used to read that to me every night. It was scary, but it was also one of my favorites.”

“Worry not,” Maggie said, her voice becoming considerably gentler. “When you hear about myths and legends, they are sometimes a lot scarier than they are in person. But once I visited Loch Bess, I realized that it was merely a story.”

Plumerella’s bright eyes made direct contact through Maggie’s mask. “Really?”

“Of course,” Maggie’s voice quickly changed to teasing, as she extended a hand. “Unless you’re s-c-a-r-e-d?”

“Of course not,” Plumerella’s voice quickly changed to comically indignant. She grasped Maggie’s hand.

They dipped their feet into the lake and told each other about the fairy tales they grew up with—the only reflection of the outside world to them. Mena caught a glimpse of Maggie’s hand sliding ever closer to Plumerella’s as they sat by the water’s edge, but right as they did, an enormous shadow draped over them, causing both girls to scream.

“What in blazes are you two broads doing out so late?” a familiar cad-like voice accosted them. “Don’t you know that there are handsome beasties out there waiting to get you? LIKE ME?”

The world froze before Mena and Maggie’s cold, dry voice repeated the phrase. “It was with those words, that my fate was sealed.”