Strange Coincidences

I ducked behind a stack of books just as the door was swinging open. Too panicked to move, I crouched as low to the floor as I could. The door slammed shut, rattling the walls. “Stupid head!” The yell was followed by strange mewing noises. I peeked from around the corner of my hiding spot. Near the door was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old by the look of her. She was crying and batting at the hair that clung to her wet cheeks. “Why can’t I go to the party?” She bawled, wiping her nose with the back of her fist. I looked around, curious as to who she was talking to. Did she know that I was there? I wouldn’t put it past a witch to know, even a very young one. I was getting ready to make my presence known when someone softly tapped on the door. “Leave me alone.” The child mumbled angrily. The door opened and a witch walked in. Her pointed hat scraped the top of the door frame as she entered. I could tell by the broom in her hand that she was a forest witch. No enchantress, as Queen White was, would be caught dead carrying a cleaning instrument. In the witch’s other hand was a strange sequined bag and on her feet were pointed shoes that made me wonder where her toes had gone. Maybe she had cut them off? “Evie, honey.” The witch crooned softly. I feared for the little girl. Maybe she wasn’t a little witch. Maybe she was a prisoner. “The party is only for adults. You can’t go. Besides, I thought you’d be happy to see Kanchana.” I raised my head over the brim of one of the books. Kanchana? A small sliver of hope cut through my feelings of confusion. “But you said you were going to read me a story tonight!” The little girl whined. “Not tonight. Another night, OK? Brian’s in the living room playing video games. Why don’t you join him?” “I don’t want to play video games. I want to finish hearing about Snow White!” The witch sighed and headed back toward the door. “Evie, you’re a big girl. You’re old enough to read books by yourself. Mommy doesn’t have time to read to you every day. I work two jobs now. I told you there would have to be sacrifices. It’s for the good of the family.” “Mark doesn’t have to work a second job,” the child interjected. The witch’s brow furrowed. “I’m not discussing this with you. It’s an adult thing, OK? And I really wish you’d call him ‘Dad.’ It would mean a lot to him, you know?” The girl stared at the floor and shrugged. “Now if you want to hear about Snow White so bad, why don’t you have Kanchana read it to you?” I watched the witch leave the room, a feeling of disgust rising into my throat. I’d always been under the impression witches couldn’t spawn children. Maybe most just didn’t want to. I thought back to the twins. Children could be pretty vile. Suddenly, the wall of books I’d been hiding behind tumbled to the floor. While I’d been thinking, the little girl had come and plucked a book from the middle of the stack, toppling the pile. I flattened myself against the wall as she raised the book above her head and slammed it down on the ground. The binding cracked, sending pages to all ends of the room. They fluttered on the air like feathers before settling. I stared at the broken book in horror. “Snow White,” the title read. “It’s just a book,” I thought. “The name is a coincidence.” So why was I so scared? The little girl kicked at a pile of pages before she exited the room. I flew out behind her, hoping to follow her to an exit. My eyes wandered to the floor for a moment. One of the loose pages had a picture on it. The image showed Snow White, MY Snow White. The artist had captured her at a cottage, surrounded by the seven little men. In the background was the Queen, smirking as she twirled an apple in her hand. My stomach sank. I looked up as I neared the door, hoping to find it open. What I saw instead was the back of the little girl’s head. “Ouch!” she yelled as I ran into her, throwing a hand up to rub the spot that I’d bumped. I frantically looked for a place to hide. But it was too late. “What in the world?” She whispered, turning around to face me. “Hi,” I said meekly, waving a hand and smiling. “Mom!” The little girl suddenly screamed, bolting from the room. “There’s a fairy in my room! I think it kicked me!” I darted after the girl, hoping to catch her before she found the witch. I rounded the corner and dropped out of sight. “It kicked me right here!” The girl exclaimed, pointing toward the back of her head and then down the hall. “It was in my room!” The witch had a pained expression on her face. “There are no such things as fairies. There aren’t any monsters in your closet or under your bed. You will not turn into a mermaid if you take a bath. Now be good! Don’t wear Kanchana out tonight with your imagination. ” It wasn’t until the witch started talking that I noticed the bizarre environment around me. The room was unbelievably loud for only having four people in it. I had to strain just to hear what was being said. Beside the witch stood a king. They made an odd match. I wondered if he was something she had magicked up. His clothes were completely unorthodox. The crown on his head was flimsy and cheap. The sword at his side was clearly cut from paper and filled in with sloppy strokes of color. I suppressed a giggle thinking how foolish he’d look trying to fight a dragon. The oddest thing about the King was that he was talking, as if to someone, but no one was listening or answering back. “Mike, we’ve gone through this before.” The King said to no one. “When the server goes down like that you have to reset the-. No, I can’t come out and show you! Lis and I are going to a Halloween party tonight. We’re already running late. What do you mean you can’t find the button? It’s labeled. Fine. You call Jim and see if he can come out. Goodnight.” With a heavy sigh the King pulled something away from his head, snapped it in half and stuffed it intothe fold of his pants. “What’s she going on about?” He asked the witch. She shook her head and smiled. “Nothing.” The little girl stomped her feet defiantly. “Not nothing! A fairy kicked me. It’s hiding in my room right now.” “Maybe you could bait her out with pizza!” The King suggested with a laugh. The little boy on the other side of the room started cheering. He’d been sitting quietly when I’d entered, staring fixedly at a large square box on a table. Most of the noise was coming from there. Little moving pictures moved along the surface, followed by loud pops and cracks and a series of ratatat-tats. More witch magic no doubt. “Brian, come get this money for the pizza, will you?” The King called out, pulling a wad of green from his pocket. They looked just like the square leaves from the tree Queen White had hung our cage from! “Can we get breadsticks too?” The boy asked. “What, you think this stuff grows on trees?” The King replied while handing him another leaf. “Oh, but they do!” I thought. “Don’t play video games all night, OK? Behave for Kanchana.” The boy groaned as he went back to the box. “But Dad, my troop just killed another sniper! It’s going to take me at least an hour to attack the base.” I stared at the box a little harder. The picture was no longer moving, suspended in its animation. It was easier to see what the boy had been looking at. There were miniature people in there, all holding rods of some sort. I recognized the objects as what had been described to me back home. They were the same things that had been appearing mysteriously all around my world. Could it be another portal home? Just then a bell rang. I covered my ears as the sound bounced off the walls and something howled in the distance. It sounded like a wolf, only smaller. The witch made a move for the door. I debated whether I should attempt to fly out. But the risk of being seen was too great. The door opened halfway and the witch smiled at what was on the other side. “Thank you again for doing this on such short notice,” she said as Kanchana entered. My friend looked completely unchanged, save for her missing crown. I almost cried with relief. She wore the same brightly colored dress with its intricate designs and patterns. Her black hair was down, a curtain around her tan face and large brown eyes. I recognized her birthmark, a crimson mote on the space between her eyebrows. There was no mistaking her unique beauty. “Kanchana!” The little girl cried, lunging at my friend with open arms. “There’s a fairy in my room.” “There is?” I waited for a flicker of recognition. It wasn’t hope I clung to, but faith. How could she not remember me? “I’ve never seen a fairy!” She exclaimed. “Do you think it would like to make friends?” I lowered my head in defeat. Either this person was an imposter, or the place we were in had corrupted her memory. I suddenly felt very alone and scared.