“Ugh,” Clara groaned, her eyes almost as sharp as the dagger currently twirling through her hands.  “I can’t believe we’re bringing this guy.”

Maria glared at the female rogue, although she could sympathize a bit with the complaint.  Clara was tough to get along with, her personality almost as pointy as the dozen or so blades secreted about her person.  But even for Maria, the man was quickly wearing thin.

“We need a wizard,” she brought up, for what felt like the millionth time.  Her white cleric’s staff was shifting a little as it leaned against the tree beside her, so she brought it down to prod at the fire.  “And he’s the only one in town.  We’re lucky to have him.”  The words even rang true to her.

But what else could they do?  It was true – they needed a wizard.  The eight-legged corpse that the damn man was currently squatting upon was proof of that…

Maria shivered at the thought of their most recent encounter.  A Sepulchral Assassin!  She thought that they were little more than legends, the last few of them surely confined to their broodhives!  But this one had come crawling out of the darkness, head reared, claws flashing, its eight legs flying over the ground.  Charging at them out of the darkness.

Maria’s healing spells were useless against the Assassin.  Three of Clara’s knives sank hilt-deep into the monster’s carapace without visible impact.  The beast was almost upon them, rearing to strike-

-and then it was engulfed in wizard’s flame.

The Assassin had collapsed a moment later, keening noises coming from the burning heap as its sealed shell burst open under the onslaught of heat.  The wizard had saved their lives.

But still, Maria thought to herself as she looked at the man, there was something not quite… right… about him.

Perhaps it was his hat, pointy and foppish and leaning off to one side like a fool’s cap.  Or maybe it was his lumpy and doughy physique – he clearly relied more on his mystical arts than on his physical prowess.  He had become winded after less than an hour of hiking, and Maria feared for the rest of their journey.

But the aspect of the wizard probably putting her most on edge was his drink.

The man had summoned it up as soon as they made camp.  “Need it, ‘s for my powers,” he had mumbled to the pair of women as he hastily gulped it down.  “Full uh’ magic bits ‘n stuff.”

Maria felt zero inclination to try any of the drink.  It was as thick as paste, contained strange lumps, and it glowed.  Not a good combination in a drink.  But the wizard seemed to enjoy it, squatting atop the burnt carcass of his kill.

Trying to think of more ways to reassure her companion, Maria opened her mouth, but her words were cut off by a horking noise.  Slowly, as if fearing what they would find, both of the women turned to their companion.

The wizard’s cheeks were bulging and his face was flushed.  With a mixture of annoyance and pity, Maria watched as he coughed up a large chunk of his glowing drink, spitting it back down into his cup.  “Drank too fast, ‘uh guess,” he managed to get out between wheezes.

Maria could see Clara rolling her eyes beneath her hood.  “He is not sleeping in our tent tonight,” she muttered.

I had just settled down on the couch, a copy of my favorite pulp novel on my lap, when I heard Charming come in.  I rolled my eyes, putting the novel aside.  No reading for me, it seemed.

How could I not hear the man come in?  He insisted on riding that damn white stallion everywhere, and its hooves always left dirty tracks over the marble floors of our palace.  Sure, we now had servants for mopping all of that mess up, but I still felt bad for them.

A second later, the Prince himself came sweeping into our room, his sword rattling in his scabbard, his boots clicking across the floor, and his hair probably perfectly in place.

You know, I suggested some carpets?  “They might brighten up this place, make it warmer,” I had said.  I hadn’t added that they’d also muffle the Prince’s imperious striding everywhere.  He wore spurs on those boots, you know that?  Click, click, click.  Drove me nuts.

A second later, arms swept around me, and I felt the man kiss at my neck.  Okay, he wasn’t all bad.  He had some good points.  That made me feel even more guilty.

After giving me a little kiss on my neck, Charming straightened back up.  “Hello, my dearest!” he boomed out.  “What are your plans for the day?”

I held up the novel that had been sitting on my lap.  “Well, I’d been thinking about relaxing, making some progress on this latest book,” I said.  “You know, take it easy?”

“Take it easy?”  I saw the Prince’s brow furrow.  “But darling, the Royal Gardens need tending!  And the ponies in the Royal Stables could really use a trot around, maybe a combing of their manes?  And of course, the tailors would love to model their next series of dresses on your designs, if you want to go explain your process to them?”

Ugh!  So much to do.  You know, I thought that when I was whisked away, off into the lap of luxury, that I’d be done with all these obligations.  But now I felt like I was right back at home.  ‘Scrub the floors, Cinderella!’  ‘Design more dresses, Cinderella!’ ‘Clean the chimney, Cinderella!’ ‘Weed the gardens, Cinderella!’  ‘Cook our food, Cinderella!’ ‘Frost these cakes, Cinderella!’  It never stopped!

I stood up, spinning around to glare at Charming.  I could feel the words on the tip of my tongue, about to come spilling out.  “You know what, Prince?  This wasn’t what I wished for!  I didn’t wish for you!  I just wanted a night when I wouldn’t have to work any more!”

The words were right there.  But I knew the damage they would cause.  And this man wasn’t to blame.  It was true, my life was much better than it had been before.  I ought to acknowledge that.

So instead, I plastered a smile across my face.  “All good suggestions, dear,” I told the tall and strong man instead.  “I will consider them all and decide on the best.”

The man’s broad face spread into a happy smile.  “Wonderful, my princess!” he called out, as he swept away, probably off to go hunt with dogs or with hawks or do some other princely thing.

After he had vanished, I sighed, lowering down my book.  I wasn’t going to get to read today.

When I had made that wish to my fairy godmother, I had asked for her to “take me away from all of this.”  Sure, she’d done it – in astounding style, hooking me up with the kingdom’s prince.

But really, I would have settled for just a night off where I could laze around and do absolutely nothing…

I peered down at the experiment.  The globe was hanging in the air, and covered in activity.  I pulled my pencil out of my clipboard.

“God,” I noted in the name.  “And your project’s name?” I asked.

“Earth,” the young man replied.

I filled in the name on the form.  “Okay then,” I told the young man.  “Tell me about your project.”

The man (really, the adolescent was little more than a boy) glanced down at his shoes, and then turned to his project.  “Well, it’s a biosystem,” he began.  “Been running for about six billion years, now.”

I raised my eyebrows at him.  “Accelerated, of course,” he added hurriedly.

I bent down to peer at the biosphere.  “It looks quite inhabited,” I observed.

The young man nodded.  “Yep – dominant species appeared about ten thousand years ago,” he said.  “They’ve already spread across the entire sphere.”

I picked up the magnifying glass and peered through it.  “They look like they’re being pretty hard on the environment.”

God shrugged at this.  “They’ll adapt,” he said.

I waited as the globe turned to examine the far side.  “Looks like a fight’s broken out here,” I said, peering at one region.  “Not sure why.  Mostly desert.”

“They’ve been fighting over that part for a long time,” God volunteered.  “They originated there, so I guess it’s special.”

“Doesn’t look very evolved to me.”

“They’re evolved in other ways!” the boy protested, trying to win back points.  “They’ve tamed their environment, and are even building devices to ease their labor!”

Sure enough, that was worth bonus points on the grading form.  “Any issues in producing them?” I asked.

He shrugged.  “At one point, the evolution seemed stuck on lizards.  I had to do a soft reset.”

The man was volunteering this information, but my keen eye had already spotted the evidence of the reset on the cross-section.  “Supervolcano?” I asked.

“Combined with a meteor strike.”

It was at least not directly violating the rules.  I referred back to my form once again.  “Any other direct influence?”

No answer was immediately forthcoming.  I looked up at the young man and saw an uncomfortable expression on his face.  “Any influence?” I repeated, glaring at him.

He wilted beneath my glare.  “Well, I tried to put them on the right track about two thousand years ago.  Sent down an aspect, told them to be friendly, all of that.”

“Didn’t quite take,” I noted.

He shook his head.  “Yeah, I learned my error there.  Not going to try that again next year.”

I checked the appropriate box.  “So, not planning on continuing this?”

“Nah.  Now that I’ve learned some of my mistakes, it might be easier to just cleanse the whole thing and try again. I should have fewer screw-ups next time.”

The form was just about complete.  “Well, just be sure to make sure to sterilize,” I commented as I signed the bottom.  “Don’t want anything getting out and spreading.”

The boy looked hopeful as I moved on to the next experiment, but he probably wouldn’t take home a medal this year.  The next experiment looked more promising, however.  There was a large thing with tentacles, visible even without magnification, rampaging across this biosphere.   That looked novel.

No matter how much we tried to explain the idea, the personified concept wasn’t quite getting it.

“No, the point is that it’s a scary story!  See, the hook on the car door means that the hook-handed killer was there all along!”

YES, BUT THE GIRL DOES NOT DIE.  WOULD THE STORY NOT BE SCARIER IF THEY ALL DIED?

“But then there’d be no one left to tell the story!”

HERE, HOW ABOUT THIS.  A THOUSAND PEOPLE DIE EACH DAY FROM BEING HIT BY TRAINS.

“Well, I guess that’s kind of depressing, but I don’t know if it’s really scary…”

I STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND.  THIS IS A THING?  SITTING AROUND BURNING BRANCHES AND ATTEMPTING TO INDUCE FEAR?

“Yeah, it’s called camping!  We’re out experiencing nature!”

SO WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THE FEAR TALES?

“No, man.  Scary stories.  Not ‘fear tales.’  And I guess it’s because we’re out here in the darkness, not knowing what’s out there – so telling scary stories that aren’t true makes us feel better in comparison to what’s really there.”

BUT THERE ARE MANY THINGS HERE THAT CAN KILL YOU TOO.  FOREST FIRES.  BEARS.  MALARIA.

“Well, yeah, but those aren’t as bad as the stories we tell!  See?”

I DO NOT SEE, IT IS VERY DARK.  IT IS BETTER TO BE MAULED BY A BEAR THAN STABBED BY A MAN WITH A HOOK ON HIS HAND?  YOU ARE DEAD IN BOTH CASES.

“Ugh.  Look, I can’t explain this.  Do you have a story or are we going to skip you?”

YES, I WANT TO TRY.

“Okay.  Let’s hear the scariest thing you’ve got.”

ONE DAY, ALL OF THE ENERGY IN THE UNIVERSE WILL BE EQUALLY DISTRIBUTED AND THERE WILL BE NO MORE MOVEMENT.  ALL WILL BE STILL AND DISTURBED ONLY BY BROWNIAN PERTURBATIONS.

“Dude, that’s not scary!”

“Well, it kind of is.  More depressing, I guess…”

“But we won’t be around for it!  So it isn’t scary.”

AH.  IT MUST PERTAIN TO YOU SPECIFICALLY?  YOU HAVE FOUGHT A MAN WITH A HOOK FOR A HAND?

“No!  But we could, you know?  We won’t live to see the heat death of the universe.”

OKAY, OKAY.  LET ME TRY AGAIN.

“You would have thought that the personification of death itself would be better at scary stories, man.”

“Dude, shut it.  At least he’s killing all the mosquitoes.”

OKAY, HOW ABOUT THIS.  JACK THE RIPPER!

“What about him?”

HE USED TO KILL MANY PROSTITUTES.  OFTEN VERY VIOLENTLY.

“Well, you can’t just say that!  You have to make it into a story!  Like, maybe the ghost of Jack the Ripper haunts these woods, and he kills any woman who enters the woods and isn’t a virgin because he believes her to be a whore…”

BUT THERE ARE NO GHOSTS.  AFTER ME, THERE IS NOTHING.

“Now, that’s scary.”

IS IT?

“Yes, but not in the right way, man!  Look, you have to tell a story!  Give us a, what’s the word?”

“Narrative.”

“Yeah, one of those!  Make it personal!”

I AM NOT A PERSON.  I AM AN INFINITE CONCEPT, TEMPORARILY INTERSECTING THIS PLANE IN AN ASSUMED SHAPE TO INTERACT WITH YOU.

“Well, we can’t relate to that.  So it doesn’t work for telling scary stories.”

“Look, the marshmallows are almost gone.  Maybe we should just turn in for the night.”

NO, NO, GIVE ME ONE MORE TRY.

“Ugh.  Fine.  Last one, though!”

OKAY.  THE NATIVE AMERICAN TRIBE THAT ONCE LIVED IN THIS GEOGRAPHICAL AREA USED TO REQUIRE THAT ITS BRAVES GO OUT INTO THE WOODS FOR A SPIRITUAL JOURNEY IN ORDER TO BECOME TRUE MEN.

“Okay, good start so far!”

THESE BRAVES WOULD INDULGE IN A VARIETY OF HALLUCINOGENS TO AID IN VIEWING THEIR SPIRITS.  SOME EVEN INTERACTED WITH ME, WHICH WAS UNUSUAL.  BUT ONE BRAVE, VERY CONFUSED, FELL DOWN A HILL AND BROKE HIS LEG WHEN HE HIT A ROCK.

“Ugh.  In the woods?  That would suck.”

“Shut up, dude!  Let Death keep on telling his story.”

AFTER THREE DAYS, WHEN THE BRAVE HAD NOT RETURNED, THE REST OF THE TRIBE SENT OUT THE BEST TRACKERS IN THEIR GROUP.  ONE OF THESE WAS THE BRAVE’S OLDER BROTHER.  THE OLDER BROTHER QUICKLY FOUND HIS YOUNGER BROTHER’S TRACKS AND FOLLOWED THEM TO THE RAVINE.

UNFORTUNATELY, IN THE MIST RISING UP FROM THE RAVINE, THE YOUNGER BRAVE SAW NOTHING BUT A SHADOW LOOMING IN THE MIST.  HE GRABBED HIS SPEAR AND ATTACKED.  IT WAS NOT UNTIL HIS BROTHER WAS SLAIN THAT HE REALIZED WHAT HE HAD DONE.

“Oh god, that’s chilling.”

YES, THE COLD ONLY ADDED TO HIS CONFUSION.  THE BRAVE’S MENTAL STATE WAS FURTHER DETERIORATED BY THE REALIZATION OF WHAT HE HAD JUST DONE.  HE STRAPPED HIS LEG AND MOVED THROUGH THE FOREST, KILLING EVERY OTHER TRACKER HE CAME ACROSS.  HE THOUGHT THEM TO BE MALEVOLENT SPIRITS PURSUING HIM.

“Oh man, this is good.”

“Yeah, keep going!”

DESPITE HIS DELIRIUM, THE BRAVE EVENTUALLY RETURNED TO THE REST OF THE TRIBE.  HE CHARGED OUT OF THE WOODS, HIS BLOODY SPEAR HELD ALOFT AS HE HOWLED.  IT WAS NIGHT, AND WITH THE WARRIORS OUT SEARCHING THE FOREST, THERE WAS LITTLE RESISTANCE.  HE KILLED MANY OF THE TRIBE’S WOMEN AND CHILDREN BEFORE HE WAS FINALLY SLAIN.

“Holy shit, man.  That would be so scary!  A crazy Indian just charging out of the woods at us…”

“Native American, dude.  It’s more PC.”

“Screw PC, this is a scary story!  Is there more?”

YES.  THE ELDERS OF THE TRIBE BELIEVED THIS TO BE A TERRIBLE OMEN, A SIGN THAT THEY WERE CURSED.  THEY PREPARED A POISONOUS DRAUGHT FOR THE REMAINING MEMBERS OF THE TRIBE, SO THAT THEY MIGHT JOIN THEIR GODS.  THEY ALL CONSUMED THE DRAUGHT AND DIED.

EVENTUALLY, THE BRAVES THAT HAD BEEN SEARCHING IN THE WOODS AND HAD EVADED THEIR CRAZY TRIBE MEMBER RETURNED.  THEY FOUND THE REST OF THEIR TRIBE DEAD, SOME SLAIN BY SPEAR, OTHERS BY POISON.

“Now that would drive me crazy.”

“Sssh.  Keep going!”

THERE IS LITTLE ELSE TO TELL.  THE LAST BRAVES WERE LOST AND WITHOUT GUIDANCE.  THEY HID IN THE WOODS, LIVING SOLITARY AND CONFUSED LIVES UNTIL THEY DIED AS WELL.

“Geez.  A whole Indian tribe, all wiped out.”

IT WAS A SCARY STORY?

“Hell yeah, dude!  God, it’s gonna be hard to fall asleep tonight.”

ALL OF THE BRAVES ARE LONG SINCE DEAD.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point.  Just imagine a crazy Indian running out of the woods at us.”

“Native American.”

“Shut up.”

“Look, it was a good story, and the fire is dying down.  We should probably turn in.”

AH YES, YOU HUMANS AND YOUR SLEEP.  DO NOT WORRY.  I HAVE KILLED THE BEAR THAT WAS IN THE AREA ALREADY.

“Wait, what?  There was a bear?”

YES, HE WAS CIRCLING THE CAMP.  I STOPPED HIS HEART, AS HE WOULD HAVE INTERRUPTED MY STORY.

“Holy shit, Death.  You should have just said that!”

BUT HE HAS NOT KILLED ANYONE.  IS HE SCARY?

“Ugh.  Look, I’ll try and explain this more in the morning.”

GOOD NIGHT, MORTALS.

“Night, Death.”

“Okay, lemme get this straight.”

“Yeah, go ahead.  Ask away.”

“We’re talking about dragons, right?  The same dragons?  Not, like, goats?  Or a horse that you’ve just decided to name “Dragon”?”

“No, I’m talking about dragons!  You had it right.”

“The big scaly things.  Lots of spikes, mouth full of teeth the size of my forearm, spits out fire, have a propensity for roasting knights and would-be slayers alive in their armor?  Sometimes carry off whole cattle to devour in their lairs?”

“Yeah, man, dragons.”

“And you want to ride one of those.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Are you insane?”

“No!  Come on, just think of how awesome that would be!  Soaring up through the clouds, flying, on the back of a massive dragon!”

“Until that massive dragon gets hungry and decides that you’ll make a nice snack!  Or it gets tired of you wanting to steer it or control it and it decides to drop you – a thousand feet in the air!”

“See, that’s the difference between us.  I’m an optimist.  I think things will work.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a realist!  And I say that you’re throwing your life away.”

“Oh, wait.  I see what your problem is.”

“What?”

“You’re chicken.“

“What??  I’m not chicken!  Not wanting to die doesn’t make me a chicken!”

“You’re just too scared to ride a dragon.  A real man would man up and do it!”

“No, a real man would wait until the thing’s asleep, sneak up on it, and stick a sword through its throat!  That’s what real men do!”

“Nah, didn’t you hear?  Lady Jacobene killed a dragon last week.  In single combat, no less.  We gotta do something more extreme, something more manly.”

“Dude, I give up.  You’re insane.”

“Just you wait.  When I’m riding a dragon, I’ll be sure to dive-bomb your cottage first.  Real men ride dragons.”

“Idiot.”

“Fraidy-cat.”