“Well?” Mr. Waddlebug asked, impatiently tapping his foot as he stared at the mail shoot. Corey stood beside him, quill pen still in hand, his expression much more subdued. “What is taking so long? Shouldn’t we have heard back from her by now?”
“She’ll respond soon enough,” Corey assured him, finally sticking the pen back in the magic ink he had used to write the correspondence to Ms. Fizzlestitch. The mailroom was really something else. This is where all of the letters to Santa--whether through regular post-dispatch or the preferred, up the chimney, method came to be read, considered, and recommended for fulfillment or denial. It is also where Corey came to write his own letters whenever he needed to communicate with a potential recruit. There was a smorgasbord of inks to choose from in every color, as well as every thickness of writing apparatus imaginable. The paper was smooth, the envelopes regal, and Corey always felt impor
Serendipity had every intention of returning to her cottage and sending another letter to Mr. Cane as quickly as possible. However, once Maevis and Ms. Crotlybloom decided to take on the project of scrubbing years of filth and grime from her--her skin, her hair, her fingernails, between her toes, everywhere--her return had been quite delayed. It had taken both of the older women with brushes, combs, and eventually scissors, to work her hair into what could potentially be called “suitable” again. Her flesh was red and sore, not only from the warm water (which had been switched out three times) but also from the intense scrubbing.Once the torturous bath had been completed, she needed a few moments to collect herself before pulling her abused body out of the tub. Even the promise that Maevis would help her dress in a gown she had laid aside (it had been Serendipity’s mother’s at one time) and a new pair of boots, did not result in a hasty exit from the c
While Serendipity understood what Maevis was trying to tell her, she shook her head. Damp, white ringlets flipped water out of the tub as she did so, further wetting the wooden floor. How many times had she tried to explain herself to Maevis before? More than she could count. “I don’t have a choice, Maevis. It must be done.”“You do have a choice, love,” Maevis corrected her, placing her calloused hand on Serendipity’s arm just above her boney elbow where it rested on the side of the tub and giving it a squeeze.“You have a choice every day. Do you keep trying to do the impossible or give up and sell the lot of the parts and maybe the house, too? You could take the money and start all over again, someplace far away, if you truly wanted to.”“It’s not that simple,” Serendipity replied, resting her forehead on her arm near Maevis’s chilly hand and drawing in a deep breath. “I promised my f
Mr. Waddlebug had found a comfy chair in the corner of the room near the fireplace and was dozing, the honking sound of his snoring what one might expect from an old man with a bulbous nose, as Corey sat idly at the desk, absently twirling the feather of a quill in his fingers, waiting on a response from Ms. Fizzlestitch and pondering his own existence.It wasn’t a pleasant experience.He tended to push away the ideas that often popped into his head--why did he work so hard? What was he trying to prove? What did it matter if one new recruit didn’t show up? All of those questions often dwelling just below the surface until one finds himself in a quiet room, all alone save a snoring elf in the corner, and then it is difficult to push the contemplations aside.But Corey was very talented when it came to the ability to dodge the deeper questions, and he refused now to entertain any of the truly important thoughts that dare rise to the surface of his cons
“Well, hello there, Corey,” a jolly voice cried out, causing Corey to look up and meet two sparkling blue eyes.“How are you this fine day, my boy?”“Sir, it’s nice to see you,” Corey replied, offering his hand, unsure as to whether or not St. Nicholas had heard his mutterings. “I’m doing well, thank you. And yourself?”“Couldn’t be better,” he chuckled as he released Corey’s hand, thin and small in comparison to his own. “I’m very excited to hear that you were able to procure a replacement for the recently deceased Mrs. Meriwether. She served me well for over two hundred years, God rest her sweet soul.”“Yes, sir, we were all very sad to see her go,” Corey replied, a distraught look plastered on his face, his voice ringing with lamentation.St. Nicholas shook his head slowly from side to side, his great white beard rippling as he did so.
The Snow Queen’s fortress was high atop Mt. Menzelfrap, still within the protective dome put in place centuries ago when St. Nicholas first moved his operations to this secret location, but what could be several days walk through treacherous territory in inclement weather if one chose to travel by foot. Luckily, Corey had the ability to teleport himself magically and found himself standing outside her castle door only a few moments after ending his discussion with the man in charge.While he could have easily positioned himself within the fortress itself had he chosen to do so, he rarely made the decision to disturb others so abruptly, particularly in a situation where he was in need of some assistance, so with the bitterly cold wind whipping around, blowing the snow into his face and wreaking havoc on his carefully knotted scarf, Corey knocked on the nine-foot high silver encased ice door and waited for someone to let him inside.In reality only a few moments ha
Corey smiled at her, well aware that the purpose for his visit was known between both of them.At long last he said, “I’m calling it in.”Ingrid cleared her throat. “I thought as much. What do you need?”“Nothing too difficult,” Corey replied, turning on his heels and walking away a bit.“It’s something quite simple, actually,” he continued, still not facing her, using the tip of his boot to chip away at the ice floor. “In fact, I’m not sure it’s even worth a whole favor.”“You get one favor,” Ingrid reminded him, shifting in her chair.He turned back to face her then, still poking at the whole he had created. “Really, a small favor in exchange for convincing the entire council to change a human into a legendary being just so that he could spend eternity with you? Does that seem fair to you?”“Corey…”&ldqu
Maevis had been kind enough to write her response on her father’s stationary, find an envelope, seal it, and accompany her back to her cottage where she now alternated between standing next to the fireplace, pacing, and sitting agitatedly in the rocking chair, arms crossed as she let go the frequent “humph” or sigh.Once again, Maevis said calmly, “Serendipity, calm down.He’ll be here soon. He said it could be a couple of hours, and it hasn’t even been one yet.”Serendipity, who was currently sitting in the rocking chair, rocking furiously as her little friends did their best to keep their tales out of harm’s way, replied, “I know that. But, really, what in the world could be taking so long?”“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Maevis stated. She was sitting in the only other chair, the one near Serendipity's paints, and each time the opportunity presented itself, she would inconspicu
Serendipity listened carefully but did not blink. Finally, after several minutes of silence, she asked, “Would you want to come with me?”Maevis wrinkled her forehead in question. “To stay?”Serendipity nodded once sharply before adding, “Not that I’m even considering it.”Letting go of a deep sigh, Maevis replied, “I couldn’t child. Oh, I’d miss you something awful. And I’d want to visit, if that’s allowed. And I’d write you letters and hope that you could find a nice elf to write me back. But, no, I couldn’t go with you.”Cocking her head to one side, almost like a cat, Serendipity asked, “Why not?”Studying her interlaced fingers carefully, Maevis replied, “Well, I have things to do. I have… people who need me… friends… responsibilities.”Serendipity continued to stare at her without blinking.Maevis