Chapter 1

  ~“Counterpoint. I pay for everything so, if I don’t get a snack, nobody gets a snack”~

  The cool of stainless steel kissed her skin as Gracie rested her forehead against the elevator door. Counting each beep, her eyes flicked open as the counter dinged on her floor. She squeezed through the gap as the doors started to creak open.

  Running her hand along the wall, Gracie slowly made her way down the hall. Her head was throbbing and there was nothing she desired more than an ice pack and a shower.

  She felt her key snap in the latch as she unlocked the door. This wasn't all that surprising, it had been that sort of day.

  "Frickin-" she grit her teeth and gave the door a savage shove. There was a crack, and Gracie stumbled forward as the door swung open.

  After retrieving a cold pack from the freezer, Gracie left a trail of clothes in her wake as she made her way to the shower. She sighed as steaming water streemed down her back and she ran fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp while holding the cold pack to her forehead.

  She closed her eyes, only opening them when she heard a SLAM! from the foyer. “I’M HOOOOOME!” a young voice announced. "MOOOM? I THINK I BROKE THE DOOOOR!??”

  “Mindas! I'm in the shower!” she called back, wincing as her headache flared. A minute later the bathroom door cracked open.

  “I think I'm started puberty," Midas whispered through the narrow gap, "because I don't know my own strength. Oh also, I got a B- in magic systems, too.”

  “Progress!” Gracie replied. “Slap it on the fridge, ok?"'

  “Ok! Can I have kettle-corn?”

  “May I?” Gracie coaxed.

  “May I have kettle-corn?” Midas followed.

  “You may.”

  “Yesssss! Love you!” There was a pause, “and not just because of the kettle-corn!”

  “Love you too!" she called back. “At least he’s becoming more self-aware...”

  After her shower, Gracie greatly desired to just collapse onto her bed, but there were duties to fulfill before she could give herself over to sweet, sweet oblivion.

  What did I plan for dinner? Her eyes glazed over as she staered into the refrigerator. “...I need to write things down more.” She muttered as she shut the door and migrated to the pantry. “We can’t just eat out again...” She muttered, glancing into cupboards that contained ingredients, but not much in the way of food.

  "I mean, we caaaan...Mmm... maybe toasted cheese...?” she mumbled. Toasted cheese would definitely be simple, she just needed bread, butter, and shredded cheese... and tomato soup or apple sauce... which they did not have. She snapped her fingers. "Baked potatoes."

  Gracie's eye caught the report card Midas had obediantly stuck on the fridge. Cs and Bs, with a few Ds mixed in... Mostly Cs. She noted. Which means he's not really absorbing the material... We should go over his homework at some point...

  “Midas?” she called.

  “Yeah?” came his reply from the frontroom.

  “Do you have any homework today?”

  “Nope! Nothing right after Testing Days.”

  “Ok, well, next time you get homework let me know, we’ll go over it together.”

  “Oh...okaaay...I guess...”

  Right, time to stab something. Gracie decided, fishing in the silverware drawer for a sufficiently sturdy fork.

  “Could you cut this for me?” Midas asked, dropping his knife in frustration.

  “I cooould... if you said the magic words.” Gracie replied.

  “I uh, don’t remember them...”

  “Say please, Midas.”

  “Oh! I thought there were actual magic—could you please cut this for me?” he asked. Gracie leaned over and cut the baked potato.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You are welcome, Son.”

  Gracie was just about done brewing tea when she noticed a tangle of blond curly hair peeking over the counter, accompanied by an adorable round nose. “Do you want some?” The mass of hair nodded. “It’s ginger.” she warned. The head nodded again. “Oookaaay.”

  Midas shuffled over in his geometric shape printed pajamas and she poured him a bit using a cappuccino cup, stirring in a teaspoon of honey. “Careful, it’s hot! And super strong.” she warned. The curly mass of hair bobbed again. She eyed her progeny, sliding the cup and saucer over to him.

  The spit take was not unexpected, even with the honey. Gracie rubbed his back as Midas clawed at his tongue, “A worthy attempt, I suppose.” she consoled, wiping ginger tea from her face and running her glasses under the faucet.

  “That was the worst!”

  Gracie shrugged, drying her hands on a towel. “You asked for it.”

  “Can I have chocolate milk instead?”

  “Did you get an A?”

  “... Does, um, lunchtime count?” he asked.

  Gracie pursed her lips. “I'm pretty sure you don’t get graded for lunchtime.”

  “If I were, I would totally get an A.” he assured her.

  “Setting aside the fact that we're now entering hypothetical territory which doesn't actually help your case... How do you figure?”

  “I ate my veggietales.” he told her, puffing up his chest.

  “...Do you mean your vegetables?”

  “Nope! It’s more fun if I imagine them like in they're the cartoon characters.”

  “You mean you prefer to eat your food alive?”

  “Yup!” Midas nodded his head.

  "That’s..." I’m not sure how to address this... “Not very nice.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “I’m like a herbivore dinosaur preying on prime-ordeal vegetable people!” Midas explained, baring his teeth, presumably to show her his excellent vegetable murdering chompers.

  Gracie massaged her temples. “Even if you’re a dinosaur, it’s still not nice. Please, don’t pretend to eat people alive. Or at all, actually. It definitely wouldn't get you an A in Lunch, so,” Gracie laid down her verdict. “No chocolate milk for you until you mend your murdering herbivore ways.”

  “Dangit Mom!” Midas cried, throwing up his hands, the crossing the and glowering. “I need to be less honest!” Not the lesson we should be learning here. She thought but chose to ignore the comment. It probably makes me a bad parent... “You may, however, have normal milk, or seltzer water.” she conceded.

  He perked up. “Strawberry Seltzer?” Gracie gave him a thumbs up as she stirred a generous dollop of honey into her tea.

  Midas gave her a quick hug and sprinted over to the refrigerator. The appliance was barely two meters away, but he still managed to almost slip on his pajamas.

  He’ll grow up far too quickly. Gracie thought as she took a sip. "URK!" She sprayed tea all over the island counter. “What the hell? How old is this ginger?!” she snapped, holding up the loose leaf tin. “500 years, yeeesh.” Gracie shook her head as she added more honey. “I’m basically having tea with my honey!”

  “You’ll get fat eating so much honey.” Midas informed her as he slip his cup of seltzer onto the countertl top and scaled the other high chair.

  Gracie narrowed her eyes. “That’s rude.” she poked her son. “I don’t remember raising such a rude boy.”

  Midas held his palms up in helpless appeal. “Mom, look, I’m just stating the facts.”

  “Facts, huh?" Gracie repeated flatly, tapping her mug. "Interesting. It sounds like you really enjoy stating The facts.” She watched as Midas paused mid-nod, then seemed to rethink as he caught her guileless gaze. “Uh-oh. Uhmmm, you know, that depends, I guess. Facts can uh, be overrated sometimes?" He twiddled his thumbs. "Or even be not right or mis-constructed...”

  “I believe the word you are looking for is misconstrued.”

  “Yeah, that.” Midas nodded vigorously, taking a sip from his strawberry seltzer, the cup rattled as he set it back down.

  “So, when you say that I’ll get fat because I’m adding extra honey...?”

  “I think you might be...misconstruing what I said.” Midas continued, licking his lips. “Ya-see, er, you might get fat...” Midas pointed at the honey jar. “Probably not, though. You do a lot of... p-pushups? I hear that totally counteracts fat...ness.”

  Gracie sighed, leaning over. “You were doing so well.” she said, giving him a noogie. “Finish your seltzer, then it’s bedtime.”

  “Can we watch The Sheep Bandit?”

  “Again?”

  “A new episode came out!” he enthused.

  “Mmm...” Gracie said, sipping her ginger flavored honey. She debated whether she felt up to watching the cartoon. The migraine was still circling, like a shark.

  “I love you no matter what, and you’re super-skinny and, uh, strong!”

  Gracies lips twitched as her son flexed a twig-like bicep. “You could probably knock out a minotaur...” he continued.

  Gracie snorted. She took another sip then slip her cup away. “Oh, alright, but get ready for bed first!”

  “K!” he called over his shoulder as he scampered to the bathroom.

  The Sheep Bandit was hunting wolves in this episode, with bear and lasso traps. Also, oddly enough, a remote-controlled semi-automatic ballista they had somehow rigged on a nearby mountaintop. The wolves were portrayed as massive, brutish, cunning creatures that tended to slip out of the traps and were in the end, only put down by the ballista. The last one at point blank range.

  “I would have used magic.” Midas critiqued the Sheep Bandit’s tactics. “The Wiley Wolf Gang would have been toast with the right inferno or full-Min-Nation spell.”

  “Oh? You don’t think the wolves would have scented their charge?” Gracie asked.

  “I’d hide it with a stink bomb or something.”

  “Hmmm...”

  “Sheep Bandit should never have let them get so close to their ballista.”

  “When's the next episode?” Gracie asked.

  Midas let out a long sigh. “Next month!” he lamented, throwing up his hands and running them through his curly hair.

  “Enough time to let them know through fan mail, then.” Gracie pointed out.

  “...I gueeess...”

  “...Well!” Gracie slapped her knees and sat up. “That’s done! Bedtime Baby-bird!”

  “Uuuuuuuugh! Fiiine, im notna baby though!” Midas complained, groaning as he slipped off the couch.

  “Hey, hold up,” Gracie held her arms wide. “Come’ere.” Midas rolled his eyes but obeyed, walking into her embrace. Gracie kissed him on the head. “I love you, my child.”

  “I’m not a child, ya’know.” he grumbled.

  "But you are, and not just any child," Gracie explained, nuzzling his head, "you're my child." She held Midas captive until he eventually mumbled “...love you, too.”

  “There we go.” Gracie grinned, releasing him. “Sleep well, Midas.”

  “Uh-huh, you too, Mom.”

  Gracie watched as he wandered to his room, then returned to the kitchen and dumped the rest of her ginger tea down the sink. She sighed. “Now I need to buy more tea.”

  That night Gracie dreamed.

  The moon was shattered like a porcelain plate. The shards drifted in space, just barely caught in Limbo’s gravity, they hung over the barren planet like giant swords of doom, awaiting a shift in cause and effect to plummet down to Limbo.

  Gracie stared up into the sky filled with danger and basked in the light of the shattered moon. “At long last.” she murmured, a faint smile growing into a full-blown grin. There was something off, though. She squinted, then felt at her face. “Where are my glasses?”

  Gracie jumped and found that Limbo’s gravity only touched her lightly. She began her search by vaulting from valley to mountaintop searching for her glasses but she couldn’t find them anywhere. She jumped into the sky, checking the clouds, then into space, at last, she touched down on the remains of the moon. She realized then that they had been on her head the entire time, nestled in her tangled curls.

  “That was stupid.” She told the dragon corpse drifting in the void as she polished her lenses on her pajama top.

  “I don’t know what you have against dragons,” her warp sword said. “Violence never solved anything, you know.”

  “They need to learn to respect their elders.” She informed it.

  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Grace snapped, tossing the sword from the moon down to the planet below. “It’s not even a real dragon, just some dungeon’s meat puppet.” she called down.

  “Wow, your dreams are pretty morbid, huh?” a voice called from the void.

  “Who said that?!”

  “Just a poor, wayfaring stranger.”

  Gracie summoned her sword back to her hand. How? Using magic, duh.

  “You should learn to mind your own business, stranger.” Gracie warned.

  “Ok, ok. I know when I’m unwanted. But, um, you should check your glasses.”

  “Huh?” Gracie pulled her glasses from her face, examining them. “They’re all scratched up!... wait…” she squinted. “What in the world?” Squinting, she found that they weren’t actually scratched, but covered in teenie-tiny webs, made by teenie-tiny wyrms.

  The creatures squirmed along their webs, spreading their disgusting silk threads. Gracie slammed her glasses down onto the broken moon’s surface.

  “Curse you meddling wyrms!” Gracie shouted, lurching forward in bed. She stared into the familiar darkness of her room, feeling cold and damp. She shivered “...What...The actual Fuck...”

  “Mooom?” Gracie heard a drowsy voice call from the hallway. She rubbed her face and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  “What’s up, Baby-bird?” she asked.

  “I’m not a baby... and you said a bad word.” Midas accused.

  Gracie licked her chapped lips. “...That’s how you banish bad dreams.”

  "Oh. Fu-"

  “-but it only works for grown-ups.” Gracie added hastily.

  “...Ok...?” Midas looked a bit lost as he wandered through her doorway.

  “Kids have to use...uhm... midnight snacks.” Swearing also works for kids but I’m not about to tell you that.

  “...Oh! You know, I think I just had a bad dream...” Midas confided.

  Well done, Gracie, she congratulated herself, you’ve successfully diverted your son from his mom’s deception. Great job. A+ mothering... “We should probably take care of that, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.” Midas nodded. “But you don’t get any," he said, giving her a poke as she slid out of bed. "Since you get swears.”

  “Sorry, I’m a kid at heart, so I get the best of both worlds.” Grace informed him as she took his hand.

  “That’s not fair.” Midas grumbled.

  “Life’s not fair.” Gracie automatically replied.

  “But we can make it more fair.” he argued.

  “Counterpoint. I pay for everything, and if I don’t get a snack, nobody gets a snack.” Gracie pulled her trap card as she slipped on her slippers, “and I’m thinking… Rocky-Road.”

  “...Oh. Well I guess we don’t have to make life more fair tonight.” her son conceded, being a practical child.