In the Tree Café on the corner of Milbory and Townsend, I curl into the roots of my favorite tree. Barnabus always tends his grove with utmost care and his trees love him all the more for it. They sigh with pleasure when he walks into the room and practically sing when he strokes their leaves. The peace they feel in his presence could soothe any soul. Even mine -- no matter how temporarily.

Em walks in and stomps his way to the bar with clacking heels and I feel the roots I'm nesting in tense. The trees' fear is palpable.

I look back at the counter where the knight sneers and taps his broad chest. Unfortunately instead of helping the poor creature behind the counter to magically know who Em is, the creature looked even more perplexed. He towers over Em, but manages to cower as though he's ashamed of not knowing who the pompous Litswig is by appearance only.

The slap of Em's hand on the counter resounds throughout the grove and every person in the café, god, creature, or enlightened human alike, looks ready to pounce.

Ok, that's enough. If I'm protective of anyone, it's the gentle giants of this world. Of course, I can't show my face to the Litswig, but Barnabus isn't around to toss the knight out, so I'll have to get creative. I smile privately at a memory from the asylum -- Bibsie and Graneur had been in a tiff about their puzzle of all things. And what Graneur did to get back at Bibsie for eating the final piece should go down in history books.

—

A very naughty prank is pulled by our MC on the poor, unsuspecting, haughty, and handsome Litswig. He totally deserves it. Karma is after him, after all.

You can’t blame me for not sharing all the details, can you?! After all, I’m here, in the “naughty” section of this drop-down menu, just to tease you with a prank I don’t actually pull.

The old woman shivers on the cold stone. Why was she left here, anyway? Anyone can se that this tiny woman couldn't do a fly harm if she wanted to. I shrug to myself and try to quiet my mind. But she snuffles. Snuffles!

I look back at her to see the threadbare teddy she'd tried to share with me when I was drug in here this morning. Fine. Do it for the bear.

I whisper into the gloom, "Hey! Bibsie!" She shuffles around until the moonlight glints off her glasses -- it's earie how expressionless she is. "Come get warm over here. But bring Goliath so he can get warm, too."

Without any convincing or comment, she brings the teddy and snuggles into my side. Well, she may stink to high heaven, but at least neither of us will freeze tonight.

Please do not continue if crude language is in any way rude or offensive to you, or if you are below the age of 16.

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The troll slams her fist into my cheek—I scream and put a hand to my jaw. Something sounds like I just bit into a stale cracker. Tears prick at my eyes and I snarl "Nothing better than a ham-fisted butch." I lift a brow despite my aching head. "Care to fist something else?"

The look of disgust that twists the nurse's face leaves me feeling ten pounds lighter and much more pleased with myself than I was only five minutes ago. Five minutes ago, I was on my way outta here. Now I'm being beat down by a fat woman in an apron. Oh the fucking irony.

The stars in my eyes are distracting so I squint hard and push myself up. The woman's fists are white with rage and if her face gets any redder, she’ll start steaming. "You bitch!" She screams. Is that spit all over my face or is it raining inside?

"You troll!" I spit back and stand tall. Tits up, ladies!

I feel a smirk twist up one side of my face, even though the other side hangs slack. It's like using a red flag to tease a bull and ... oh, oh, here she comes.

Her head slams into my gut and I go flying back to the cobblestones and roll into the cement wall of the compound. The inner wall. I didn't even make it past the second gate.

The breath is knocked out of me so completely that the tears finally roll out of my eyes.

When the haze begins to clear, I rasp, "That fucking hurts!" and turn my head to see the troll gearing up for a kick to my head.

I clutch my gut and shift quickly to the right to avoid her foot. It slams into the wall behind me and wince at the crunching sound her foot makes—even though she totally deserves it. She roars in fury and I swear I see her drool.

The glare she turns on me actually makes my heart stutter.

Oops.

I yank my head to the side at the sound of rustling and slapping feet to see several orderlies rushing in from the gatehouse. At least the troll is stepping back.

A white-gloved fist rams into my face and the impact slams my head into the wall like a sledgehammer turning a brick into dust.

Escape attempt number 13. Unlucky number 13. Weeks of planning... down the drain with my last shred of hope.

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Thank you for joining our MC in her most recent attempt to escape the asylum she's been so mysteriously locked up in. Read more in the novel coming your way soon!

Consider helping me get it out to you sooner buy clicking the link below and buying me a coffee for my pain. <3

Bibs, or Bibsie, is our MC's new asylum bestie. She seems to have multiple personality disorder, but in reality, she can literally becomes multiples of herself and each one has a very unique personality. So the Bibsie we get is often confused, completely quirky, and accidentally amazing.

Pivotal creatures to my book, the Moirai, always have an agenda of their own. They are the fates and they rule a court full of creatures woven by their threads to fulfill fate's designs. Contrary to popular opinion, they are not our MC's creator/s. However, I can see how you might get that idea...

All the fantastical creatures in the mirror-realm have to stay in contact somehow, right? All those pesky cellphone towers get in the way of good ol' magic so we use something a bit more old-school. Talking statues. Be careful whose likeness you purchase next, you never know when someone's listening in...

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