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by Robbie Fischer Contest winner: i6uuaq Spanky’s tale continued… “Ilona’s stunner spell had no effect on Iulianescu, except that he shivered, and a frown passed briefly over his boyish face. ‘How interesting,’ he said,...

The silence that awaited the end of Merlin’s story was so complete, it hardly seemed that anyone could be breathing. It didn’t last long. After squeezing Endora’s hand and taking a sip of firewhisky, Merlin carried on:

When Harvey arrived at his greenhouse, Dr. Miles O’Roughage clasped his hand in both of his own, beaming with pleasure. Harvey noted that O’Roughage was wearing filthy, floral-patterned gardening gloves, as he waved round at his vast kingdom of shrub, tree, and vine.

A shout from nearby – a screech of cart wheels – then a party of goblins arrived at the point where Joe and Rigel stood. “What happened to the others?” barked a particularly gnarly goblin.

“What was that name again?” asked the goblin behind the teller’s window.

“Dr. Duane Mossy,” said Slavik, in a nearly perfect approximation of an American accent. He twitched his fake mustache and adjusted his fake eyeglasses.

“Where did you get this?” Merlin asked, turning the amulet over in his hands. It was hard, smooth, and heavy like a lump of crystal, but its surface swam and swirled with colors, like quicksilver. It was large as Rigel’s ten-year-old fist, shaped like an egg, but flattened on one side.

““After I fought off all the grindylows,” Sadie went on with her tale, “I swam further upstream with my powerful, tireless stroke. I had to squeeze through a tight gap in a network of curses strung across the fjord. Then, wearing dragon-hide gloves to protect my skin from the hallucinogenic algae, I pushed myself along…”

Actually, what happened was this: