Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
The sky was a pure, deep blue without any clouds but the weather was cool enough to make the golden sunshine a blessing rather than a hot, miserable curse like it was in Central Florida on a sunny day. There was hardly any humidity either—I was blessedly free of under-boob sweat, which is the bane of my existence.
All in all, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy to be outside. Living in Florida for so long, I was used to scurrying from one air-conditioned structure to another. Being caught out in the open meant feeling like I was slowly boiling in a pot of humidity soup. It wasn’t like that here in Hidden Hollow. Here, the weather was just perfect.
I hummed happily to myself as I walked along the deserted road. I didn’t see a single car, which was nice. I was just beginning to wonder if maybe I could get a bike—that would be a good, cheap way to get around—when the road curved and the town came abruptly into sight.
At first glance, Hidden Hollow seemed to be the quintessential picturesque New England small town. The Main Street was lined with shops and businesses and shoppers and residents were going about their daily lives and chores.
Then I took a closer look at some of the shoppers. Was that a centaur trotting down Main Street? And had I just seen a fairy flitting into one of the shops? Also, across the street I saw a Minotaur raking leaves.
But none of that was possible…right?
“Oh my God!” I murmured, feeling my eyes get wider and wider as I stared. I supposed I shouldn’t be so surprised. After my encounter with the Orc, why did seeing other monsters out in the open shock me?
Maybe it was the casual way they were acting. They weren’t rampaging or growling or chasing down the humans (yes, there were a few of those too.) Instead, they were going about their business, running errands and getting things done—just like regular people.
I walked down the street, trying not to stare as I entered the town. Nobody gave me a second glance…until an older woman came outside from a rambling, Victorian style structure and saw me.
“Well, as I live and breathe!” she exclaimed, cocking her head and looking at me over the thin golden rims of her reading spectacles. “If it isn’t Elvira’s granddaughter!”
She startled me so much I jumped. I wanted to ask her how in the world she knew who I was, but as usual, my words got stuck in my throat. I must have looked distressed, because she came down her front porch steps and put a hand on my arm.
“Oh, honey—are you okay?”
I nodded and then put a hand to my throat and shook my head. Sometimes it worked best if people just thought I was mute.
“You can’t speak?” she asked.
I shook my head and tapped my throat again.
“Hmmm…”
The woman put a hand on my forehead and stared into my face intently for a moment which gave me a chance to study her. She had curly gray hair and sharp green eyes behind her glasses. She was also wearing a colorful pink and green muumuu and fuzzy pink slippers to match.
“Of course you can’t speak,” she said at last, shaking her head. “Why, you’re bound so tightly it’s a wonder you can communicate with anyone at all!”
I shook my head in confusion. What did she mean I was “bound?”
“Oh, I see you have questions. Come on with me—I’ll do what I can to answer them.”
She took me by the arm without asking and led me up the steps to the enormous Victorian structure. It was painted a soft white color and had black trim. The plaque beside the front door had a lion painted in red. It said,
The Red Lion Inn
Established 1744
I stared in surprise—here was another extremely old structure—though not as old as the grocery store, apparently. If I ever got to the grocery store. For now I found myself following the woman in her colorful muumuu through a lovely antique sitting room with old-fashioned furniture and a fire burning in a large fireplace.
She led me through the house to the very back—we walked through the kitchen as well, which was bustling with workers—not all of them humans. In fact, most of them seemed to have dark, bark-like skin, knobbly elbows, and long, crooked noses. Their hair looked a lot like the moss you see growing on the sides of trees.
“Lynta, please bring us a pot of tea back to my private sun parlor,” the woman said to one of them.
“Yes, Goody Albright,” was the quick reply and the strange looking creature scuttled off.
“Don’t look so shocked, dear—they’re only Brownies! You know—house sprites?” the woman said to me, laughing at my surprised expression. “I have to employ quite a lot of them—the Lion has been so busy lately.”