Conor shook his head. “That’s a terrible story. And a cheat.”
It is a true story, the monster said. Many things that are true feel like a cheat.
Kingdoms get the princes they deserve, farmers’ daughters die for no reason, and sometimes witches merit saving.
Quite often, actually. You’d be surprised. Conor glanced up at his bedroom window again, imagining his grandma sleeping in his bed.
“So how is that supposed to save me from her?” The monster stood to its full height, looking down on Conor from afar.
It is not her you need saving from, it said.
Conor sat up straight on the settee, breathing heavily again.
12.07, read the clock. “Dammit!” Conor said. “Am I dreaming or not?”
He stood up angrily– And immediately stubbed his toe. “What now?” he grumbled, leaning over to flick on a light.
From a knot in a floorboard, a fresh, new and very solid sapling had sprouted, about a foot tall.
Conor stared at it for a while. Then he went to the kitchen to get a knife to saw it out of the floor.
UNDERSTANDING
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