Exclusive! Read an Extra Short Story from Witch Wars

Exclusive! Read an Extra Short Story from Witch Wars

Witch Wars at Witchmas: Fran the Felf

Witchmas is a lot like Christmas, only a fat witch with a black beard falls down your chimney instead of Santa with his white one.

The traditional song the witches sing goes,

“Dashing through the snow,

There was a squeaking noise as a present box made its way across the floor. Fran flicked her finger, sending the box flying and revealing Crispy underneath it.

On a broomstick that goes neigh.

Down the pipes we go,

Cackling all the way,

Ca, ca, ca.”

For the occasion, Fran and the other Sinkville fairies become Witchmas felfs. A felf is a lot like a Christmas elf, only they spend the rest of the year as fairies.

This is the story of Fran’s infamous Felf Gift Wrapping Service, and she is very proud of it.

The First (and only) Chapter: Witchmas HQ

‘And WRAP. And WRAP. Aaaaand WRAAAAP.’

‘Fran, stop saying AND WRAP,’ Crispy said, her wonky nose shaking with anger, a glob of glue pasted on her left eyelid.

‘Yeah,’ Julie Jumbo Wings added. ‘You’re not in charge, Fran.’

Donna, the fairy who refused to fly was nodding enthusiastically.

‘You’re not even wrapping anything, Donna,’ Fran said, rolling her eyes.

All around them, magical unwrapped presents floated next to shiny black boxes with little bat ribbons.

‘Now, listen up, felfs,’ Fran said. ‘I’ve secured a place for me and one other felf at Mavis’ jam stall, where we will be offering FREE FELF GIFT WRAPPING. Now, which lucky felf wants to come with me?’

All the fairies scattered and dived for cover.

‘Ow!’ Fran cried as Julie Jumbo wings hit her in the face with her jumbo wings.

There was a squeaking noise as a present box made its way across the floor. Fran flicked her finger, sending the box flying and revealing Crispy underneath it.

‘Oh frogs,’ Crispy said, as she sheepishly tried to sidestetowards the window.

‘THE WINNER IS CRISPY!’ Fran cried, grabbing the fairy by the arm and charging out of the door.

Fran stood on a jam jar waving her hands in the air. ‘FREE FELF GIFT WRAPPING! GET YOUR FREE FELF GIFT WRAPPING!’

‘What’s free felf gift wrapping?’ a witch asked.

‘We are Witchmas felfs and we will wrap your gifts, for free,’ Crispy said flatly.

‘Well I can’t wrap that,’ Fran said, wrinkling her nose and sending the hat shooting neatly back into the shopping bag the witch had just pulled it from. ‘It would be wrong.’

‘Oh, how wonderful,’ the witch said, plonking down a hat on the stall.

‘Would you please wrap this hat for me?’

Fran lifted the corner of the hat. ‘This hat is a gift?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who for?’ Fran asked.

‘It’s for my sister,’ the witch replied.

‘And do you hate your sister?’ Fran asked.

‘I’m sorry,’ the witch said slowly. ‘I don’t understand.’

Fran tapped her foot. ‘The thing is, Bridget.’

‘My name is Loretta,’ the witch interrupted.

Fran stared at her then looked disdainfully at the hat. ‘The thing is, Borchetta, this hat is awful, and it’s not from Brew’s. I can only assume you would purchase this hat as a sort of punishment, or perhaps an oddly-shaped threat?’

‘No. It’s just a Witchmas present for my sister,’ the witch said, sounding deflated.

‘Well I can’t wrap that,’ Fran said, wrinkling her nose and sending the hat shooting neatly back into the shopping bag the witch had just pulled it from. ‘It would be wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ the witch asked

‘Yes,’ Fran said, looking for her next customer. ‘I’m a Witchmas felf. I can’t wrap a threat. Ah, you over there! Would you like some free felf gift wrapping?’

‘Sorry’ Mavis mouthed to the witch as another witch skidded to a halt at the stall. She placed a pair of boots in front of Fran.

‘Oh how wonderful, free felf gift wrapping! I actually urgently need these wrapped for a friend, I’m meeting her in Clutterbucks in ten minutes!’

‘Now this is more like it,’ Fran said, inspecting the boots closely. ‘And from Brew’s?’

The witch nodded. ‘Yes! My friend has had a hole in her boots all year. I thought Witchmas would be the perfect opportunity to buy her a new pair!’

‘Hmm, yes,’ Fran said. ‘Sorry, did you just say she’s had a hole in her boots all year?’

The witch nodded. ‘All year.’

‘Well,’ Fran said, ‘I’m afraid as a Witchmas felf, I cannot allow you to give these boots to her. She is clearly cruel to boots.’

‘Pardon?’ the witch spluttered.

‘Your friend is cruel to boots. She lets holes in them go unfixed and then, rather than repairing the poor things, she just gets new ones! How do you imagine those old boots feel?’

‘I don’t … think … boots have … feelings?’

Fran pulled some glittery dust from her pocket and splatted it over the boots. With a bang, they were gone. ‘There. They’re safe now.’

‘I JUST BOUGHT THOSE!’ the witch cried.

‘Take some free jam,’ Mavis said, trying to calm the situation. ‘You can have the special jar, shaped like a cat, I’m sure your friend will love it!’

The witch trudged off down the road muttering ‘frogfelfs’ under her breath, while Fran flopped down on the stall and started pulling on the boots, which were not completely gone, just teeny-tiny Fran-sized. ‘Ah,’ she said, admiring her reflection in one of the jam jars. Oh I do love free felf gift wrapping.’

‘We haven’t even done any yet,’ Crispy pointed out.

‘Yes,’ Fran said. ‘But we have revealed a threat-hat and saved a pair of boots, which is the true meaning of Witchmas!’

‘You just make stuff up,’ Crispy said grumpily.