Red Clover
- August -
moon, August straightened out the blanket onto a clover field overlooking a large pond on the outskirts of Henbane Hollow. Ragana popped the cork from a bottle of wine and poured it into glasses as August pulled out a small box of pastries.
“Looks like you got the enchantment right this time,” August said as Owl Buns fluttered out from the box and hopped on the blanket.
Ragana handed over a glass of wine. “It only took five more attempts. I think I’ll be mopping chocolate from the ceiling for months.”
A garden gnome, complete with a shiny red cap, came running out from the bushes, stopping at the edge of the blanket to inspect the animated pastries. As the little owl flapped its wings, the gnome mimicked it.
“How long does it last?” August asked as the gnome coerced the owl off the blanket.
“Should only be five minutes after coming out of the box, give or take.”
More gnomes appeared to inspect the little Owl Bun, surrounding it and poking at it. Then they descended on it, tearing it to pieces and shoveling bits of pastry into their chocolate covered mouths.
“Oh, my god!” August shouted, corralling the remaining pastries back toward them. “They went feral on that poor owl.”
Ragana nearly doubled over laughing. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know, but definitely not that. You’re just gonna let them kill that poor owl like that?”
Ragana righted herself. “The animation spell is meant to be like a puppet on strings. They mimic life, but they aren’t actually alive. Trust me, that Owl Bun didn’t feel a thing. Otherwise, I’d have some explaining to do to my customers.”
“Good point,” August said, giving the gnomes, who collected at the edge of the blanket, the side-eye. “Well, you little monsters still don’t get any more.”
The gnomes all lowered their heads, pouting, and backed away. One poked a clover, and it instantly burst into bloom, a little pink flower erupting from the leaves. The others caught on and started chasing each other around, trailing lines of pink flowers in the little field.
Ragana sighed and sipped on her wine. “This was a perfect choice.”
“I know, right?” August said, staring at the pond. Long grass and orange and yellow flowers encompassed the shores of the pond, which reflected the beautiful orange and purple sky above them. Fireflies danced above the water, flickering green bursts of light like fireworks. “It’s . . . magical.”
“This is the Henbane Hollow I remember,” Ragana said. She brushed her hands along the clovers, and shoots of poppies and lupine rippled out from her fingers.
The gnomes rushed over to the flowers, one now carrying around a mushroom like it was some kind of parasol as they inspected and attempted to climb the poppies.
August pulled out a plate filled with cheeses, fruits, and breads, a joint effort of Ragana’s baking skills and August spending the better half of the afternoon scouring markets for the best of the best. Slowly, the owl pastries nestled down onto plates, and they stopped moving altogether. Every bite was amazing, from the aged and smoked gruyere to the largest grapes August had ever seen, the rosemary and pine nut sourdough, and the sweet and flakey chocolate-filled pastries.
As they savored the food, Ragana leaned into August, her dark eyes twinkling from the fireflies. “Ragana?” August asked.
“Yes?”
“This was fun, and I just . . . I want to make sure we’re on the same page about us.”
Ragana smiled and stared down at her glass of wine. “Of course. I do too.”
August’s gaze softened. “With you . . . I feel at ease.”
“Me too,” she said, leaning in and resting her shoulder on theirs.
August bit their lip. Ragana’s face was close to theirs, and the question had been lingering on their mind for so long. “May I . . . can I kiss you?”
Ragana paused for a moment, then she smiled and leaned in. August met her halfway, their lips gently pressing together. There were several cheers that pulled August away. They spotted the gnomes, who’d stopped playing their games and stared at August and Ragana.
August laughed and turned back to Ragana, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in. It was incredibly comfortable, and August could stay like this forever.
“I have something for you,” Ragana said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small copper key. “It’s the key to the cafe. In case the pastries decide to start a revolt again. And in case you ever want to come over.”
August turned the key over and smiled. They knew this meant more than just a key to the cafe. “I could get used to this, you know? This . . . us. I like it.”
“Me too.”
They watched the sun slowly dip into the horizon as the garden gnomes started a game of keep away with one of the leftover Owl Buns. Everything was right in the world, and August felt a sense of peace they hadn’t had in a long time, like they were finally home.
August leaned against the door of Mandrake Manor, a smile spread across their face. They found Mat and Frankie in the living room. Mat reclined on the couch with a book in hand while Frankie stared intensely at a candle in front of him, with Dude and Hel on either side.
Dude rushed over to August’s side, their tail wagging so hard their hindquarters swayed.
“What are you doing?” August asked, scratching Dude’s head.
Frankie blinked and sat up straight. “Trying to light this damn candle with my mind.”
“I told him it won’t work,” Hel said, her paws resting on the Mandrake spellbook. “He’s trying too hard.”
“I almost had it,” Frankie said.
“He’s been at it for the past hour,” Mat mumbled from the couch.
“If it’s so easy,” Frankie grumbled, “then why don’t you do it?”
Mat put his book down and sat up on the couch. He focused in on the candles and let out a slow breath.
August watched as one candle started to smoke, then burst into flame.
“Show off,” Frankie said, blowing the candle out.
“How was the date?” Mat asked, leaning back on the couch.
August smiled. “It was amazing.”
“Did you make out?” Frankie asked.
Hel let out a growl and swatted at Frankie. “Who asks that?”
“We did,” August said, heat rising from their neck.
“Damn,” Mat said, his nose buried in his book. “Everyone is getting some but me.”
“Well, you ever going to message Jacob?” Frankie asked. “Or are you going to keep pretending to read Wuthering Heights until Demetri comes back?”
Mat snapped his book shut. “Rude.” He sat up and put his head in his hands. “It just feels weird.”
August shrugged. “You should try it anyway. Didn’t Demetri forbid you from moping around?”
“You too? I’m getting ganged up on,” Mat said.
“Well, your friends aren’t lying,” Hel said.
“And now you?”
“Just text him,” August said. “What’s the worst that could happen? You go on a date and actually like it?”
“Then we could all have make-out buddies,” Frankie said.
Mat rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. “Fine. What do I say?”
August laughed and hopped onto the couch next to Mat. Frankie squeezed in on the other side.
Through giggles and suggestive emojis, the three of them comprised a message. August wasn’t sure their night could get any better. First with Ragana, and now here, among their friends, in their house, giggling over a boy.
August slipped into unconsciousness in their bed, sinking deep into lands that were becoming more and more familiar. Darkness blossomed into color, and a castle made of smooth iridescent stone stood before them.
They had gotten better at dreaming, sending themself off to faraway lands, and building a place to revisit memories and dreams. August took a step, and the world blurred and melted away, replaced with a hall inside the castle. They stood at the base, a spiral of doors that led off to memories and reconstructions of Mandrake Manor and the Owl Cafe.
They walked along the halls, twiddling their fingers as they created little gnomes that clinked as their ceramic feet ran along the stone floor. Stopping at a space at the end of the hall, they faced the wall and a door materialized in the stone. This one was inlaid with little silver clovers and gnomes. They opened the door, watching as the gardens were reconstructed, the clovers a little bigger and the fireflies replaced with little orbs of colorful light that occasionally burst into fireworks.
August sat down on the blanket and looked up at the sunset sky, a perfect mix of orange and deep purple. The gnomes they had created were already skittering about, turning clovers into massive flowers and running into each other with loud clinks.
This would be their new sanctuary, a place they could find refuge in if they ever needed it. They nearly dozed off, lying there, listening to the gnomes swish in and out of the clover. August wondered what would happen if they fell asleep in a dream.
However, they didn’t get to explore that thought any further as an icy wind rippled across their skin. They sat up, frowning. They hadn’t summoned the wind, and in a place like this, they should have control of everything.
The top of the pond rippled again before another burst of cold air washed over August. Clovers wilted, and flower petals fell to the ground, decayed. The gnomes ran behind August, cowering behind them.
“What the hell?” August said, sitting up. They waved their hand, demanding things turn back, but nothing happened.
“Not hell,” a voice whispered. It sounded raspy, carried on rustling leaves. Shadows melded together and rose in front of August. A porcelain white face, more like a mask than an actual face, stared at August from within a long tattered black robe. As it spoke, neither lips nor eyes moved. “You tread on my lands.”
“Who are you?” August asked, pushing themself up to their feet.
The masked being cocked its head. “I am the whisper, the weaver of fantasies, the echo of subconscious, the enigma cloaked in the veil of night. I am the labyrinth of illusion.”
August shut their eyes, willing themself to be anywhere else but here. Normally, this would take them wherever they wanted, no matter the distance. However, as they opened their eyes, they were still in the decayed gardens, staring at the creature.
A long bony hand with yellowed nails protruded from the robes. “You have no power here, witch. Not when I command these lands.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything,” the creature said. Another boney hand materialized, then another, and another, all reaching for August.
August fell back, and the creature rushed over to them, ready to descend, their many hands reaching.
Then the creature shouted, looking down as the little gnomes rammed into it, pointy hats aimed at its legs.
With all their might, August willed themself away.
August gasped, sitting up in bed, their heart racing and cold sweat on their brow. They shifted in their bed, feeling something strange and gritty on their legs. They flipped on the light and pulled back the covers, revealing a bed covered in sand.