Page 118 of The Sea Witch's Son

Pivoting, I head towards the small black door at the end of the hall. It looks like something out of a gnome garden, a tiny arched doorway that could lead you to wonderland.

I crouch down and duck through the narrow frame, barely making it past without rumpling my suit. Brushing any potential wrinkles free, I stand up and survey the extravagant throne room laid out before me.

Set up like a church, the rows of wooden pews are filled with bodies dressed in the cheapest cotton. They’re made to look like peasants, each one wearing an identical expression of horror as they stare at the elevated platform.

A massive guillotine perches upon it, the wooden planks painted with hearts oozing blood. The blade has been replaced countless times since the French Revolution while the rest of the contraption has been restored to its former glory.

A deep, booming voice washes over the audience.

“John Rabbit, approach the stage.”

“I wasn’t late! I swear I wasn’t late!”

The screaming creature gets dragged up the stairs, its shaking body held by the executor himself.

“By jury of the king, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

“No!”

The poor thing weeps and cries as its head gets lodged in the lunette. The executioner cackles with glee, his pudgy face full of delight when he reaches for the release handle.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

The blade goes hurtling towards the ground. Another scream rings out and the blade slices down.

The dismembered head bounces down the stairs and rolls to a stop at my feet. Picking it up off the ground, I stare at the bunny who had the misfortune of being Jack Heart’s toy.

“After all these years, you’re still playing make-believe.”

Tossing the head to the side, I watch it bounce against the other stuffed animals lining the pews. Each one dawns a crude marker smile and patchy clothing that looks horribly handmade.

Holding back a grimace, I turn from the clumsy sewing attempts to the boy who never quite became a man.

An unflattering blush creeps across his face, the unfortunate sight only made worse by the scowl pinching his bushy brows together.

“I’m not playing make-believe. I’m performing.”

I sigh heavily, “Nobody comes to watch your performances, do they?”

“The Queen comes to watch my show every evening.” Beady little eyes narrow, “Unlike you, I have a mother who gives a shit about me.”

“Oh, Jack.” Climbing the stairs, I walk past the mountain of decapitated toys, “Nobody likes a mama’s boy. I’ve heard it is theleastattractive feature a man can have.”

I come to a stop right in front of him. A wide smile spreads across my face as I stare down at him.

“Besides his height, of course.”

A vein bulges in his forehead as the short man glares up at me. Despite being the tallest kid in fifth grade, Jack soon fell down the rung of intimidation when it became clear the poor sap took after his mother.

Only coming up to my stomach, what Jack Heart lacks in height he more than makes up for in hair. Wild and unruly, the curls stick up in every direction like a desperate attempt to reach the next shelf. His head is slightly too small for his plump body and the royal cape hanging off his shoulders is doing a poor job of hiding that fact.

“At least I don’t have those ugly ass stretch marks.” His teeth snap together in a sneer, “Your back is fucking disgusting. My mom always said-

“I am not too concerned about your fascination with my body.” My lips peel back into a smile, “Or your mother’s for that matter.”

“I didn’t say-

His words get cut off when I shove him backwards. The crown sitting atop his head goes crashing to the ground and the Heart prodigy follows suit. Grabbing his cape, I wrap itaround his neck until those beady little eyes are bulging from their sockets.

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