Seething Santa

Angrat amused herself by dreaming up new ways to plague the villagers when Mom wasn’t looking.

It was the annual celebration, on the first Christmas since her sister’s wedding. The family and members of the senior staff were all exchanging gifts, Secret Santa style.

Angrat was bored with the proceedings, as usual, and wishing for this holiday to be over. So she fidgeted and dreamed about plagues of rabbits and rains of deer urine and such, for the villagers who lived at the base of the castle’s hill. She had to wait for Mother (the Queen) to be otherwise occupied and not paying attention, of course. Timing is everything.

Henry the Butler was trying to hand her something.

“Oh, it’s my turn,” Angrat said with a start.

Colorful paper around a small heavy box, tied up with a tasteful bow. Angrat hated it. But she unwrapped her gift with care.

A crystal ball. She scowled up at Beneficent, of course her sister, it couldn’t be from anyone else.

But this wasn’t a scrying ball. Inside was a snowman, and a tiny witch in a minuscule peaked hat. As she watched, snow fell inside the globe, and shaking it made the snow fall harder.

A teeny snowball flew across the tiny scene and knocked the witch’s peaked hat off, a perfect shot. And two tiny little giggles.

She looked up and Beneficent nodded. “Us, of course. When we were little.”

For some inexplicable reason, Angrat’s eyes filled with tears. She muttered a quiet, “thank you,” and made a quick break for the spiral stairs.

After she reached the depths of the castle dungeons, she hurled the snow globe against the stone walls with a scream.

Damn the witch.


When they heard the scream echoing up from the dungeons, Beneficent nodded and snatched the wager back out of Très Charmant’s hand. Angrat’s rage was her defining characteristic, silly of Très to bet against it. He would learn.

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I can’t help it. They keep begging me to be in more.


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