| Children Fiction posted January 21, 2025 |
  |
In The Attic - 9
Grandma For Dinner
by Begin Again
Grandma climbed the four steps to the porch, her knees sounding like the children's cereal bowl — snap, crackle, pop! — with each step. She paused at the top to catch her breath and to wave at her neighbor, Hank Paterson, who was trimming his bushes.
His head snapped up like a prairie dog, and she sighed inwardly. "Oh, Margaret, you knew that was a mistake," she muttered to herself.
"Morning, Margaret!" Hank called, setting down his hedge clippers and striding toward her before she could disappear inside.
Grandma forced a polite smile. "Morning, Hank. I'm just here to grab a few more items for the bazaar."
Hank's eyes fell on the tray of baked goods in her hands, and his grin widened. "Well, now, let me help you with that," he said, reaching for the tray without waiting for her to protest.
She barely had time to object before the tray was in his hands. "Hmm," he said, peeling back the foil, "these look mighty fine. I bet you've got one of those pecan tarts in here. How about we share a cup of coffee and maybe — one or two of these?"
Grandma reached into her pocket for the keys. "Not today, Hank. I've got a lot to do." She paused, patting her other pocket. "Where are those children when I need them?"
She finally fished out her keys and unlocked the door. The house greeted her with an eerie stillness, broken only by the loud ticking of the hallway clock. "Jordan? Quinn?" she called, stepping inside.
Hank followed close behind, still holding the tray and grinning like he owned the place. "Why don't I make us some coffee, Margaret?" he suggested, glancing toward the cupboard. "I know you've got that hazelnut blend you like."
Grandma shook her head, thinking fast. "No, Hank. I'm sorry, but I've got to find the kids and get back to the bazaar. Besides," she gestured vaguely at the kitchen — "I just remembered I'm out of coffee. Completely out. I need to pick some up."
Hank tilted his head, clearly skeptical. "No coffee? You? That's a first."
Ignoring him, Grandma gently pried the tray of pastries from his hands and set it on the counter. She grabbed his arm and steered him firmly back toward the door. "Thanks for the offer, Hank, but I need to get going. Maybe we can have coffee tomorrow."
"But Margaret —"
She opened the door and practically shoved him outside. "Thanks again, Hank! See you later!" She shut the door quickly, leaning against it with relief.
Outside, Hank stood on the sidewalk, scratching his head. "Women," he muttered, shaking his head as he wandered back to his bushes.
Margaret pressed her hand to her chest, her heart still racing. She glanced at the empty, quiet house. "Now, where could those two be?" she murmured. She loved her grandchildren, but they had a way of getting into trouble when she least expected it.
Her gaze drifted to the attic stairs and the open door. She muttered, "They'd better not be in that attic." Determined, she started toward the stairs.
She climbed the stairs, her hand trailing along the banister as she mumbled, "Quiet as mice, those two. Never a good sign."
When she reached the top, she paused at the attic door. It was slightly ajar, and a faint light flickered from within. Her heart skipped a beat. They knew they weren't supposed to be up there.
"Jordan? Quinn?" she called again, her voice sharper this time. Still no answer.
"What on earth?" she murmured, nudging the door open. Her breath caught as the light danced across the dusty room.
The mirror stood in the corner. Its frame glowed, and its surface rippled like a pond touched by a breeze. A faint hum filled the air, low and melodic, almost like a song. The sheet that usually covered it lay crumpled on the floor.
Margaret froze. It had been decades since she'd seen the mirror, and the memories hit her like a wave — flashes of soaring through the Forest of Wonder, the sparkling river fairies, and her dear friend Greta. She stepped closer, her hand trembling as she reached to touch the glass.
"It's not possible," she whispered to herself. "It's just a mirror. I told myself I'd never —"
But her words faltered as the mirror rippled again, the light intensifying. A voice emerged, soft and urgent, cutting through the stillness like a whisper carried on the wind. "Margaret! Margaret! Can you hear me?"
She took a step closer, her hands trembling. "Who's there?" she demanded.
The rippling stilled as her fingers brushed the surface, and a voice drifted from within.
"Margaret!"
She snatched her hand back. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "It can't be —"
"Margaret, the children need you," the voice continued, insistent. "Jordan and Quinn — they're in danger."
Her heart raced as the mirror's surface glowed, and an image appeared. Jordan and Quinn struggled against ropes that bound them to a tree, surrounded by shadowy creatures with sharp claws and glowing eyes.
"No!" Grandma cried, reaching toward the vision. "What's happening? What have you done to them?"
"They need you," the voice said. "Step through the mirror, and you can save them."
Margaret hesitated, her fingers hovering over the shimmering glass. "This — it can't be. It was a young girl's imagination, nothing more."
The image flickered, showing Quinn's terrified face and Jordan struggling against her bonds. "Please, Grandma!" Quinn's voice echoed. "Help us!"
"They need you," the voice said, soothing and insistent. "Only you can help them. Step through the mirror, Margaret, and save them."
She hesitated, her hand hovering just above the frame. Her instincts screamed that something wasn't right, but the vision shifted again, showing Jordan's frightened face, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Grandma, please!" the voice cried, mimicking Jordan's voice perfectly. "Help us!"
Tears filled her eyes as she squared her shoulders. "I'm coming, darlings. Just hold on." She reached out and pressed her palm against the rippling surface. The mirror shimmered, and in an instant, she was inside.
The air shifted, cool and fragrant, with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Memories flooded back as she gazed at the towering trees and shimmering paths. Sunlight danced across the forest floor, and the faint sound of rustling leaves felt almost like a welcome. The air was alive with the chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves, and the ground beneath her feet was soft with a carpet of fallen pine needles.
"I can't believe it's still here," she whispered, taking a cautious step forward. "I thought I'd never return."
She felt like a young girl again, exploring the Forest of Wonder with boundless curiosity. But the tranquility shattered when a sharp crack echoed through the trees.
Before Margaret could react, a net dropped from above, tangling her arms and legs. She stumbled to the ground with a startled cry. Her heart pounded as she struggled against the net, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. "What on earth?"
"Got her!" cackled a raspy voice.
Two small, troll-like creatures emerged from the bushes. Their scaly green skin glistened in the dappled sunlight, and their wiry hair stuck out at odd angles. One carried a large sack, while the other held a gnarled stick adorned with dangling teeth. These trolls, known for their cunning and love of mischief, had caused trouble in the Forest of Wonder for as long as Margaret could remember.
"Looks like tonight's dinner will need a little tenderizing," one troll said, licking his lips. "She might be a bit tough."
"Put me down this instant!" Grandma snapped, struggling against the net. "I am not your dinner!"
"Oh, she's a feisty one!" the second troll said, his grin revealing rows of crooked teeth. He pulled a tattered bag over her head, muffling her protests. "Let's take her to the hut."
As they dragged her through the forest, Margaret kicked and shouted, but the trolls ignored her. Branches snapped underfoot, and she felt every bump and jolt as they hauled her over roots and rocks. "You two are going to regret this!" she hollered, her voice muffled by the sack.
"Regret? Ha! The only thing we'll regret is not catching dessert!" one troll quipped, making the other snicker.
Grandma's mind swirled in confusion. She couldn't believe the trolls had outsmarted her. She tried to remember the tricks she used as a girl, but being tied up in a net complicated things.
The commotion made the animals scatter everywhere as the trolls dragged Margaret deeper into the forest. Birds squawked from the treetops, and squirrels chattered angrily as the trolls stomped through their territory. A family of rabbits huddled in a burrow, their noses twitching nervously.
High above the scene, perched on a sturdy branch, the Wise Owl observed the chaos with his sharp, golden eyes. His feathers ruffled as he hooted, calling the animals to gather. Slowly, creatures of all sizes crept from their hiding spots, their fear evident.
"What's happening, Wise Owl?" asked a trembling fox, her tail tucked between her legs. "Who is that poor soul they've captured?"
"That," Wise Owl said, his voice deep and steady, "is Margaret, the human grandmother who has always been kind to this forest. Those foolish trolls have no idea the trouble they're in."
A young deer stomped his hoof. "We have to do something! But how do we fight the trolls?"
Wise Owl nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Indeed. There's only one who can stop them now."
"Grandma Greta!" a chipmunk squeaked. "She's the only one they're afraid of."
Wise Owl spread his wings. "Exactly. But Greta won't know what's happening unless we send word to her."
A carrier pigeon fluttered down from a nearby branch, puffing out his chest. "I'll take the message. I'm the fastest flier in the forest!"
The animals exchanged hopeful glances as Wise Owl gave the pigeon an approving nod. "Very well. Fly fast and tell her exactly what you've seen. Tell her Margaret is in grave danger."
The pigeon saluted with his wing. "I won't let you down!" he declared, flapping into the sky. The animals watched as he soared above the trees, disappearing into the distance.
Meanwhile, Margaret's indignation gave way to unease as she caught glimpses of frightened animals darting away. "What's wrong with you?" she snapped at the trolls. "Even the animals know you're up to no good!"
One troll snickered. "The forest creatures won't come close because they know we'll add them to our stew."
Margaret huffed. "If you think this will end well for you, you've got another think coming. Someone's going to stop you."
The trolls laughed, their gruff voices echoing through the forest. "No one's stopping us this time!" one gloated.
But Margaret remembered how the animals gathered together to help others. She noticed something in the distance — a faint flutter of wings. She allowed herself a small, hopeful smile. Help was on its way.
The trolls finally stopped, dumping Grandma unceremoniously onto the floor of their hut. She heard the crackling of a fire and the clatter of pots and pans. One troll yanked the bag from her head, and she blinked against the dim light.
The hut was a chaotic mess of mismatched furniture, dangling herbs, and piles of strange trinkets. In the center of the room stood a large, bubbling stew pot, its surface shimmering with a thick, greenish liquid.
One troll rubbed his hands together. "We'll start with a pinch of this," he said, tossing something unidentifiable into the pot.
"And a dash of that," the other added, sprinkling in crushed leaves.
Grandma glared at them. "You can't just go around eating people! Haven't your grandmothers taught you any manners?"
The trolls paused, exchanging a guilty glance. "She does sound like Grandma Greta," one muttered.
"Yeah, but she's still dinner," the other replied, shrugging.
They started stacking firewood beneath the pot, humming as they worked. Grandma Margaret's frustration boiled over. "You two, stop that right now! If you think for one second —"
The door slammed open with a thunderous bang, and the trolls froze. An enormous figure loomed in the doorway, her shadow stretching across the room.
"What in the name of the forest is going on here?" the newcomer bellowed.
Grandma Margaret's jaw dropped as a towering troll with silver-streaked hair and a stern expression stomped into the hut. She wore an apron covered in flour and brandished a large fork like a weapon.
"Grandma!" the smaller trolls stammered, scrambling to hide behind the pot.
Greta's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. Her gaze fell on Margaret, and her scowl softened into shock. "Margaret?" she gasped. "Is it really you?"
Margaret blinked. "Greta? I — I can't believe it! After all these years?"
The smaller trolls peeked out from behind the pot, their confusion evident. "Wait — you two know each other?"
"Know each other?" Greta said, turning her piercing gaze on her grandsons. "Margaret and I were the best of friends! When she was just a young girl, we had many adventures together. And now you're trying to cook her? Have you lost your minds?"
The trolls shrank under her glare. "Uh — we didn't know," one muttered.
Greta didn't wait for an explanation. She cut the net with a swift swipe of her fork, helping Margaret to her feet. "I am so sorry about this, Margaret. Honestly, these boys are more trouble than they're worth."
"Don't I know it?" Margaret said, brushing herself off. "You'd think they'd have better manners with a grandmother like you."
The two grandmothers sat at a sturdy wooden table, sipping tea from mismatched mugs. The warm, herbal aroma filled the room as Margaret recounted her vision in the mirror and the events that had brought her back to the Forest of Wonder.
"So, Jordan and Quinn found the mirror, did they?" Greta said with a chuckle, her sharp eyes twinkling. "Well, it sounds like they've inherited your bravery and your knack for finding trouble."
Margaret smiled, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. "I'm proud of them. But I wonder if they'll ever stay out of this forest."
"Would you want them to?" Greta asked, raising a brow.
Margaret hesitated, then shook her head. "No, I suppose not. But it's a dangerous place. They've already faced so much."
Greta's expression softened. "Oh, Margaret, you should have seen their courage. Why, just a few weeks ago, they saved the entire forest from being burned to ash."
Margaret leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Greta smiled. "It was that dragon, the one cursed by the wicked witch. She forced him to set fires in the forest, but Jordan and Quinn found him chained in a cave behind the waterfall. Lyria kissed him — broke the spell, mind you — and he turned back into a prince."
Margaret gasped. "A dragon? A Prince?"
"Oh, yes," Greta said, nodding. "And that wasn't the only time they've come to the rescue. There was the sorcerer who lost his magic staff. Those two climbed to the top of a raven's nest to retrieve it for him. Can you imagine?"
Margaret shook her head in disbelief. "I can imagine Quinn grumbling about how hungry he was the entire time."
Greta laughed. "Oh, he did. And Jordan teased him mercilessly for it. But they didn't give up, and the sorcerer regained his powers because of their determination."
Margaret's smile widened. "That sounds like them."
"And then," Greta continued, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "there was the time they saved the fairies. Poor things were locked in jars, their lights fading fast. If your two grandchildren hadn't stepped in, the fairies wouldn't have lasted much longer."
Margaret's eyes misted over. "They are remarkable, aren't they?"
Greta reached across the table, resting a hand on Margaret's. "They take after you, my friend. The Forest of Wonder is lucky to have them."
The trolls sulked in the corner, scrubbing pots and pans under Greta's stern watch. She cast them a sharp glance. "And you two troublemakers have learned a valuable lesson, haven't you?"
"Yes, Grandma," they muttered, shuffling their feet.
Greta turned back to Margaret. "They'll escort you home safely, and I promise you, they'll be on their best behavior."
Margaret chuckled, finishing the last sip of her tea. "Thank you, Greta. For everything."
The trolls led Margaret back to the mirror, grumbling but obedient. Before stepping through, Margaret turned to Greta. "It's good to see you again."
Greta smiled. "Come back anytime, Margaret. And tell those grandchildren of yours I said hello."
*****
When Margaret emerged from the mirror, she sighed in relief, brushing dust from her skirt. The glow of the mirror faded behind her, leaving only faint ripples on its surface. She paused, her hand lingered on the frame as she allowed herself one last look. Memories of her past adventures mixed with thoughts of Jordan and Quinn's bravery, and her heart swelled with pride.
"Still the same old magic," she murmured as a wistful smile played on her lips.
Remembering why she'd come upstairs, Margaret grabbed the books she'd promised for the bazaar. On her way down, she passed through the kitchen and spotted the tray of pastries Hank had eyed earlier. With a small laugh, she picked out one of his favorite tarts and stepped outside.
Hank was still fussing with his bushes, muttering to himself. "Hank," Margaret called, walking over to the fence. "Here. A little peace offering for earlier."
Hank's face lit up as he accepted the tart. "Well, I'll be. Maybe you'll let me make you that coffee tomorrow?"
Margaret chuckled. "We'll see. For now, enjoy the tart. I've got to get going."
She waved and walked away; her steps lighter than before.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jordan and Quinn burst through the kitchen door, their faces glowing with excitement from their latest adventure.
"Grandma!" Jordan called, kicking off her shoes. "We're home!"
Margaret appeared in the doorway, her expression calm but her eyes twinkling. "Perfect timing. I have a special treat for you both. Come into the kitchen."
The twins exchanged a glance, then hurried to the table. Their faces lit up as Margaret set out a plate of baked goods. "You made these for us?" Quinn asked, grabbing the biggest tart.
Margaret chuckled. "I thought you might have worked up an appetite today."
As they devoured the treats, Margaret leaned back in her chair, watching them fondly. She knew exactly where they'd been but wasn't ready to share her own stories yet. That secret would wait for another day. She was content to let them have their adventures and maybe a little mischief, too.
As the twins finished their treats and began bickering over the last tart, Margaret smiled to herself. Her heart swelled with love and pride for the two brave adventurers she was lucky to call her own. "One day," she thought, "they'll understand just how much this forest has meant to me, too — but not today."
 Recognized |
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2025. Begin Again All rights reserved.
Begin Again has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
