"Aunt Penelope, how old were you when you got your gift?" Amy asked, as soon as they arrived back in her room. She noticed the clock on the wall. They had been gone only three hours. It had felt so much longer.
"I was fifteen." Her aunt mused sitting down on the only chair in the room, the coloured feathers on her dress dancing around her feet.
"What gift did you receive?"
"One of the best. The gift of movement. That's how come I can use my imagination to move however I want. By wave, staircase banister, lift, carpet whatever I can conjure up. Unlike your mother, her gift was... " Her aunt's smile faded. Her eyes dropped to the floor. But not before Amy could see the sadness welling there. "Well, that's something you'll have to ask your mother."
The questions Amy was thinking was enough to make her head spin. But she was hoping this one was something her aunt could answer.
"Why isn't mummy a Storyteller anymore?"
Her aunt hesitated for so long. Amy was about to tell her aunt not to worry about it, when she started to sing the sweetest little lullaby.
Amy's heart did a loop. She knew that song. Her mother had sung it all the time when she was little. It was her favourite. It was the only thing that calmed her down after every nightmare.
"Your father and you came along."
Her smiling aunt opened her arms wide and Amy ran into them. Aunt Penelope gave the best hugs. Almost as good as her parents.
"Unfortunately not every person a Storyteller meets, becomes their friend."
Her aunt became very serious. Holding Amy tighter.
"We have our enemies too." Her frown deepened as she continued. "Your mother was worried Tarnal would come looking for her and she was afraid of what he would do to you and your father, so she gave up her position as Storyteller to keep you both safe."
Her aunt surprised her with a little chuckle. "Besides your father wouldn't approve of it. Funny, he fights demons and protects aliens all over the universe on his PC games and yet thinks real magic is weird."
"Who's Tarnal?" A flicker of terror flashed across her aunts eyes.
"Someone, I hope you never meet."
Then the look was gone, and she was all smiles. "Now how about you get changed and we go and see if Hilda, Miranda and Cybil feel like joining us for lunch?"
Leaving her room, Amy noticed the black cat, still with his little top hat, sitting outside her door.
"Hello there Mr Purrington. What are you doing here?" She softly stroked his fur. He happily turned his head so she could scratch around his neck. Purring quite loudly.
"Meoww Mew Meow." Amy was wishing she could speak cat , when her aunt replied.
'Of course... we would love to have your company."
He gave his fur several licks before falling in between Amy and her aunt as they walked to the fourth room on the left.
"I'll just finish entering this code, and in we go. Oh... Mr Purrington, I should advise you there are hobgoblins living here."
At the mention of Hobgoblins, Mr Purrington's eyes widened. His ears flattened, his tail stood up and he arched his back.
"Hiss!"
Amy couldn't believe a cat could move so fast.
"Maybe next time" Aunt Penelope's eyes twinkled as they walked into the room.
YOU ARE READING
The Storyteller - ONC 2022
General FictionNine-year-old Amy Winter's holiday plans have gone from exciting to total disaster. How is she supposed to have any fun being packed up and sent to stay with a weird relative she can't even remember? And Aunt Penelope is as weird as they get. With...
