Enchanted [ON HOLD]

Chapter 8

     I've never had a hangover before.

     That was my first thought when I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming into my bedroom. I hated beer. Sure, I'd had one or two sips of wine before, but I never got severely drunk enough to have a hangover.

     I knew one thing now though. Hangovers sucked.

     Every bone, every joint in my body was stiff. Even my stomach felt bloated. I couldn't bear to face myself in the mirror, I didn't want to see if I looked as messed up as I felt. I groaned as I peeled the quilt away from myself and got down from the queen-sized bed.

     Wait... Quilt? Queen-sized bed?

     I blinked a few times and forced myself to look around. It was a small wooden room, barely a third of the size of my bedroom, but nonetheless very cozy.

     Mechanically, I reached into the back pocket of my denim shorts (I still hadn't changed out of them) for my iPhone. I wanted to call Laetitia or Troy, to ask if this was some kind of sick after-party joke.

     There was no signal. The phone wouldn't even work.

     Where was I again? Oh right, in the Enchanted Forest.

     I made my way out of the bedroom, passing through the tiny corridor into the living room. On the way, I took a whiff of myself, and found, to my utter disgust, that I smelled exactly like a chimpanzee that hadn't bathed for a year.

     Goodness gracious.

     Finnegan was standing over the couch, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed already, belting on his sword while packing some food into his bundle of things.

     Just because he showed me some fairy hideout at night, doesn't mean he still isn't a loser.

     "Are we leaving so soon?" I asked.

     "Oh, good morning." Finnegan looked up. "I was thinking, since we wouldn't be able to have such good accommodation anymore - and there are no inns in the Forest - you and I should get washed up before we continue our journey. I've already changed."

     Indeed, he was wearing a fresh set of clothes: an aquamarine-colored vest over a white shirt with brown pants and boots. It looked way more dressy - for jungle wear, that is - than yesterday's clothes.

     "If you're thinking how I got these clothes," Finnegan explained, as if he could read my thoughts, "there's a wardrobe that gives you almost anything you want to wear. You just have to imagine it in your head in front of the wardrobe."

     I grinned, it sounded way too good to be true. This would be so much better than shopping with a parents-paid credit card.

     "It's in the room you slept in," he called out. "And dress modestly, I think we might be reaching the village today. Or tomorrow at the very most."

     I rolled my eyes, too happy anyway at my great fortune to have had arrive at a witch's cottage. I found the wardrobe easily. With its imposing size and grand green and gold designs, it was hard to miss. 

     "Charlie Woollerton, what would you like to dress yourself in today? Ask, and it shall be yours."

     I gasped. The wardrobe had spoken to me, but I guess there was nothing less to expect in a witch's cottage. It sounded very feminine, quite deep, but not unkindly.

     I knotted my fingers together. "I...I'd like a long dress. Very pale pinkish, with the sleeves reaching to my elbows and a pink satin ribbon tied below the bosom."