I’ve made my reputation around this kingdom for building what others can’t. I’ve built castles floating in the sky, houses with 3 different secret passageways, and even had to contain LIVING FURNITURE. Do you know how hard it is to move a couch that bites? I lost 2 good men that day! And yet, the request I had that day was the strangest I’ve ever heard.

It was a pretty normal day in the Enchanted Forest. The sun was shining, the birds were tweeting, and a breeze carried the scent of spring throughout the land. Ugh. I hate those types of days – the birds get on my nerves quick, and the sun and wind make working hard. But business was slow that day, and I could almost relax – save paying too much in taxes for Her Most Royal Services. That is, until an old hag walked into my office, cane and everything. She sat down at my desk and got straight to the point.

“Davion, I need a house, entirely of the sweetest candy you can procure!” she said.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, setting down my mead.

“No, I mean it!” she scolded. “I desire a house of candy, with fanciful gumdrop centerpieces and–”

“Hold on now lady,” I began. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How do you expect me to be able to build out of candy?”

She paused for a moment. “I make gingerbread houses around the eve of Feasttime. Perhaps you could… just enlarge that a bit?”

“Ma’am, even the thickest gingerbread barely has the structural integrity to hold itself, much less a roof any larger than, say… 25 by 20 feet.”

“Oh, I won’t be needing a lot of space,” she insisted.

“Alright, fine,” I said with a sigh. “Gingerbread it is.” I started to think about how I could possibly make this work. The traditional frosting approach to binding the walls wasn’t going to hold under any sort of stress. Caramel could probably work instead, assuming it didn’t eat into the walls. I would have to test that before construction began. “You realize,” I continued, “that you’re not going to be able to have anything over about 90 degrees. A kitchen is right out.”

“Sir! I need a kitchen!” she exclaimed.

I rested my head in my hands. “You – I can’t – your house would melt.”

“Mr. Bottomschnitzel –”

“Dave,” I corrected. Few things annoyed me more than my ridiculous name. But people read it, they remember it, and they bring their business, so I can’t change now.

“Yes. Dave. My sincerest apologies. How do you expect me to survive without a kitchen?” she asked.

I admit, I lost my temper at that. I stood up, slamming my hand against the desk. “How do you expect me to build a kitchen entirely out of candy?” I yelled. “It would all be puddles!” She stared at me for a moment, blank expression. I sat back down and took a deep breath. “Maybe, just maybe, we can develop some custom-made, steel reinforced hard candy material. But it’s gonna cost you a whole lotta gold.”

“Quite understood,” she said.

“I don’t think you do. I could make you a manor of stylish mahogany for the same cost. I’m talkin’ fit for Prince Charming himself.”

“Whatever it takes,” she said.

“Okay. As long as you know.” As frustrated as I still was, I could also see how profitable this could be. “What do you even need a candy house for anyway?” I asked. I didn’t know how much I would come to regret it.

“Oh, for trapping children of course.”

I was taken back. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I want to lure children to my house, and then, after they feel safe and are perfectly fattened up, I’ll bake them into a pie!” She let out a long maniacal cackle that echoed through the room. “Plus, free snacks.”

Now, if you knowingly come across a witch – and they’re not hard to pick out, with the obvious evil and all – you are obligated by Royal Law to contact the authorities. But the last thing I needed was the damn Queen meddling with my chance to make some coin, and this hag seemed to be a bottomless well. We shook on the deal, and not a fortnight later, construction began.

-Ryan Wires, Contributor