In stitches

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In stitches
by Harbinger of Death

 “Why me?” whined Nydiva. “I have things to do, you know!”

“You sure do,” said Harbinger, and opened the cabinets of the kitchen. They were stocked. “I have a few recipes you’d probably enjoy trying.”

Nydiva thumbed through the index cards lying on the counter. Caramel Apple Pie…Pumpkin Crunch…S’mores Bars. “Not bad,” she conceded.

“I made this guest house specifically for you Debs, and I figured you could come early and help get everything going for when the rest are killed. You are, after all, one of the best hostesses on campus.”

“Well, that’s true,” Nydiva said, batting her eyes. “All right, then. I’ll start with the pie. I love apples.”

“No kidding,” grinned the Harbinger, and made his exit. Still more Debs to kill, you know.

“Hey, you guys, will you be my guinea pigs?” Nydiva asked Castalia and SheElf.

“You bet!!” they said, their mouths watering at the thought of warm pie topped with luscious ice cream.

Meanwhile, Kat and CJ were working on their costumes. “This is going to be a great mage’s robe,” said Kat. It was deep blue velvet with silver stars and moons, gold suns, and gold rope trim. She caressed its softness with her hand, outlining the appliques with her finger.

“Very nice,” CJ agreed. “I hope my fairy wings turn out as well. This material is kind of hard to work with, it’s so sheer and thin.” She held it to her lips and blew gently, and the gauzy material billowed from her warm breath.

“But you’re doing an excellent job,” Kat told her. “The stitchery is very fine, and they’re going to be lovely when they’re done.”

“Thanks!” CJ said, and the two bent over their costumes again to continue their work. They ran the fabric lovingly through the machines, the needle impaling it again and again to fuse the seams together with the taut thread.

“Say,” CJ said over the hum of the machines, “did you hear about the first deaths of the year?”

“Sure did,” said Kat. “I wonder who’s next. Ouch!!!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I got my finger caught in the bobbin! Help!”

“Okay, I’ll be right—Ouch! I did too! Ow, ow!”

But this was no ordinary pin prick. The room spun for the seamstresses, and they slumped over their unfinished costumes. When they were found later, it was too late, and with them was a small picture of Sleeping Beauty with her finger on a spinning wheel.

October 21 2000 

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