A middle-aged woman opened the front door of her her house when a whole lot of children hurriedly swarmed inside, pushing her back in the process. She laughed as one kid held her hand and pulled her with him; and then urging her to sit down on her seat while whining.

"Alright, alright. I will." She chuckled as she sat down on her chair, making all the children around her to quickly take their place on the floor, where they could listen to her attentively.

The woman pushed a strand of hair back in its place and asked, "So, what storybook would you like for today?" She placed a hand on her shaker end table and opened the drawer with the other, waiting for the children's replies.

"We'd like it if you made one up!" One child said, all the while raising his hand.

"Yes! Please, Miss!" Another chimed in, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"A story about fairies would be nice. Especially if I was the fairy!" One more added, her giggles filling up the room when the other kids protested she be a fairy. "Then make everyone a fairy, Miss!" The boys made a fuss(they'd rather be trolls instead), while the girls laughed.

Miss raised an eyebrow, closing her drawer shut. "Make up a story?"

"Yes!" They all agreed.

"Hm," She placed a hand on her lap and raised the other, making the children close their mouths for they knew a storytelling was about to start. "Then I have just the story for you all."

"Once upon a time, there was a Witch who lived inside a tree ..."
 

Jongdae was the type of elf who didn't like work, the type who'd rather much lay under a tree with a cool shade. But here he was, struggling to keep his balance while carrying three boxes full of fragile potions and trinkets. He'd be hexed to his misery if he made the mistake to stumble and, along with the frangible objects inside the box, crash to the ground.

He kicked the front door of the shop open, carefully lowering himself as he walked inside so that the box on top wouldn't hit the head jamb of the door frame.

"Ma'am, I've brought the stuff." Putting the three boxes just next to the door, Jongdae dusted dirt off of himself and looked around. There was no sign of the shop owner. He heaved a sigh, making his way towards the open door behind the counter.

Jongdae spotted the huge curtains right away and skipped towards it; and pulled them open, letting sunlight shine in the room.

A hiss could be heard at one corner of the room. Jongdae rolled his eyes.

"It seems you've been up all night, Madame Zmais."

Some crumpled paper fell from the study table while a body-less head groaned on it, eyes closed shut and nose crinkled, hating that sunlight is hitting it right on the face. It hissed, "Mieschiv! Clozze zeh curtainzzz, ma eyezz hurt!"

The head wriggled around on the table, pushing a few bottles and pen off it, and buried its face on a corner. "Clozze eet!"

Jongdae didn't, looked around the room, and asked, "Where's your body?"

"Clozze ze curtainzz!"

"Where's your body?" he repeated, pulling the sheet covers of the bed up. A headless body lay on the molding mattress and, looking at the spot where a head should be, seemed to have forcefully pulled its owner off of it. Jongdae snorted. "Ah, did 'ya have a fight with it, Madame?"

The head hissed, "Non ov ye' buizzzenezz, Mieschiv." It turned around to scowl at Jongdae, its already wrinkly face getting more wrinkles. He laughed at it rather than getting scared, hands already pulling on the headless body's arms to wake it up and get out of bed--but it got mad instead, kicking its waker right in the stomach.

Immediately, Jongdae doubled over, fell on his bottom, and winced in pain. "You piece of— Ow!"

The body had already gotten up, purposely stepping on Jongdae's hand as it made its way to the head on top of the table. He despised those two when they're not stuck together; the body was more aggressive without the head. He held his aching hand while glaring at Madame Zmais, head and body finally together. Sort of—the cut around the neck, separating both, was still there.

Madame Zmais was an old lady when her head and body were separated. Her face was filled with wrinkles and moles; her curly brown hair was unkempt and seemed to house insects; and a long, drooping moldy green cape hid her hunched back and body.

She placed two fingers on one end of the cut between her head and body, then slowly traced the cut while whispering a few words Jongdae couldn't quite hear (he'd always wanted to know what she chanted). And when her fingers reached the other end, a dark violet smoke appeared and enveloped her whole body (and the room, too).

"I hate this part," Jongdae coughed, covering his mouth and nose while helplessly fanning the smoke away with his other hand.

As the smoke dissipated, a small, young girl in a green shirt and jumper pants stood where Madame Zmais was. Her hair was wavy and of auburn color, tied neatly in a pony. Her lips formed an almost cynical smile and, with tiny fists held up in the air, the little girl screamed, "Finally!"

Still fanning the smoke away from him, Jongdae asked, "Finally what?"

The little girl turned her head to scowl at him, but quickly changed it to a smile instead (a creepy one, if you ask Jongdae), "Oh, well, perfected this form, my dear."

"Eugh. Don't call me 'dear', please. Your squeaky, little girl voice makes it even more worse than your usual voice, Madame."

Madame Zmais pointed a finger at her worker and then pointed it up, magically forcing Jongdae up in the air with his back hitting the ceiling very hard. "Look here my dear assistant," Her doe eyes squinted into slits while looking up at Jongdae. "I pay you to do work, not to complain. If I call you dear with that voice, then I can call you dear in any voice."

Closing her hand into a fist, Jongdae plummeted to the floor headfirst, expression bored because he already knew what was to happen. And with just an inch between the top of his head and the floor, Madame Zmais had a finger outstretched and twirled Jongdae around with his legs facing the ground. She let him go and he safely plopped on the floor with his feet.

"I want this room clean by the time the clock strikes one."

 

 

"I'm done, Ma'am."

"Papers?" Madame Zmais questioned.

"Crumpled and useless ones in the trash and the ones I think you still want are on the table."

"Bed?"

"Dirt dusted off, sheets folded, and pillows fluffed."

"Floor?"

"Swept."

Madame Zmais smiled, nodded her head, and shooed he assistant, signaling him to go do the rest of his job.

After stretching his arms, Jongdae was about the flip the sign hanging on the door from closed to open when a tiny hand banged on the door repeatedly. The young elf groaned, "Chanyeol, I swear," and opened the door.

Chamyeol was a small, shiny winged pixie that had eyes with no pupil, but instead had a silver sparkle right in the middle--continuously flickering from only one sparkle to two, or a whole lot more.  He was barely the size of a hand (well, Jongdae's hand to be precise) and wore a silver shirt and pants that glittered whenever any form of light was near. He didn't wear shoes or slippers, preferring to go barefoot ("It's better than wearing your hand-made shoes that make my feet sweat."). 

He zipped right in the shop, making sure to circle Jongdae's head before plopping right on the elf's messy hair. "Got any glitter to sell, pointy ears?"

"Of course there's none, just for you," Flicking the glittering fairy off his head, Jongdae grinned at Chanyeol, who was now face flat on moldy windowsill. "How many?"

"You always flick me off of your head. I like it up there--" Chanyeol frowned, straightening a bent wing, "Your hair smells like flowers. And, oh, five jars." 

"Mhm," Jongdae was already behind the counter, rummaging through drawers. "That's a lot. What're they for?"

The pixie fluttered towards one one of the displays on the counter, a figurine of a four-tailed cat, and sat on it. "I got a job."

Jongdae lifted his head from looking through one of the drawers in a second, staring at Chanyeol, surprised with the sudden confession. "You? A job? You're no longer training?"

The little pixie nodded his head, hugging one of the figurines tails.

"Holy— we should throw a party! This is great news!"

Chanyeol's cheeks flushed red and his his face behind the figurine's tail, embarrassed, "There's no need to. I'm merely helping a rich man fix a hex on one of his kids—forgot who he was, but his place is pretty far," He looked up at his friend's excited face, "Need all the glitter I can get, yeah?"

"Of course you do!" Jongdae checked all the cabinets and drawers in a flash, then finally found where the glitters were (in one of the boxes he had brought earlier). He pulled out five small jars (big enough for Chanyeol's size) and put them neatly in a small box.

Chanyeol hopped off the figurine and was about to pay Jongdae when he was suddenly stopped, a finger holding his hands back from getting some money. He looked up at Jongdae, confused.

"Oh, no, no, no, no. I'll pay for you." The elf shoved the box at Chanyeol, winking at the tiny pixie. "You can pay me back after you save up some coins from working."

Chanyeol hugged the box as much as his arms could and smiled up at his friend. This was his first job and Jongdae's doing so much for him already—he's done a lot for him even in the past, but this time it just made him appreciate having Jongdae as a friend even more.

"Thank you," The little pixie said, the ends of his eyes crinkling from the smile he's making, "Thank you so much. I'll pay you back. Promise."

A few minutes pass, Chanyeol finally says goodbye after chatting with Jongdae a little bit. While zipping out of the shop, he looked a lot more happier. Jongdae did too, the huge smile on his face proved it so.

"Aah, I'm so proud of that shiny runt— Ouch!"

Madame Zmais had gotten off of her chair and stepped on her assistant's foot without him noticing, a smug look on her face. She quickly jumped back before Jongdae could grab onto her ear.

"You little—Ahh," Jongdae held his throbbing foot, trying to massage the pain away, "Look, Madame, I know once you transform that you also change your mindset. I know you think like a child right now, but please Jesus don't hurt me."

She flicked a curl away from her face and scratched an itch on the back of her neck, looking uninterested. Her assistant groaned. "Sorry. Habits never die," Madame Zmais giggled, poking her nose for any boogers. "Anyway, I need to ask you a favour."

"Augh. What is it?" Jongdae sat on a stool, still holding onto his feet. Damn that kid stomped hard.

"Would you mind watching the shop for a few months? I'll pay you double once I'm back."

It took Jongdae a second before responding, the gears inside his head working up an answer to say. "Uh? A few months— how many are we talking about here?"

"About six months or more, maybe."

"No way." The elf replied flatly, his face contorted into a look of confusion. "I can't handle this shop for that long by myself! I wake up late, I'm messy, I get tired easily— I... I'm lazy!"

Madame Zmais cackled, "Oh, please. Jongdae. I already know that. Don't worry, I'll have someone help you out."

"Who?"

"You'll find out tomorrow morning." She flicked her wrist towards one of cupboards, opening it and making a mirror embezzled with different kinds of jewels float towards her hand.

"What? You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yep,"

Jongdae, for the first time in his life, felt a huge weight on his shoulders. And he didn't like that. Didn't like it at all.

 

 

With a smile, Miss ended her story which received groans from all the children sitting on the floor. One even lay on the ground, a clear protest that he didn't want the story to end.

"Oh, children, it's already past three o' clock." She reminded, "Your Mothers and Fathers might get worried. You wouldn't like that now, would you?"

The children replied with soft no's under their breaths.

"Good, then. Scurry on along to your homes!" Miss opened the door, patting each child's shoulder as one went out the door. It was her way of saying "Be safe,".

As Miss closed her front door, a child pulled on her skirt. She looked down to big, puppy eyes paired with a cute pout. Oh deary me, she thought. But still, she smiled at the child, who in turn tugged more at her skirt.

"Will you continue the story?" The child asked, with a hint of a lisp in her voice.

Miss sighed, "Deyadri pumpkin, that was the end."

"But-- but... that's not how a story ends! That's like the start of it, Miss!" Deyadri sniffed, her button nose turning red and tears formed in her eye. She still held onto Miss' skirt. "Would you continue it? Tomorrow?"

"Um," Miss looked away, unsure of how to answer. She wasn't the best at making up stories; her forte was reading stories, not making one on the spot. "I'll try to make..."

Deyadri looked up, hopeful.

"I mean— I'll write about it? Just for you. I'll finish it for you."

The little child squealed, clearly excited. Who wouldn't be? A story just for them? Duh.

"Okay!"

Miss grinned, patting the little girl on the back as she opened the door, "Go straight home, Deyadri."

"I will, Miss!"

Miss thought to herself, What have I made myself do? Oh dear,  and, finally, closed her front door.

 

 

 

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chapter one is up! : )
do you like it? share your thoughts in the comments. 
that'd be very, very appreciated. 
i'm sorry if it took, like, almost a year. i write like a turtle.
i'm slow. sorry.
anticipate the second chapter!