She took one of the mysterious seeds and tossed it into the gopher hole. It made a whispery, skittery sound, like a pebble rattling down a drain. She threw in the next two, then turned back to her sister, glaring.
“There!” she said, “I’ve planted your stupid seeds.”
Bethany nodded. “Good. Now we wait,” she whispered. “It shouldn’t be long.”
Hailey groaned. “Who gave you the right to trade my nail polish for something so stupid?”
“The lady wanted it. Besides, you never used it. You don’t even like purple.”
Before Hailey could answer, the ground under her feet shifted and she had to grab Bethany to keep from falling as the tremors grew, snapping the park’s elms and ashes like popsicle sticks.
From the gopher hole sprang three green vines, lengthening and widening before their eyes until they dwarfed the remaining trees.
“Bethany!” a voice called.
Hailey watched in amazement as a woman came sliding down. She was clothed from head to toe in violet silk.
“You are right, Bethany,” the woman whispered, looking Hailey up and down. “Your sister is perfect.”
As she reached out a hand, Hailey’s jaw dropped. The lady’s fingernails were painted a flawless purple.
Mary Witzl, from Dumfries & Galloway, Scotland, loves writing and telling stories, and hopes to get a book published one day. She writes us that, "Writing for children, I am convinced, is the most satisfying -- and the most challenging."
© 2008 Mary Witzl. Original for CCF (Witzl grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology).
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