The Thief of magical stories

'The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.' Queen Justia of the very successful "Ye Olde Quaint Story Emporium", a city of magical story writers, was nowhere to be found. Someone must have snatched her sometime between "Storytide and Midnighthush", when the authors finally relinquished their pens, closed their eyes and slumbered, while dreaming of sugar plum stories and storks bearing babies made entirely of thousand dollar bills.

But Justia was not very far away, she was hiding in the Rapunzel Turret, way, way up high above the Emporium's dazzlingly high and breathtaking rooftop.

The queen was sure that someone was stealing stories and ideas from other authors when the midnight hush fell upon the Emporium, when magical powers closed their eyes and slumbered. She had every intention of finding out who it was, the writers had begun to notice that storytelling was amiss and contrary, they knew that all was not well in the land of words.

"There was only on rule here...NEVER STEAL ANOTHER"S STORY...ask and borrow with permission, or bestow ownership by attributing the writer's name quite clearly".

*

The Wrong-Side-Up river saw someone sneaking into the turret and in an effort to get a closer look, the stones, rocks and hotchpotch of crustacean, barnacle and fishlife tumbled over each other alarmingly. The river, in trying to right itself, became so discombobulated, it got completely confused and started to flow backwards.

Peeking surreptitiously out the window, the queen saw the river behaving rather curiously...it started flowing most unusually. "Strange", she though, a smile on her face.

That 'the river should run backwards on the day the Queen vanishes.', "now I wonder if that is a coincidence".

*

Next morning, the news spread within the city of the wonderful occurrence of their river flowing backwards...what a delight of a story that would make. All of the writers hurried to breakfast and sped to their respective writers aperture, each lit with the writers calming and creative colors.

Queen Justia's assistant Hytha, tending to her early chores, found a note pinned on the door.

"We have your queen, to get her back, you must fulfill our demands".

The terrified assistant quickly spread the news. Pandemonium broke out, they all pondered the possibility of harm being done to the queen's person, without the beloved queen, what would happen to their stories. Who would dare to perpetrate such a dastardly deed. Everyone waited with bated breaths for the demands.

But none came!

Queen Justia herself had left the note, hoping that with her gone, the thief of stories would happily seize the opportunity to pillage and filch to their hearts content.

Two days passed and all was quiet, not a ransom was demanded and up in the turret, which came equipped with magical kitchen, bath, wardrobe and a loo, Justia watched the river flowing backwards with glee. Not a pilferer did she espy, still, she waited patiently, while devising new ways to publish great magical and non-magical stories and finding a deep chasm in which to ignite the abundance of blatantly unedited AI stories.

On the third night, the Stay Awake Crystal Ball glowed ominously, it had been connected to the hidden duplicate crystal ball inside the Emporium, and there, all cloaked and unrecognizable, was the stealer of stories. The figure glanced around furtively, tip-toeing in true cartoon motions as he/she despoiled the sanctity of the magical place.

Stories and characters whizzed happily through the air, all gleefully diving into the magic bags of the cunning thief.

The crystal ball could see into the soul of the thief. It knew exactly who it was. But before it could bid the sentinel vines to bind the thief, he/she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Queen Justia could not believe who the thief was. But why? She could see no reason why this person would do such a horrible thing to their peers. There must be a very good reason and she intended to find out what it was.

The following night she requested that crystal ball do nothing except record the thievery. Justia was sorry to put her subjects to such worry, fuss and frustration, but they would eventually understand.

She donned the Cloak of Invisibility and waited. As the thieving deed was done and the thief puffed her smoke, Justia enveloped herself in the mist and away she went with the unsuspecting looter of stories.

The river silently watched the carryings-on at the Emporium, musing while it flung the fish this way and that. The salmon was quite happy to relax and be carried along on the river's new flow.

Who will be the villain of the story, will it be the many time awarded author Glorystone, the dastardly handsome Lamarre, the mischievous MickDred, the enigmatic Sheyna, bad boys Paulo and Rommal, the lovely Typhania, or the new comers Catlyn and Cinder, or is it Grzzly the wanderer. Could it be Nova, who had been mysteriously missing for some time now, or perhaps Captain Storm, the kind smooth talker.

It could be any of the other many and wonderful magical writers. Who had sold their soul, and Why?

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