I’m buying next time. –Mr. Raccoon.
I stared at the Chinese food menu in my hand, rereading that single line over and over again. Bad handwriting in bright red ink. A picture of Peking duck circled in the same pen. And a million unspoken words and questions.
I’m buying next time.
He was coming back. He’d told Pipaluk he would, and that he’d explain everything to me when he did. And Pipaluk never lied. The tale he’d related to me was more far-fetched and ridiculous than anything I’d ever heard the mad scientist utter, but I knew it was the truth.
Or at least, he thought it was the truth.
I groaned and dropped the menu on the kitchen table, propping my elbows up on the surface and hiding my face in my hands. Just when I thought I was over it. Just when I thought I could walk away, move on, put it behind me. He had to interfere now, when I thought I’d finally buried the doubts and questions and fears beneath a solid layer of dirt.
But it wasn’t dirt. It was sand. Fine-grained, light, unstable, blown away with a single puff of air.
Starting with a pine cone.
His voice was an echo in my mind, swirling round and round with that stupid guru bit he tried when we met, the stupider argument about Chinese food, all the nonsense and wisdom in between. I slammed my hands down on the table, scattering the memories as I stood. This wasn’t working. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go through this again.
Starting with a pine cone.
He’d never explained that statement.
I shoved my front door open and stormed out into the Arctic freeze. Biting cold wind stung my cheeks, carrying snowflakes in swirling patterns across the expansive white blanket. Somebody shouted my name; probably Crystal. Probably surprised to see me outside. As a rule, I stayed inside, out of sight, out of reach, safe from the unknown and the chaotic. But inside wasn’t safe anymore.
Temper, temper.
The wind whipped my black hair around my face. I tucked it behind my ear and kept going, away from the houses, away from the suffocating magic prickling my skin. It was messy, a jumble of snowflakes belonging to Crystal, Boris, Aunt Gemma, the warlock next door who liked to watch NASCAR, and all the other snow magicians, dancing and twisting together above ice riddled with magic signatures, no rhyme or reason to any of it. The barrier I’d installed around my house kept it all out and kept me sane, but there was no protection outside, and with my emotions running high, I felt it more strongly than usual.
He probably would have understood. He’d understood my magic in a way nobody else had, not even Mother. And that, more than anything else, was the reason I had been so quick to trust him.
Lily, breathe.
Everything he taught me still worked.
I ripped off the glove covering my right hand, clenching the dark blue leather in my left fist. The magic came roaring toward my bare hand, a flurry of white following me as I walked, drawn to the ice pulsing through my veins. I curled my hand into a fist and then opened it wide in one quick movement, splaying my fingers and sending the white scattering miles away in all directions.
That would buy me an hour of peace.
Slower. Deeper. In, out. In, out.
I took a long, deep breath, slowing my pace in the now clear polar night. No wind, no snow flurries in the crisp, cold air, just the darkness that wouldn’t lift until late March over miles and miles of empty sea ice.
I’d trusted him.
I still trusted him.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? That was the reason I hadn’t told the police about him, even when they arrested me for attempted murder. Even when Crystal showed Ivan the video where the raccoon commandeered my magic to attack Boris, even when Crystal showed me the bookmark with purple magic tainting the white of my enchantment, I hadn’t said a word. I couldn’t believe he’d betray me like that.
Pipaluk’s bizarre recounting of time-travel and possible demonic activity, unseen by normal means, felt more truthful than all of that. It made sense in a way nothing else could. Even though it was nonsensical, even though I knew it was much more likely that the raccoon had magically tricked Pipaluk into believing a lie.
She called me “Mr. Raccoon.” I guess that’s good enough.
Mr. Raccoon.
I laughed aloud. The polar silence took the sound and whisked it away into nothingness.
I’d always hated the sting of everybody else’s magic, but I loved the climate here. The oddity of an entire world below the snow and below the ice, encapsulated in a bubble of ice and dead magic, felt right and natural. It was just the live, active magic above the sea ice that was a problem. The unseen world unfelt by everybody except me.
I sat cross-legged on the ice and pulled the glove from my left hand, dropping it with the right glove in my lap. Specks of ice gathered on my fingertips, glittering crystals falling from my hands.
No effort. No magical expenditure. No depletion of the torrent rushing through my veins.
Nobody understood this. But everybody said I lacked control. He’d said that, too.
I believed him.
Starting with a pine cone.
I closed my eyes, took a breath, and envisioned a pine cone. Wider at the base, narrower at the top, layers of overlapping scales opening like flower petals. A female cone. The male cones were smaller and less impressive. And the cone I envisioned, the typical image that came to mind, was mature and open to release its seeds, which meant the weather was dry.
I’d done some research after the police released me, wondering if the secret lay within Wikipedia. I still didn’t know what, if anything, any of this have to do with my magic. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe he’d made it up.
I took another deep breath and opened my eyes. It danced in the air before me, a glistening fabrication knit from magic, imagination, and ice. A pine cone. Just a pine cone. Nothing special about it. I’d done this before with other objects. I held out my right hand, and it came to rest on my palm the same way the magic in town came to me.
“What’s that?”
I shrieked in surprise and sent the pine cone flying toward the unknown voice without a thought. Judging by the shout of pain behind me, it made contact well before I’d jumped to my feet and spun to face the speaker.
“Ouch! Call it off!”
The man lay crumpled on the ice, curled up in a ball to protect his face as the ice pine cone pelted him from all sides. A snow warlock, judging by his size and relatively thin clothing. Santa’s elves didn’t appreciate the cold the way snow magicians did.
“Ouch! Ouch! I’m sorry! Just make it stop!”
“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” I held out my hand again, and the pine cone came obediently to rest upon my palm.
The warlock held his position for a moment before slowly uncurling, peeking through his fingers at me warily. “Is it safe?”
“Uh, yes, sorry. I, um…you startled me.”
“Obviously.” He stood, dusting snow from his jeans and rubbing his forehead. A conspicuous red mark lit up his fair skin like a red dot on an Indian woman’s forehead.
What was that called? I’d need to Google that later.*
“Bet nobody ever throws you a surprise party, huh?” he commented, cracking a smile.
I stared at him. He looked a lot like Ivan, the police officer who had arrested me seven months ago, but his smile was brighter. More genuine. Even though I’d just attacked him with an ice pine cone.
Then again, he wasn’t arresting me for attempted murder. A pine cone was nothing compared to that.
“Um…actually, I’ve had surprise parties before…”
“Really? How many casualties?”
Why was he suddenly so relaxed? And walking toward me? Did I need to get the pine cone ready again?
“I, um…who are you?”
“You don’t recognize me?” His face fell, but then he shrugged his shoulders and smiled again. “I guess it’s not so weird. You’re never outside. I’m your neighbor, Evan. Nice to meet you.”
I looked down at his outstretched hand and back at his green eyes. “Um…nice to meet you, too,” I mumbled, switching the pine cone to my left hand so I could give him a quick shake with my right before taking a step back. “Did you follow me?”
His eyes stayed on my hands. “Did you know you’re…leaking? Or…what…are you doing?”
“Um, it’s just, um…just a minute.” I turned away from him quickly, scanning the ice and snow for my gloves. The dark blue stuck out among the white well enough. I pulled them back on and turned back to him, asking hastily, “What was it you wanted?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, his eyes lingering on my now gloved hands for another moment before returning to my face. He gave me an apologetic grin and rubbed the back of his neck. “This probably seems weird, doesn’t it? Well, I’m actually a police officer. I’m sure you remember my cousin, Ivan? He’s off duty today, but that raccoon turned itself in at the police station, and I thought you should know.”
The revelation of his relation faded into the background as his last words echoed in my mind. My heart was pounding again, harder than when he startled me, drowning out whatever he said next. I saw his mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear him. The raccoon was back. Mr. Raccoon, or whatever his real name was. To tell me the truth.
Did I want to know the truth?
Could I handle the truth?
What if it had been me?
It had been my magic. My enchantment. I’d made that bookmark. I’d given it to Boris. I’d added the lasso mere hours before it went haywire and attacked him. It didn’t matter what Crystal or Ivan said. It had been mine. The raccoon had guided me through the process, but he hadn’t added his magic at all, at least not at that time. I knew better than anyone else what magical interference felt like, and I hadn’t felt it then.
But I had felt the lasso tightening around Boris’ throat later. It had woken me up in the middle of the night. Because it had still been my magic, and it had still been active, and I had felt every excruciating moment of his struggle against it.
I'd told no one about that part.
“Lily? Lily?”
Suddenly, Evan’s hands were on my shoulders, holding me steady as his concerned green eyes peered into mine. The pine cone had shattered into a million pieces on the sea ice.
“I need to see him,” I said, my voice hoarse.
Evan’s smile was gone. He pursed his lips and said, “Maybe that isn’t—”
“I need to see him,” I repeated.
He studied me for a moment longer, and then he nodded reluctantly and let me go. “If you’re sure.”
I rushed in a daze back to town, but walking into the police station snapped me back to reality. It made my skin crawl. I had to remind myself to breathe as I clenched and unclenched my fists, tensing to ensure there were no cuffs on my wrists. My anxiety only grew as Evan led me to the interrogation rooms. I wasn’t the criminal this time. I hadn’t been last time.
Or had I?
You weren’t.
“You!”
All hesitation fled at the sensation of his voice in my head. I pushed past Evan and burst into the interrogation room, surprising the blonde police officer sitting across the table from that darn raccoon. The offending creature twitched his whiskers and flicked a brown-furred ear, the only parts of his anatomy visible above the edge of the table.
Hello to you, too.
“You’re interrupting an—”
“Why did you disappear?” I raged, interrupting the interrogating officer.
Evan grabbed my wrist, but icicles burst from my skin and stabbed his hand. He yelped and released me.
Lily, you need to calm down.
“What in the name of Jack Frost is happening?” Evan asked.
“Oh, so you’re keeping this between us? Not letting anybody else hear our conversation? Are you trying to make me look crazy?” I stabbed an accusatory finger in the raccoon’s chest. “You set me up!”
Do you really believe that?
“Is that raccoon talking in my head?”
“Mine, too…”
“Tell them!” I shouted over the confused policemen now crowding the open door. “Tell them what really happened!”
The raccoon’s black eyes met mine evenly. He twitched his nose and swished his tail.
It wasn’t your fault, and that’s all I can say.
It was just like before. Just like sitting on my bed, arguing about Chinese food. As if nothing had happened and no time had passed. I felt the anger drain with the tension from my shoulders, and I sighed heavily. “Why can’t you ever give me a straight answer?”
I wouldn’t be much of a mentor if I did that, now, would I? He climbed onto the table and sat on his haunches, swishing his bushy, striped tail back and forth. But while I’d love to pick up where we left off, I’m actually not even supposed to be here right now, so our next lesson will have to wait.
“Wait a minute. Where are the cuffs? Why isn’t he handcuffed?” Evan demanded.
“The smallest cuffs we have are for Santa’s elves, and they’re too big for his paws,” the interrogating officer explained.
Handcuffs for Santa’s elves. Now, isn’t that sad? I guess there’s a bad apple in every bunch. Well, I said I was buying. What do you want?
I took the seat the raccoon had just vacated. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
Yep.
“Close that door,” Evan ordered. “The magic barrier for this room should—”
Yeah, no, but that’s a cute thought, the raccoon interrupted him. Even if you had cuffs that were the right size for me, there’s no limiting my magic. Same order as last time, Lily?
I shrugged helplessly.
Moo goo gai pain, moo shu shrimp, crab rangoon, egg rolls, and sweet donuts, it is. Hey, Red, that means there’ll be plenty for you, too. Make sure she gets home safe, okay?
“‘Red?’ My name is Evan, and you’re not going—”
Keep working on the pine cone thing. There’ll be a test next time.
And then he was gone.
I stared at the now empty table as police officers swarmed the room and then fanned out to search the police station. It was pointless. He wasn’t here anymore. Maybe he wasn’t even in this dimension anymore. I didn’t know. I never knew with him.
But I felt better somehow.
I stood and walked past the dumbfounded blonde officer to the door. “I’m going home.”
“Wait! I have to do some paperwork—”
“She isn’t in any state for questioning,” Evan intervened. “I’ll walk her home and fill you in tomorrow. Let’s go, Lily.”
Thankfully, that worked. The blonde officer stepped aside, as did the rest of the police officers, rushing about in a state of panic throughout the station, and Evan and I left in silence. When we reached my house, I left the door open, and he followed me inside. The Chinese food was waiting on the kitchen table.
“So…you gonna explain that?” he finally asked.
There was nothing to explain. I had no explanation. “Chopsticks or fork?”
He sighed and dropped into a seat. “Fork.”
The food was still hot, obviously a work of magic in the icebox of my house. I took the moo shu, he took the moo goo gai pan, we each took an egg roll, and silence fell again.
“My parents wanted to name me Ivan, but he was born first, and his parents stole the name. So, Evan.”
I looked at him across the table, studying his bland expression. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He shrugged. “It’s more interesting than sitting here, talking about nothing, and it usually comes up in conversation eventually. I figured I may as well get it out of the way.”
“O…kay…” I picked up a piece of crab rangoon, wondering why I let him into my house. No conversation was just fine with me.
“But if you’d rather talk about what just happened, why don’t we start with how long you’ve known that creepy raccoon?”
I didn’t want to talk about what just happened, or anything else, so I bit into the crab rangoon to buy myself some time. My argument with said raccoon regarding his creepiness flashed through my mind, and I smiled. “Not creepy. Cute. And we met two days before I was arrested.”
Evan tilted his head to the side. “And you didn’t think to mention that at the time?”
“I thought about it.”
He sighed and picked up a sweet donut. “I don’t understand you,” he muttered.
I dropped my eyes to the half-eaten crab rangoon in my hand. “Nobody does.”
“Try me.”
I looked up at him again. Bright green eyes, bright red hair—he and Ivan could have been twins. Except Ivan was probably at Crystal’s house for one of their non-dates, and Evan was here for a…non-date?
“What do you think of Crystal?” I blurted out.
He furrowed his brow, probably confused by the random question. “She’s bossy and more than a little intimidating, but at least she doesn’t attack me with pine cones.”
“Is that a problem?”
What was I saying? It almost sounded like—
He smiled. “Are you saying you want to see me again?”
That darn raccoon.
“...Maybe.”35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBMxxRm78Ou
*Please excuse any perceived cultural insensitivity from Lily. She’s a snow witch who’s lived her entire life in the North Pole or Nebraska, and while Santa’s elves are very culturally aware, snow magicians like to keep to themselves. (It’s called a ‘bindi,’ by the way.) 35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxuy80p1b3q
Date of creation: 02/26/2025
Word count (excluding disclaimer paragraph): 3,000
Author’s note: I had to choose from multiple prompts and write a short story between 500 and 3,000 words. There was no genre requirement. I selected prompt #1: Your chance encounter starts with a misunderstanding but later ends into a different outcome.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf63jsz0p2U
