The Echo of Courage

Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs like a frantic woodpecker. The grumpy ghost, a shimmering outline of pure annoyance, was hovering over Mrs. Higgins, its wispy tendrils reaching for the memory of her prize-winning rhubarb pie. If that ghost nabbed that memory, Mrs. Higgins would forget the secret ingredient, and the annual pie contest would be a disaster. A silent, orderly disaster, of course, because that’s how things were done in Veridia.

“No!” Elara blurted, a sound so loud in the hushed village square it felt like a cannon blast. Heads swiveled. The Village Elder, a man whose frown could curdle milk, shot her a look that would freeze a volcano. Elara gulped. She’d promised herself she’d be more careful. But Mrs. Higgins’ pie! It was a matter of grave importance, even if no one else seemed to think so.

She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the rhubarb, the flaky crust, the faint scent of cinnamon. And then, with a pop that was definitely not silent, a memory burst forth. It wasn't Mrs. Higgins’ pie, though. Oh no. It was something much, much grumpier.