The Sixth Cursed Halloween

On Halloween night, Brad settles down to repot his Bonsai tree. After an argument with his girlfriend, he needs someone to talk to. He's not expecting the tree to talk back.

Surprise! Deidre’s cursed inside his bonsai tree. She's been curled up watching him for years. This conversation's the first she's had in centuries.

Brad tries to set her free, but at the end of the night, he loses the ability to hear the woman with the sexy brogue. He vows he'll do what it takes to get her out, wanting to know the woman behind the voice. He even has erotic dreams about the woman she might be, for the five long years he searches for the saving spell.

Deidre hates men. All of them. Or does she? Brad's such an earnest hunk, so determined to do right by her. Maybe they have some redeeming qualities - like a sexy, muscular chest.

On the sixth Halloween, a woman from Brad's life turns Deidre's world upside down. Literally. That's not a good thing for a potted tree. Now she's getting a choice: a life with Brad without her magic or back to the trees, but she can work her curses and take her revenge. What will she choose this sixth cursed Halloween?

Stuck into a tree owned by a man. Adam must be laughing his ass off.

Trapped. She’d been trapped for the past sixteen years in the fucking tree. And it showed no signs of dying.

Because Brad took such good care of the little plant.

He went about getting out some little strips. Then he scooped out soil with a small spoon and put in a test tube.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing the pH of the soil.”

“You are such a geek.” Amanda held her nose haughtily in the air. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

I don’t know why he puts up with you either. Deidre gasped at the thought. Was she taking Brad’s side over Amanda’s? Men were the scum of the earth. They were dogs.

Only Brad wasn’t.

How many women had she seen use Brad? Cheat on him? Seemed like every girlfriend he got did something that made Deidre cringe. It had been that way since high school.

Weren’t men supposed to be the ones doing the shitty things?

And Deidre wasn’t even punishing Brad. She couldn’t. Couldn’t let out one single curse to make him suffer.

The women were doing it to him all on their own. Something that should have made her happy, but she found herself discouraged by the actions of the fairer sex that were never fair.

Not that he seemed to suffer too much from what they’d done. His favorite emotion toward the women he dated seemed to be aggravation. He wasn’t a pushover. Had balls and wasn’t afraid to use them. Like now.

Case in point.

“I don’t know why I put up with you either. In fact…” Brad pointed with a hand. “Leave your key on the table. And don’t let the door hit you in the ass.”

He’d put up with the women he dated for a while. God knew why because Deidre didn’t. Unless it was the sex. He did like to have sex. Often. When he didn’t, well, he wasn’t afraid to use his hand. But, eventually something would happen in his relationships done by the women, and he’d kick them to the curb.

“You…asshole. You aren’t serious.”

“Go to the party. Screw ’em all.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Like being with me would stop you from that.”

She let out another of those high-pitched noises that set Deidre’s teeth on edge. “You are going to regret this. I’ll walk out and never look back.”

“Leave your key.” He studied the pH strip he’d taken.

She stormed out the house, slamming the door and knocking a picture off the wall, shattering the frame. It had been hung by a previous girlfriend.

“Never did like that picture.” He walked over and cleaned up the glass, sticking the whole thing in the trash can. He sighed, finishing his attention to the bonsai by watering it deeply and thoroughly.

Then, he popped open a beer and sat beside the pot in a dining room chair. “What’s wrong with me?”

Deidre could offer a litany of things that were wrong with him. Too bad he’d never hear her.

He didn’t look upset. Or sad. Only perplexed. “What’s perplexing you?”

“I don’t feel anything. My girlfriend walks out and I feel nothing.” He downed a sip. “A girlfriend who wanted to do every man with a pulse. Which again, didn’t bother me. I wasn’t even jealous. It’s like…I’m dead inside.”

“You ought to try being a tree.” How many times had she died now? And living this way was no better than dying and starting over. She’d never get big enough to get out. She’d be trapped inside this one tree until Brad died, more than likely. The care he took was methodical and invasive. He’d never let this plant perish.

“A tree would be better than what I’m doing now.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his head on the top.

“Yeah, well, trade places with me.”

“I would. Only who’d take care of me?” He lifted his drink again.

Deidre straightened up in the pot at his offhand comments. They were almost as if they were in response to what she’d said. But that was impossible. Her feelers went out. Searched the apartment and Brad. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. This couldn’t be happening. She had to test it out. “Elephants are pinky and blue.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute.

She relaxed. She’d been imagining things. Had to have been. There was no way that Brad could hear what she was saying.

“Last time I checked, elephants were gray, not pinky and blue. What kind of a color is pinky? I don’t even remember Amanda mentioning that one.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Where did that come from?” He took another long draft from his beer. “How to know when you’ve finally lost it? When you talk to your bonsai tree and imagine it’s talking back.”

Her feelers went straight again.

It was true.

Brad could somehow hear her thoughts. How on fucking earth could this be?

Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
Where Sensuality and Wonder collide
The future's never been so sexy

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