A Misfitting Secret

Sneak Peek at Enchanter Detective (First Case #2)




Po-Po-Poffee!? (The Bachelors Investigation, Part 2)

As you try to hide your biggest secret from your co-workers, you are on the verge of losing your job when your nemesis threatens to reveal your secret to everyone.

Categories: Ongoing Short Stories, Adventure, Fantasy, Romance, Fairy Tale, Magic, Humorous.

Publication Date : December 2nd, 2015


The president does not glance at you or acknowledge your presence, either because he is too busy reading his parchment or because he enjoys ignoring you. Therefore, as you wait for him to initiate the conversation, you nervously tap the floor with your right foot. Please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me.

“Miss Hopkins,” speaks the president in a monotone tone, unaffected by your noticeable nervousness, “please stop hitting the floor.”

You instantly obey his command. Please don’t fire me!

He finally puts down his spell-driven feathered pen on the desk, and leans back in his chair while he brings his hands together under his chin. Then, he gazes at you. Intently. His look arouses an awkward and uncomfortable feeling within yourself. It always does. A feeling that he possesses the ability to explore and scrutinize the depth of your soul. You cannot look into his eyes any longer, thus you enjoy the house-city’s scenery through the open twin doors.

“Miss Hopkins?”

“Yes, that’s me! Skyra Hopkins. At your service, sir.” Stop talking already, Skyra!

“Conductor,” he corrects you bluntly.

“Of course. Conductor, sir. Cough, cough. Please don’t fire me!” you blur out, sitting at the edge of your seat as you plead for your own survival in this world where magic is worth everything.

“And, why would I do that exactly?” he questions you, seriousness conquering his senses.

“Why would I be in here, otherwise, if it weren’t for my imminent lay off?” you explain, digging your own grave with your insensitive sense of humour.

“Why do you always end up in my office, Miss Hopkins?”

“Because you like my work?” you guess, shrugging at your faked obliviousness.

He raises an eyebrow. “Your… work?” he repeats, incredulous. “You serve coffee and prepare meetings.”

“So?” you interject with a sulking face. “I really need this job!”

“If you really need this job, Miss Hopkins, perhaps you should start showing to this job on time? This is not your first warning. I’m afraid that, if you arrive late again, or if you show another unprofessional behavior, I’ll have to fire you. Consider this warning your last. Understand?” he warns you with an untouchable severity that keeps impressing wiser and more experienced gentlemen.


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