WHITE MOUNTAIN
Euphonia Gasp stormed into the witch’s cottage and flung a worn out shoe against the wall. Then she flung another worn out shoe against the other wall. The witch glanced up from her sewing and smiled.
‘I take it you haven’t succeeded in finding White Mountain,’ said the witch.
‘No. There’s no such thing. You lied. I found Pink Mountain, Blue Mountain, even Yellow And Black Striped Mountain. You lied. The White Mountain treasure does not exist. You lied, you liar,’ said Euphonia Gasp.
Fortunately for Euphonia, the witch was amused, and in her eyes the merriest of twinkles danced.
‘Tut, tut, tut, my dear,’ said the witch. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I will repair your shoes and give you a hint.’
So saying, the witch waved her right hand, the one holding needle and thread, in a complicated pattern as if she was leading an orchestra into battle. The flung worn out shoes leaped fully repaired to Euphonia and bounced off her stomach.
‘Oof,’ said Euphonia, and she stepped into the newly lovely shoes. ‘What’s the hint?’
‘Treasure is found when least you look. Bind your fortune to a long lost book,’ said the witch.
‘That’s it. That’s the clue?’ said Euphonia, and she barely suppressed the urge to remove and fling her shoes. Instead, she turned and left the cottage, muttering, ‘Long lost book, long lost book.’
‘Wow. She fell for it again. I can’t believe it,’ said the witch’s cat, sliding out from behind the sewing basket. ‘Why do you keep torturing her year after year?’
‘I’m a witch. It’s what I do,’ said the witch, and she hummed a happy tune as she returned to her sewing.
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