Flash Fiction: Where’s My Sand, Witch?

“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Lul pushed strands of seaweed from her eyes and smiled reassuringly up at her customer. “It’s ‘sandwich shop’, not ‘sand witch shop’—Silent ‘t’, see?”

The skeleton looked at the sandwiches on Lul’s cart, sockets glowing. “You stupid? Nobody eats around here. Now where’s my sand sculpture?”

Shame pricked Lul’s cheeks as she flicked her tail, conjuring a twisting edifice from the sand. “There you go,” she said thickly. “Good luck with the contest.”

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