Free More Bones by Arielle North Olson Page A

follow that she didn’t even test the rope that held the bucket. She just climbed in and lowered herself down to the spot where the frog had disappeared. Luckily the old rope held. There on the side of the well she saw a small door—firmly closed—with an iron knocker in the shape of a scorpion.
    Instantly Sybil knew this must be the place “where the scorpion’s voice resounds.” She had found the door to the witch’s home. She was so excited she almost fell out of the bucket, but she made herself wait until she heard the witch snoring. Then she quickly twisted the iron scorpion off the door and put it into her leather pouch. It was harder to pull herself out of the well than it had been to lower herself in, but she tugged on the rope, hand over hand, until she reached the top. Then she raced back to the castle and hid the iron scorpion under her bed.
    At midnight an owl flew out of the moonlit forest. It swooped through the princess’s window and landed beside her. Sybil sat up and saw that its eyes were glowing. Much as she wanted to dive under the covers, she watched its head turn hideous and its feathers disappear. The owl became the Witch of the Woods. Sybil had expected her, but she still shrank back.
    â€œYou didn’t find my home,” the witch chortled. “So you and your first love will be mine.”
    â€œYou’re wrong,” said Sybil. Her hands were shaking, but she reached under the bed for the iron scorpion. “You live at the bottom of a well.”
    The witch stamped her foot. “I’ll get you yet,” she screeched, lunging for the princess with her sinewy arms outstretched. But Sybil was too quick. She threw the iron scorpion at the witch, just as the warmth from her hands brought it to life. It stung one of the witch’s gnarled fingers with its poisonous tail. The witch turned into stone and crashed to the floor. The scorpion turned back into iron.
    The princess wondered what had brought the scorpion to life. But she finally understood the rest of the witch’s clue. Not only did the scorpion’s voice resound in the well, the scorpion was bound by the witch’s spell—sometimes alive, and sometimes made of iron.
    Sybil climbed back into bed. Tomorrow she would get the servants to throw the stone witch into the well. But she decided to keep the scorpion. She tucked it under her pillow, not realizing that the warmth of her body was what brought it to life. As she slept there in her cozy bed, the scorpion began to stir.

Wishes Gone Awry
    SCOTLAND
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John thought Helen was the prettiest girl in the village, but she had no use for him. “Why would I marry a fisherman like you,” she asked, “when I could marry the lord of the manor?”
    John strode out of her house and down the steep path to the beach. He was too angry to see the spring flowers bursting into bloom or notice the soft breeze blowing in from the sea. But suddenly he stopped. What was that eerie sound—unlike anything he had ever heard before? It was almost as if the wind and the waves were singing a haunting melody.
    He crept along the path. A pebble, loosened by his foot, rattled down to the beach. Did the singer hear him coming? He stood listening—and the unearthly song continued.
    When he reached the bottom of the path, he slipped behind a boulder and peeked around one side. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end. There was a stranger there, singing that eerie song. She was half under the waves, tucking seashells and starfish into her long golden curls.
    How odd! John thought. But he was even more surprised by what she did next. She swam to the shore and flung herself up on a flat-topped rock— with a flip of her tail !
    So, mermaids were real, just as his grandmother had said so long ago. Her old stories flooded into his mind. “They’re a fickle lot,” she’d told him. “If they like you, they’ll