Free Cat-astrophic Spells by Harper Lin Page A

lights before us. The trailers were nothing like the trailers at the front of the Wishing Well that faced the road. Those trailers had roots in a way. The people who lived in the front trailers had flowerbeds and even cement stairs leading up to their homes. I’d seen a tool shed or two and a few gazing balls. Statues of St. Francis, wind chimes, and sun catchers made the place look homey and attractive. A person driving by might think the homes didn’t fit the stereotype of a trailer park. They looked clean, pretty, and proper. But when someone got to the back of the park where we were, he would see where reality lived.
    Three trailers were huddled together under the sickly green light. The trailers looked like members of the same gang, all of them beat up with dents and scratches. Two of the three trailers were most likely breaking the rules as they were supported by cinder blocks and what looked like plastic milk crates. Lit up from the inside, the windows displayed either dirty curtains drawn tightly shut, a trash bag, or thick towels preventing anyone from seeing in or out.
    “This isn’t where we want to be,” Marshmallow said, stopping in front of me. She raised her head, her whiskers twitching wildly, then crouched back down on her belly. “But we aren’t far. Something is up ahead.”
    I looked where Marshmallow was looking. More trailers were lit by sickly green light. The lampposts were in just as bad a shape as the rest were.
    Staying within the safety and confines of the trees, we skirted along the perimeter. The pitiful light from the trailer park cast menacing shadows all around us, but I was able to see, which made me calmer. It was a big park, and I began to think it was a bad idea to go snooping around.
    But this wasn’t really snooping, right? I wasn’t peeking in windows or listening to conversations. That was snooping. I was just… exploring, trying to map out the lay of the land so I could snoop around later.
    “There. Up ahead. Do you see that glow?” Marshallow asked.
    I looked and squinted but saw nothing.
    “It’s coming from the middle of that row,” Marshmallow said. “We’ve got to go in there.”
    I looked around, listening and scanning the shadows for any kind of movement, any hint that someone was watching us. But there was nothing.
    “Stick to the shadows, and lead the way,” I said, watching Marshmallow morph from the lounging butterball of purring fur to a svelte predator on a mission.
    We quietly and carefully slunk along the sides of the trailers, moving in between generators and storage pods until we got to where Marshmallow had seen the glow. I saw no glow. I only saw a dark trailer. It wasn’t menacing like the three at the ass-end of the park, but it wasn’t a showpiece like the ones at the entrance either.
    It was simple—a white trailer, no wind chimes, no decorations on the lawn, wooden steps leading to the entrance. As I stood in the shadows, I realized I was starting to feel ill, as if something I had eaten was fussing deep in my gut. I swallowed hard and tried to shove it away.
    “That’s the house that’s glowing?” I managed to say to Marshmallow but got no response. I assumed she was busy studying the terrain. Perhaps something else had caught her eye. I took a step closer to the trailer and again felt a wave of nausea settle over me. My skin was becoming cold and hot at the same time. I shivered, but I was also sweating. I couldn’t imagine what I could have eaten that would hit me like that.
    After a few deep breaths, I began to feel better. I took a few steps closer to the plain, little trailer in the middle of the park.
    A bunch of mason jars set on the steps leading to the front door. As I looked closer, I could see they had something in them. The jars held a yellow liquid and some odds and ends I couldn’t make out. I counted eight jars on the steps, and to my surprise, they were in the windows, too.
    I tried to inch a little closer but stopped