Alone in the barn stall. Thank the gods. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing him today. He would’ve been the laughingstock of the kingdom.
The old farmer stared at the cheap spiraled horn at his feet. An obvious fake but it had seemed so real in the moonlight.
He watched his newly acquired horse devour another bushel of carrots, its coat of white paint already wearing thin. He had paid dearly for wonder but received only trickery in return.
He was a proud, hardworking man and had been completely humiliated.
All because he sought magic at a bargain…
The Weekday One Hundred 