Flash Fiction #135: Enchanted, I'm Sure

 




     Norman, who was never the brightest rock in the box, had picked up the big limb in the forest and though nothing of it until the ogres arrived. It had been a good piece of wood he could cut up for firewood, so he dragged the long, extremely worn piece of wood away from the pile of bones (there were always bones in the forest) and to the cabin where he and his two sisters and brother