Amelia and the Sparkle Queen
Chapter Five: The Skeptic, The Sidekick, and The Sparkle Queen
Amelia Jean Stratton had a lot of questions about life lately.
Why did math have to involve so many numbers? Why did Iris feel the need to narrate her every waking thought like she was the star of her own preschool reality show? And most importantly, why did Spark insist on sitting in the fruit bowl?
“Spark, get out of there,” Amelia said, pointing her spoon at the unicorn currently curled up like a cat on the counter, her mane trailing into the bananas.
Spark yawned dramatically. “I was promised a throne of gold, but this ceramic fruit vessel will suffice for now.”
Dad walked into the kitchen, holding his coffee mug. He paused, staring at Spark, then glanced at Amelia. “Is that… a unicorn? Or am I just really tired?”
Amelia froze. This was it. The moment she’d been dreading. How do you explain a cosmic, size-shifting unicorn to your dad before he’s had his caffeine?
Before she could answer, Spark casually shrank to the size of a housecat. “Good morning, mortal father figure. Delightful weather we’re having.”
Dad stared at her, then looked at his coffee. “I think I need to switch to decaf.”
Mom breezed in, adjusting her purse strap. “Did anyone else notice the spaghetti all over the driveway?”
Elias popped his head into the kitchen, his face bright with enthusiasm. “That’s not spaghetti. That’s scientific progress.”
Amelia smirked. “More like short-stack progress.”
Elias glared. “You’re barely taller than me, Amelia.”
“And yet,” Amelia said, leaning on the counter with mock pity, “I am taller.”
Mom sighed. “Can’t we have one morning without chaos?” She looked directly at Spark, now attempting to nap inside the fruit bowl. “And who invited the unicorn?”
“She’s part of the chaos package,” Amelia mumbled.
Spark perked up. “I prefer to think of myself as the sparkle upgrade.”
Sparkle Shenanigans
The day started like any other: Amelia trying to manage Spark’s antics while Elias grew increasingly skeptical.
“Okay, Spark,” Amelia said as they walked to the bus stop, “we need a plan for today. No glitter explosions, no magical ‘enhancements,’ and definitely no making my teacher’s coffee float again.”
Spark, now walking at Amelia’s side at a perfectly normal horse size, flicked her tail. “Amelia Jean, where’s the fun in that?”
“The fun,” Elias interrupted, lugging his backpack, “is in not getting detention. Again.”
“Detention is a construct,” Spark declared, tossing her shimmering mane.
Amelia tried not to laugh. She was starting to realize Spark’s ridiculous ideas were way more fun than they had any right to be.
“What about Iris?” Spark asked. “Can I stop by preschool again? Those tiny humans truly appreciate my majesty.”
“No,” Elias said firmly. “Preschool can’t handle another ‘incident.’”
“I don’t know,” Amelia said, grinning. “Pajama day would probably love some cosmic flair.”
Elias spun on his heel. “Amelia, you’re supposed to be the responsible one!”
“Am I, though?” Amelia replied, smirking.
Spark laughed, a sound like a wind chime that had swallowed a karaoke machine. “Oh, Elias. You doubt me now, but someday, you’ll be begging for my assistance.”
“Doubt you?” Elias snorted. “You turned our trampoline into a portal to the neighbor’s yard!”
“You’re welcome,” Spark said proudly.
The Great Pajama Parade
When Iris found out Spark wasn’t going to preschool, she staged a protest.
“No unicorn, no snacks!” she declared, crossing her arms.
“Iris,” Mom said patiently, kneeling to her level, “if you don’t eat your snacks, you’ll be hungry all day.”
“NO UNICORN, NO SNACKS!” Iris shouted louder, stomping her tiny foot.
Dad, now sipping what he called “emergency coffee,” muttered, “It’s like negotiating with a tiny union boss.”
Mom sighed. “Fine. Spark can go to preschool for an hour, but no magic. Got it?”
Spark saluted with one hoof. “Scout’s honor!”
At preschool, Spark immediately caused a stir. This time, she had shrunk down to Iris’s height and was wearing—of all things—a set of rainbow-striped pajamas that Amelia had hastily constructed out of an old pillowcase.
“I’m here for the festivities!” Spark announced, spinning in a circle.
The preschoolers lost their minds.
“SPARKLE!” one kid screamed, throwing crayons into the air like confetti.
Amelia watched from the corner, shaking her head. “This is going to end in glitter. I just know it.”
It didn’t take long. During storytime, Spark used her horn to make the pictures in the book actually move. The preschoolers were so enchanted that they demanded an encore, which led to Spark animating the craft table supplies.
By the time the teacher returned from her coffee break, the glue sticks were marching in formation, the scissors were doing synchronized dancing, and the googly eyes had declared themselves an independent nation.
Elias’s Skepticism Reaches New Heights
That evening, Elias was fuming.
“You’re enabling her,” he accused Amelia as they sat in the living room.
“Me?” Amelia said innocently. “Spark’s her own unicorn. I’m just here for the ride.”
Spark, now the size of a small dog, was lounging on the couch eating popcorn out of a mixing bowl. “Enabling is such a negative word. I prefer to think of it as inspiring.”
“Inspiring chaos,” Elias muttered.
“Chaos, creativity, potato, potahto,” Spark said with a shrug.
Amelia laughed. “Oh, come on, Elias. You have to admit she’s fun.”
“Fun doesn’t explain how the spaghetti catapult now has googly eyes,” Elias retorted.
“That,” Spark said, grinning, “was a gift from the nation of Googlyopia. They send their regards.”
Dad walked into the room, pointing toward the garage. “Okay, who’s responsible for the glitter trail by the car?”
Spark immediately shrank to hamster size and dove into the popcorn bowl.
Amelia and Elias exchanged a look.
“Probably Iris,” they said in unison.
Mom, overhearing from the kitchen, sighed. “We need to establish some ground rules for this family. Step one: No unicorns near the craft supplies.”
Amelia smirked. “Good luck enforcing that.”
The End (for now…)
Disclosure: These prose were written with the assistance of OpenAI’s ChatGPT 4o.