The Barometer 

A Story By Thelma Mary Caroline

It looked like a normal barometer, sitting proudly on the mantel.  It was polished and laquered, the top made of solid brass.  The white dial had beautiful black numbers and little glass crystals that seemed the sparkle.

Everyone would look, but they must never touch.  The adults would alway marvel at it's beauty, and the children would wonder how it always knew what the weather was like.

No one knew, except the old lady who owned it, that it was not a normal barometer.

Once it had been bulid by a peasant by the name of Lewis for a great wizard, Mudwin of the Blue Luminary, who had charmed the device and used it to control the weather, not minding the consequences.

For every compleate turn of the dial, Mudwin lost one year of his life.  Within a few weeks of charming the object, he was dead.

The little old lady didn't believe the story, of course, though she told all the children to scare them from touching her precious heirloom.

She was careful, though, to never accidently bump the piece herself.

Better safe than sorry.

"Interesting," Capp said.  "This is the most horrible thing I've ever read."

"What?  It's a story!"

"As told by one of your characters?"  His eyes narrowed.

"What?  It's even got a moral!"

"All right, Eliza.  Pretend it's a story for little kids, then."