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    Puckish Behavior: A Wyrd Systers Story: Wyrd Sisters
    Puckish Behavior: A Wyrd Systers Story: Wyrd Sisters
    Puckish Behavior: A Wyrd Systers Story: Wyrd Sisters
    Ebook52 pages41 minutes

    Puckish Behavior: A Wyrd Systers Story: Wyrd Sisters

    By WMG Publishing

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    About this ebook

    When Noah Whitestone approaches Portia with a problem, she considers it with skepticism.

    Portia solves theatrical problems with her two sisters. Magical theatrical problems.

    But the Whitestones' problem proves particularly tricky. To solve it, Portia and her sisters must risk not only themselves but also a lot of innocent lives.

    Originally written for the Fiction River anthology Superstitious, "Puckish Behavior" continues the Wyrd Sisters' adventures by putting a new twist on a theatrical legend everyone thinks they know.

    "Rusch is a great storyteller."

    —RT Book Reviews

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWMG Publishing
    Release dateApr 2, 2021
    ISBN9781393850182
    Puckish Behavior: A Wyrd Systers Story: Wyrd Sisters

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      Book preview

      Puckish Behavior - WMG Publishing

      Puckish Behavior

      Puckish Behavior

      A Wyrd Sisters Story

      Kristine Kathryn Rusch

      WMG Publishing, Inc.

      Contents

      Puckish Behavior

      Newsletter sign-up

      Also by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

      About the Author

      Puckish Behavior

      That day, I arrived at class grumpy. My Introduction to Theatrical Textual Studies seminar got moved to Room 208 of the Whitney Humanities Center at Yale. Normally, I avoided the Whitney. It had once been the Trinity Parish Church House and, this being New England, almost every old church had had a dicey (read: scary; okay, read: terrifying) history with witches. Sometimes I think the old churches can sniff us out, as if the animosity had been baked into the walls.

      But, a week before, my normal classroom flooded in a freak accident (or so they tell me; I blame some computer equipment they’d installed—you’ll understand why later), and lovely as Room 208 was—and it was beautiful, with its arched ceilings, refinished wood floors, and built-in bookshelves—it made me nervous.

      Maybe it was simply because I had to stand behind a podium, which I hated, and my students hated. It put me too close to their laptops. The machines didn’t exactly explode, but anyone who took my classes and insisted on ignoring the admonition to leave the laptops behind usually lost those laptops to some weird electronic malfunction by the middle of the term.

      I was juggling my papers, my lecture notes, and some hand-written assignments—yes, I’m that professor—because my briefcase refused to enter Whitney at all.

      I made it to the front of the room and set my papers down on the podium before I sneezed, just like I always did when I entered this place. It smelled like burned ashes to me, layered over with a strong hint of mildew and dust. No one else on the faculty thought Room 208 smelled bad, and I never did ask my sisters, because the last thing I wanted was Viola and Rosalind to visit Yale.

      These past few years, we worked together more than we ever had before, but we were still in competition with each other. We were all magical dramaturges, although I was the best known. Partly, if truth be told, because I was the only one who had secured a tenured position in the Ivy League.

      Most people in the theater had no idea that magical dramaturges even existed, and we liked it like that. We didn’t want the whole world to know that magic was real, and that theaters were among the most dangerous places on Earth.

      My students weren’t studying magical dramaturgy. Some of them were studying actual dramaturgy, or would be once they actually committed to a major. Until then, I got the wannabe thespians, the insufferable English majors, and students like Noah Whitestone, who had gotten into Yale through family legacy, and spent their entire time here looking for the easiest classes with the most pliable professors.

      Many students mistake the laptops discouraged note on the three undergraduate courses I teach per year, along with the fact that I teach inside the theater department, to mean that my classes had no homework or were easy or were just avant garde enough that a charming kid could bullshit his way to an A. But those students usually dropped out by the second class.

      Unfortunately for me,

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