Page 4 of Dragon Her Heels

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Upon hearing I was interested in the property and willing to buy in cash, the previous owner sent landscapers to do whatever I wanted, calling to thank me for taking a huge problem off his hands. As nobody else was stupid enough to buy cursed land, the assessment had come back in lower than what I’d paid.

The state viewed the building as ruins in progress and felt it was better somebody owned and lived in it rather than having it rot on Lake Hancock’s shores. I suspected some form of divine intervention.

Florida preferred filled properties than empty lots, but I’d never before witnessed mercy from a government entity before.

Better yet, as the property consisted of a hundred and fifty acres in unincorporated land and was my only home, I enjoyed the tax benefits of owning a homestead. All in all, I’d be paying less than three thousand dollars a year in property taxes.

I could work a minimum wage job anywhere and be able to afford my new home.

That alone would make any possible curse worth dealing with.

Ten days after placing my offer in, the home became mine, and I enjoyed my first day as a homeowner watching handsome landscapers break ground on what would be my garden. They’d dealt with the rest of the property first, mowing the lawns and planting a few new trees courtesy of the previous owner, who thought I’d enjoy having some mango, bananas, and agave to go along with the rest of my orchard.

I looked forward to settling into my new life, and I would head out to the local hardware store to pick out my seeds and take advantage of the early spring to get my planting done. With a little magic, my crops would germinate without issue, fluctuations in the weather wouldn’t damage my seedlings, and no weeds would take root.

When I returned to work, I would do so because I wanted to, not because I needed to.

I’d spent a decade of my life waiting for this moment, and I meant to enjoy every second of it.

My time had come.