Bee grounded

Tommy coughed, and Bee, hovering just above his nose, wilted a little.

He hadn’t brushed his teeth.

She zipped to the ceiling and sat on the fan, legs dangling, looking down at the sleeping boys. She giggled then tumbled backwards and rolled off the blade, catching herself inches from the carpet and twirling out the door.

Down the stairs and around the living room, trailing subtle specks of fairy dust, she alighted on top of the Christmas tree, jealously nudging aside the angel and, with one hand shading her eyes, surveyed the landscape.

She bounced off a high branch and dove to the floor. Presents spilled beneath the tree as she plopped into the pile in a shower of tinsel.

“Achoo!” a puff of tinsel and fairy dust sneezed from the tree.

Eye of Newt

For Sunday Scribblings. The prompt is: recipe.


“A pinch of red pepper flakes. Where are … Ah ha. OK. One pinch then.”


Will sprinkled it into the cauldron. Steam puffed in his face. He coughed.


“Don’t go too heavy on the pepper!” his master shouted from across the room.


“I just put in a pinch!”


“Pinch it a little tighter next time, then!”


Alfred Lowenden was generally regarded as the greatest alchemist in the area. Will being accepted as his apprentice had less to do with skill and more to do with luck. Luck of birth, to be precise: Alfred was his uncle.


Will knew expectations were low, and he was anxious to prove his worth. Today, in his second week at the shop, Will was making his first potion for sale. It was to be a strength potion, nothing too complicated. He had a special recipe, the finest ingredients, and about 20 minutes before the customer arrived.