Monday, July 18, 2016

The Rejuvenation Potion of Antioch

        The viscous green fluid in Cassandra’s cauldron flashed white as she dropped a pig’s ear into her brew.  Her hands trembled.  She groped the table behind her for a handful of newt eyes.  She didn’t turn.  There wasn’t time.
        Rat tail.  Molasses.  Three extra-large pepperoni pizzas—though anchovy would have been better.
        Cassandra wafted her potion, eyes watering.  Not right.  What was she missing?  She yanked the phone from her pocket.
        “Joey.  Urgent.  Last ingredient in the rejuvenation potion of Antioch?”
        “Of Antioch?  Well—”
        “Please, Joey.  My dog is about to keel over.”
        “The feather of a hawk.  It must be from the—”
        Cassandra knocked her supply table nearly clean.  Her right hand brushed a tiny stack of feathers.  She plucked a brown one up, tossed it in the pot, stirred her mixture, and dipped an ancient bucket down into it.  She plopped it down before her shepherd, then hoisted her head into the potion.
        Gulp.  Gulp.  Thud.
        Cassandra’s phone rang.  She let it ring.  “From the tail,” he was about to say.  A feather from anywhere else will make a poison.
        Her dog.  Poisoned.  Twice.  By her.


  1. Ooooh this is good. Are you writing a novel?

    Little Moon Elephant

    1. Thanks! I'm dabbling around with one, yeah. I've had trouble with the novel-writing process (or process of writing any story over 3,000 words), but I think I might at least get this one to a rough draft eventually.

  2. Uh-oh! I am enjoying the taste of the world here -- modern day wizardry. Do you know much about Cassandra?

    1. Not much at all, really. This was another writing exercise from my Intro to Creative Writing class. I just cleaned it up a little bit.