The Witch Stories: The Changing Tea. Erica CDN Morrison

The Witch Stories: The Changing Tea

      Copyright

      © 2012 by Erica Morrison

      ISBN 9781456611927

      All rights reserved. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole in part, in any form by any print, electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

      Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of any copyrighted materials in any form. To do so is a violation of the author’s rights.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Chapter 1 - The Changing Tea

      Esmeralda stirred the cauldron slowly clockwise counting under her breath. “98, 99, 100!” She announced.

      Esmeralda always carefully stirred each recipe 100 times. She then lifted the spoon to her lips and blew on the thick orange contents. Tentatively her tongue touched the strange brew and she closed her eyes and sighed in satisfaction.

      “Well Pickitywick” She said to the skinny black cat by her feet. “Another perfect pumpkin sweet potato soup, if I do say so myself, glad I added the extra ginger. Now that dinner is settled, where did I put that spell book?”

      Esmeralda Cronely searched through the bizarre collection of books that crowded her dining room table. She was not the tidiest housekeeper and when she was working hard on a spell tended to just leave things scattered around the room.

      The spell books on the table ranged in size from giant leather bound tomes to the tiniest of notebooks. They had every color of the rainbow from deepest midnight black to brightest saffron gold. Some had shiny embossed writing on their covers while others had no words at all, instead they had strange symbols that seemed to change if you looked at them too closely. After a few moments of searching she lifted a medium sized purple book in triumph.

      “Eureka!” She cried. “This spell will get us noticed at the North American Spell In for sure!”

      The North American Spell In was an opportunity for witches from all over the United States and Canada to gather and exchange information. It lasted three days and was the highlight of the witches’ social season. The Spell In boasted a large bizarre and market place, excellent food, music and dancing, well as educational events. There were classes like, selecting a Broom, sure it can fly but does it scratch your hard wood floors? and Antidotes for transformation, He’s a toad, what now?

      The most important part of the festival, at least for Esmeralda, was the Show and Spell. It was a contest held on the last night of the festival allowing witches to show off their skills.

      For the last five years Esmeralda’s spells had backfired in some way. Her mind wandered to last year’s disaster when she added paprika instead of eye of newt. The result was a spicy concoction that did not grant a sparrow the power of speech after all and instead was being sold as Witchy Wow Sauce. At least selling the recipe had covered her travel expenses that year, but she had yet to live down the embarrassment.

      The year before that had been even worse. She had invented a potion for changing hair color on a whim and unfortunately dyed everyone in the first rows hair a mossy green, that had taken weeks to come out.

      This year would be different. Forget talking sparrows and vanity potions, this year’s was something special. Esmeralda began reading through the recipe for Changing Tea. If made correctly the spicy brew would transform the drinker into exactly who they wished to be for one thirty-six hours. The old could be young, the short tall, the plain could be beautiful, and the clumsy accident prone Esmeralda Cronely could be the well respected witch of her dreams!

      Esmeralda took a medium sized black iron cauldron from the over-stuffed shelf above her kitchen cabinet. She filled it half full with spring water and placed it over the hearth to heat.

      Pickitywick settled himself into a rocking chair a safe distance away. He had seen enough of Esmeralda’s spells go wrong to know better than to get too close. He lazily began cleaning a silky ebony paw and watching her putter around the kitchen with amusement in his bright yellow eyes.

      “Alright then,” Esmeralda said rifling through her pantry. “We need rosemary to remember what you want most.” She carelessly dumped a handful of the fragrant herb into the pot.

      “Now, all spice for luck.” She sprinkled in the herb then shrugged and added a bit more. “Beech so wishes come true.” Esmeralda looked down at the book, “Pinch of paprika and cinnamon to ignite the fires of personality, and last but not least, chameleon’s tears.”

      This last ingredient caused a moment’s hesitation, the other herbs had come from the witches’ private garden but the Chameleon’s tears had to be ordered from a catalog called Beezel’s Charms and Components.

      This was her first time ordering from Beezel but she knew that witches often ordered from the catalog, and they were certainly reviewed well in several Witches magazines so she had decided to take a chance.

      With a deep breath she dropped the last ingredient into the cauldron. There was a sudden puff of bluish smoke and then the potion turned a faint blue, then faded back to transparency.

      Esmeralda picked up the spell book and sighed, “Oh dear, Pickitywick” She said addressing the sleepy cat, “Was that more blue smoke? Or more purplish? The book is very specific that the smoke should be a light purple, and this looks awfully blue!”

      Esmeralda stirred the potion with a wooden spoon and removed the cauldron from the fire. Pickitywick opened one eye stretched lazily and began industriously cleaning a paw.

      “Humph,” She grumped “Your no help, alright, dinner then packing, then we shall decide what to do about The Changing Tea.”

      At the mention of food Pickitywick jumped down from his place on the rocking chair and began rubbing against Esmeralda’s legs. She reached down and patted him his sleek side and filled his bowl with cat food. Then Esmeralda grabbed a bowl of the pumpkin soup for herself and a nice big slice of crusty fresh baked bread. Soon both cat and witch were feeling warm and well fed.

      After dinner Esmeralda carefully tidied the kitchen and put away all the books on the table. She then cautiously eyed the potion in the pot. Esmeralda took a deep breath and poured the contents into a glass and drank it down.

      Pickitywick watched his mistress with worried attention. Esmeralda set the glass down on the counter making a face the potion had been a bit spicy. She quietly waited for something to happen.

      After nearly a minute cat and witch let out a deep sigh, at least the potion didn’t have any side effects. She cleaned her glass and began carefully packing her trunk for the journey to the Spell in.