A new business opportunity

a picture of a chocolate cake

Sparky was sitting on the table reading the latest edition of Magical Creatures Monthly. He was studying a tempting-looking chocolate cake recipe by a dragon from Wisconsin, when with a loud pop and a puff of pink smoke, a small rectangular object landed on the doormat.

‘What was that, Sparky?’ called Alys from where she was busy cleaning her cauldron.

The diminutive dragon flew down to inspect the recent arrival. ‘It’s a Magical Messaging Machine. How exciting!’ He poked it gently with a small purple claw. ‘Oooh,’ he exclaimed through a shower of excited sparks as the screen sprang into life.

Alys hurried over. The Magical Message Machine pinged loudly and the large friendly face of George the Dragon filled the screen.

Alys and Sparky exchanged glances. Even though George had made a huge mess of Alys’s herb garden when he’d visited, and hadn’t actually turned out to be one of Sparky’s relatives as he’d claimed, they’d felt rather sorry for him when he had to be returned to the Home for Delusional Dragons. It was good to see him.

‘Listen both of you,’ George said, leaning even closer to his side of the screen. ‘I want to make it up to you for barging in on you like that.’

Alys smiled. ‘No harm done, George.’

‘Nothing which Alys couldn’t put right with a wave of her wand,’ added Sparky.

George held up a big blue paw. ‘I have a gift for you. It should be arriving about now.’

There was a gentle thud on the doormat accompanied by a cloud of dust. The retired cauldron sneezed, clearing the dust to reveal a tray containing six silver seedlings in little green pots.

‘Dragon Snaps,’ George explained. ‘Pop them out in your garden. They’ll be ready to harvest in ninety-nine minutes. I’ll call you back then, toodle-pip!’ The screen went blank.

‘Come on, Alys,’ excited steam issued from Sparky’s nostrils. ‘Let’s plant them.’

Soon the little Dragon Snaps were sitting comfortably in the soil. ‘All we need to do now is wait,’ said Alys. ‘What shall we do?’

‘We could make a cake.’ Sparky flew over to the table and brought back the recipe he’d been reading. ‘Looks good, doesn’t it?’

Alys grinned. ‘Let’s do it!’

‘Without magic?’

‘Of course,’ replied Alys. ‘I can cook conventionally.’

Sparky raised a purple eyebrow but said nothing.

The time flew by as they measured and mixed and finally popped the cake in the oven. Sparky glanced out of the window. ‘Look!’ he pointed with a chocolate-covered paw.

The silver seedlings had grown into tiny trees. Hanging from their branches were dozens of strange-looking objects.

Just then the Magical Messaging Machine pinged. It vibrated agitatedly on the table until Alys picked it up. George’s face appeared. ‘Are they ripe yet?’

Sparky took off through the kitchen door and returned clutching a rectangular-shaped pod. ‘Go on, open it,’ said George excitedly.

Alys took the pod and carefully split it open. Inside was a playing card with a picture of a dragon on the front and some numbers and symbols beneath it. Alys turned the card over. The words Dragon Snap Collectibles™ shimmered in silver.

‘There are lots of different dragons to collect and it’s a game too!’ George grinned toothily.

‘Awesome!’ said Sparky through a shower of excited silvery sparks. ‘How many cards are there, George?’

‘It’s impossible to say. They just grow…’ George paused, noticing Alys’s expression. ‘They’re perfectly legitimate. I have a wizard contact who cultivates them in Seattle. He’s given me a license to import the seeds. All I need is somewhere to grow them. There’s no garden here at the Dragon’s Home.’

‘Collectible cards that grow on trees, Alys,’ said Sparky. ‘You were talking about growing the business, weren’t you?’

Alys grinned. ‘Why not, we’ve nothing to lose. They might attract a new set of customers.’ Sniffing the air, she whirled around and snatched open the oven door. Alys sighed and picked up her wand.

George continued. ‘I can supply you with the seedlings, you can to the rest…’

‘…and we can split the profits!’ Excited amber smoke issued from Sparky’s snout.

‘That looks tempting,’ said George, eyeing the cake with its glistening chocolate frosting from the screen. ‘You’re obviously a very accomplished cook.

Alys smiled at the compliment. ‘I’ll send you a piece, George.’

Sparky glanced at George’s beaming face and winked at Alys. ‘He may not be my uncle, but he can be our business partner, can’t he?’



Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite

Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #45

The challenge this week was partner. Photo credit: clipart-library.com
Sparky apologises for busting the word limit but he didn’t want to leave out the cake

A small cute purple dragon
Read more Alys and Sparky adventures here

Uncle George the Dragon

‘What are you reading?’ Alys asked, glancing over the steaming cauldron at her diminutive dragon. His pointy tail was twitching with agitation as he read from the crumpled piece of parchment in front of him.

‘It’s a letter from my Uncle George. It just arrived by doormat.’ Sparky put his head on one side. ‘I didn’t know I had any family.’

‘Nor me. What does it say?

‘It says he wants to visit; something about a family tree. At least I think that’s what it says. His writing is terrible.’

Alys peered at the parchment. ‘Well, if he’s a relative of yours I suppose we should invite him.’

The room darkened. Something very large was squashed up against the window. Alys hurried over to see what it was.

‘Oh, I think this must be Uncle George.’

Sparky flew to her shoulder and together they opened the back door to a huge scaly green flank which undulated as its owner turned around. A large but friendly-looking face appeared. ‘Hello,’ it said, yellow saucer eyes gleaming.

‘You must be Uncle George.’ A welcoming plume of purple smoke issued from Sparky’s snout.

‘I was expecting someone… er, smaller,’ said Alys, edging around the door and stepping into the only part of the yard which wasn’t occupied by Uncle George. His great paws sunk into her carefully-tended herb and flower beds and his tail was draped inelegantly over the little garden shed which complained crossly under its weight.

Alys remembered her manners. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said politely.

‘So, this is young Sparky, is it?’ Uncle George grinned toothily. ‘I haven’t got long, I’ve lots of relatives to visit.’ He rummaged under his left wing and retrieved a battered book. Then he felt under his chin and pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles which he perched precariously on his huge green snout.

Sparky flew up and landed on Uncle George’s head, so as better to see the book. He read the title: Who’s Who in the Dragon World.

‘What are you doing up there, boy? Can’t you see I’m trying to read?’ Uncle George said sternly.

‘Sorry, I just wanted to look at the book too.’ A little steam of sapphire smoke seeped from his snout.

‘All right, but keep still.’ Uncle George leafed through the pages with a golden claw.

‘You don’t look like each other at all,’ ventured Alys.

Uncle George ignored her and continued his perusal of the pages. ‘You know, boy, you could be a high-born dragon just like me. Caves and castles, riches and…’

He was interrupted by a big booming voice. ‘George, there you are!’ A bearded face appeared over the wall.

Alys looked around in alarm. Another giant! She’d only just repaired her ceiling after the last one visited.

‘Sorry, Miss,’ the giant apologized, flashing an identity card at her. He smiled sympathetically at Uncle George. ‘My name’s Arthur, I’m afraid George gets awfully confused.

Uncle George looked up. ‘Oh dear, I’ve been rumbled again.

Sparky flew over and perched on the wall, just out of Arthur’s reach. ‘What’s going on? This is my uncle.’ A handful of indignant indigo sparks flared from his nostrils.

Arthur sighed. ‘He’s escaped from the Home for Delusional Dragons again. Not your fault, of course, his letters can be very persuasive. I expect you invited him, didn’t you?’

Alys and Sparky nodded.

‘It breaks the Spell of Confinement if you do, you see.’

‘Perhaps you need to change your spell,’ suggested Alys.

‘Yes, Miss, we will. We don’t want to be too harsh on him though. He’s had a rough time. Gambled all the family riches away…’

‘And I’m not part of that family?’ asked Sparky.

Arthur chuckled. ‘I don’t think so young’un.’

‘I’m fully grown,’ replied Sparky stoutly.

‘Well then, you’re not likely to be related to a dragon like George, are you?’

Sparky stared at George, who was folding his horn-rimmed spectacles. ‘Don’t I have any family?’ asked Sparky plaintively.

George shrugged his huge shoulders.

‘Ready, George?’ asked Arthur.

George nodded happily. ‘Lot’s more family to visit, eh?’

Arthur waved a giant-sized wand and both he and George vanished. The garden shed sighed with relief.

Alys turned to her diminutive dragon. ‘You’ve still got me, Sparky.’

‘And you’re all the family I need, Alys,’ he replied, sending up a pretty plume of purple smoke. ‘I’ll fetch your wand and we can tidy up the garden.’

Alys smiled. Sparky was all the family she needed too.


Image credit: sqbr on deviantart.com

A small cute purple dragon
Read more Alys and Sparky adventures here

An Alpine Adventure

cartoon picture of an edelweiss flower

Alys unpacked her latest doormat delivery from Acme’s Ingredients for Witches. It was a bumper order as she’d used the voucher she’d been given as a reward for capturing the bogus Dragon Inspector.

‘One item’s missing,’ said Sparky, consulting the delivery note. ‘Distillation of Edelweiss is out of stock.’

‘That’s the ingredient I was particularly waiting for. I need it for my Special Skin Cream for the More Mature Witch.’ Alys frowned. ‘Does it say when they’ll be getting more stock?’

The diminutive dragon shook his head. ‘Isn’t there anywhere else you can get it from?’

Alys shrugged. ‘It’s imported from Switzerland. Edelweiss grows in the Alps there.’

‘We could try contacting the manufacturers,’ suggested Sparky.

Alys took a dark blue bottle from the shelf and examined the flower-shaped label. There’s a doormat address here. I suppose I could try sending them a note.’

‘Or we could visit,’ said Sparky through an excited puff of purple smoke.

‘That would be an adventure! We’ve never been abroad.’

‘We went to Scotland for the Dragon-Flame Games last year,’ Sparky reminded her.

‘That’s not abroad.’

‘Well, it was foreign,’ retorted Sparky. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Babel-Fish Charm we’d have never understood what anyone was saying!’ He flew across the room and hovered by the door. ‘Shall we go then?’

Alys hesitated for a moment then, snatching up her wand, she joined him on the doormat.

cartoon picture of an edelweiss flower

They found themselves looking up at huge flower-shaped emblem which hung over the front doors of a large building. All around them were green fields carpeted in alpine flowers with snow-capped mountains beyond.

The doors opened to reveal a short, white-bearded man wearing a red hat, whose appearance reminded Alys of a garden gnome. ‘Welcome to Edelweiss Paradise,’ said the little man grandly. ‘My name is Otto.’

‘We came to buy some of your Distillation of Edelweiss,’ said Alys brightly.

Otto smiled, but then his face fell and his shoulders sagged.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Alys, while Sparky, who was perching on her shoulder, snorted out a concerned stream of violet smoke.

Otto stared at the diminutive dragon. ‘Please. Come inside.’

They followed Otto into the building. The walls were lined with a series of copper vessels connected by a maze of pipes leading up from a central smoke-stained pit. Further along was a bottling area, with a line of the familiar dark blue bottles standing on a long table.

The factory, however, was silent.

‘What happened?’ asked Alys.

Otto walked over to the fire pit. ‘The Eternal Flame which has fired our production for two hundred years has gone out. We’ve tried everything to rekindle it, but…’ Otto shook his head sadly. ‘Our village is desperate. We sold the last of our stock a month ago and this is our livelihood.’

Sparky sprang up and hovered over the pit, tiny flames issuing from his snout. He landed on the edge and looked up at Alys.

The young witch nodded and took out her wand. ‘Initio incendio!’ Alys commanded.

Sparky took a deep breath and blew a great golden gout of flames at the centre of the pit.

Nothing happened.

‘Again, Sparky!’

A blaze of bright blue flames poured forth from the tiny dragon’s mouth. Alys enunciated her incantation again. The flames glowed white-hot and with a whoosh the pit was ablaze. Alys and Sparky withdrew as the flames shot up towards the roof, then died down to a steady, healthy crackle.

‘You did it!’ Otto exclaimed. The factory doors flew open and a group of small gnome-like people flooded in, all whooping and cheering.

cartoon picture of an edelweiss flower

The retired cauldron quivered with pleasure as Alys draped a fresh garland of fragrant alpine blooms around her rim.

‘Maybe we should travel to foreign parts more often,’ called out Sparky as he flew over to admire the flower-shaped Medal of Honour which stood proudly on their bookshelf.


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #44

The challenge this week was foreign. Photo credit: 4570book.info

A small cute purple dragon
Read more Alys and Sparky adventures here

Agatha of Agador is missing!

A cartoon image of a purple cosmetic jar with a stopper in the top

Alys was admiring the flowers which Agatha of Agador had sent to thank her for sorting out the shoddy builders who’d made such a mess in her house. The flowers were still as fresh as when they’d arrived several weeks ago. The young witch was wondering why Agatha hadn’t come for her monthly cosmetic order when the Retired Cauldron burst into a fit of coughing.

Alys hurried over. The Retired Cauldron spluttered and coughed up a crumpled note. Sparky flew across the room and scooped up the note, handing it to Alys.

The diminutive dragon perched on her shoulder as she read: ‘Agatha of Agador has vanished. Please come quickly!

The note turned itself over revealing Agatha’s doormat address.

‘Why ask us?’ asked Alys.

An excited puff of steam issued from Sparky’s nostrils. ‘Only one way to find out.’

Giving the Retired Cauldron a farewell pat, Alys stepped onto the doormat and announced the address.

A cartoon image of a purple cosmetic jar with a stopper in the top

‘Hello? Anyone here?’ called Alys hopefully. But there was no reply.

The room was dominated by an expensive cauldron standing between a huge book case and a large wooden table. Assorted ingredients were strewn over the tabletop where a golden ladle had spilled its contents across a well-thumbed spell-book.

Alys peered into the still-warm cauldron while Sparky hovered over the mess on the table craning his neck to read what Agatha, presumably, had been working on.

‘Look at this, Alys.’

Alys read the title: ‘Vanishe Away: for Prettie Youthefull Hands’. Alys frowned. ‘Why didn’t Agatha come to me? I could have easily made something like this.’ She shook her head. ‘I wonder what happened.’

‘Maybe she overdid the vanishing bit,’ suggested Sparky.

‘But she’s such an experienced spell-mistress.’

At that moment the curtain over the doorway to the next room started to flap wildly.

‘Is that you, Agnes?’ Alys called out.

The curtain flapped again.

Alys and Sparky exchanged glances. ‘What happened, Agnes?’

The curtain stopped moving.

‘Agnes?’

The curtain dangled unresponsively.

‘I’m sure that was her, Sparky.’

Sparky blew out a little cloud of purple smoke in agreement.

‘But what can we do?’

‘Undo the spell?’

‘But Sparky, undoing another witch’s spell…’ Alys shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘You could ask one of the Sisters…’

The curtain flapped violently.

Alys shook her head. ‘No, we have to find a way. Maybe that’s why Agnes asked us. She’d be mortified if other members of the Western Coven found out that she’d vanished herself.

The curtain nodded in agreement.

‘Okay. Let’s think.’

‘Could we go back in time and stop her?’ asked Sparky.

Alys frowned.

‘Hermione used a time-turner in one of the Harry Potter books.’

‘Sparky, that’s fiction. It’s not real.’

‘There are real things in the Harry Potter books… like dragons,’ replied the diminutive dragon through a shower of indignant sparks.

‘Okay, Sparky.’

He flew up to the bookshelf and began examining the titles, while Alys fingered the sticky spell-book.

Tucked away on the top shelf, Sparky found what he was looking for. He tugged at the leather-bound volume with his claws. It teetered on the edge of the shelf before Alys came to the rescue.

Tweeking Time, a beginners guide,’ read the title.

Together they pored over the contents page. Spotting a promising description, Sparky turned to page 288. They read in silence for a moment. Alys started to nod. ‘Sounds like a plan, Sparky.’

A cartoon image of a purple cosmetic jar with a stopper in the top

Alys looked up from the flowers she’d been admiring to see Agnes of Agador standing on her doormat smiling at her.

‘Alys, darling, thank you for the wonderful cream. It works like a dream!’ She admired her hands. ‘You know I almost cooked up a hand lotion from my old spell book. I know you’re busy and I didn’t want to trouble you, but then before I could start your little pot arrived…’

Alys looked over her shoulder at Sparky and winked.


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #43

The challenge this week was plan. Photo credit: clipart-library.com

A small cute purple dragon
Click here for more Alys and Sparky stories

 

Cowboys, Beware!

jug of lemonade and two glasses

Alys waved her wand with a flourish. ‘Ceiling reparo!’

Sparky, her diminutive dragon, looked up as several stray flakes of plaster dislodged themselves.

Alys waved her wand again. ‘Plaster mendaro!’

The cracks in the ceiling made by the bogus dragon inspector stubbornly remained.

Alys lowered her wand. ‘I don’t know, Sparky. I’m no good at these DIY spells.’

‘Maybe we should call someone.’ He flew over to the bookshelf and pulled out a thin volume with a bright yellow cover. Sparky started leafing through the flimsy pages.

They were interrupted by a loud thud on the doormat heralding the arrival of two stocky little men wearing blue overalls. One held a large bucket and the other carried a ladder. ‘You called, Miss?’ they said in unison.

Alys turned to Sparky. ‘Did we?’

Sparky shook his head.

‘Aha,’ the two little men pointed at the ceiling. ‘We see your problem, Miss.’

‘Can you repair it?’ asked Alys hopefully.

‘Of course.’ Fred rubbed his hands together. ‘We’ll have this done in a jiffy.’

Alys returned to the kitchen where a hair preparation ‘for constantly flowing locks’ was gently simmering in her cauldron. Sparky followed carrying his new copy of Dragon Detectives’ Monthly which had arrived by doormat that morning. He’d only just settled down to read when a loud hiss of crimson steam issued from his nostrils.

BEWARE THESE COWBOY CONTRACTORS!’ the heading screamed. Sparky hastily silenced the article with a swift pat of his paw.

‘What is it, Sparky?’

Sparky put a purple claw to his mouth. He beckoned to Alys and pointed at the photograph. The faces of the two stocky workman stared out from the article. ‘Wanted in two counties for preying on the unwary, these practitioners of make and mend have been wreaking mischief and mayhem on unsuspecting clients’ homes. They extort money on the promise of rectification and then disappear without completing the work. Their most recent victim was Agatha of Agador…’

Alys looked up. Agatha was one of her best clients. ‘Poor Agatha!’ she exclaimed.

Alys ladled a couple of spoonsful of the preparation from her cauldron into a glass jug and muttered an incantation. The mixture fizzed and bubbled, then slowly cleared to a pleasant lemony colour.

She poured it into two glasses, winking at Sparky. ‘Refreshments, gentlemen,’ she called out cheerfully, carrying the glasses into the next room and putting them on the table.

The two men seized the glasses and drank. ‘That really hits the spot,’ said Bob.

‘Just as well,’ said Fred. ‘This job is trickier than we thought. We’ll need to come back tomorrow.’

Alys eyed the ceiling where there was now a gaping hole.

‘We need more materials,’ Fred rubbed his hands together, ‘and an advance on the payment.’

Sparky snatched up the Dragon Detective’s Weekly and flew across the room, dropping it on the table in front of the two men. A threatening shower of sparks spurted from his snout.

Fred put his hands on his hips. ‘So? D’you want the job finished or what?’

Bob nudged him. ‘Your hair, it’s… it’s green and it’s growing!’

Fred turned to him. His jaw dropped open. ‘So’s yours!’

Within seconds grisly green hair was pooling at their feet.

Alys glared at the two men. ‘Put my ceiling right and your hair will go back to normal.’ She twitched her wand and the hair began to curl and tighten around their bodies. ‘And finish all those other jobs,’ she pointed at the article.

‘That’s blackmail!’ Fred mumbled indistinctly through a forest of green beard.

‘Just do it,’ said Alys sweetly.


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #42

The challenge this week was extort. Photo credit: dreamtime.com

A small cute purple dragon
Click here for more Alys and Sparky stories

The Dragon Inspector Calls

A small cute purple dragon

Alys was stirring a batch of Witches’ Wonder Beauty Cream when she heard a knock at the door.

‘We’re not expecting anyone are we, Sparky?’

The diminutive dragon looked up from the Weekly Witch where he was reading about their recent success in the WI Competition. He shook his head.

Alys turned off the cauldron with a wand-wave before opening the door. She was greeted by broad chest with a large belt buckle below it. Alys stepped back in surprise. ‘Oh, it’s a giant!’

The owner of the large belt buckle stooped down and a big black bearded face appeared. ‘Your doorway is somewhat small, but I’ll just…’ The giant squeezed himself inside. ‘Right.’ He looked down at Alys with a stern expression on his face.

Alys looked up at him. Fearing for her ceiling she asked him to sit down. The giant perched on the edge of her work table, whose legs groaned loudly.

‘What can I do for you?’ Alys asked.

The giant consulted the clipboard he was holding. ‘You’re Alice of the Western Witches’ Coven?’

‘That’s right.’

‘My name is Bruwod. I’m here about a Breach of Ye Olde Treaty of Magical Creatures’.

Alys frowned. Sparky flew up onto her shoulder. A wisp of agitated steam escaped from his left nostril.

Bruwod leapt to his feet. A sprinkling of plaster peppered his shoulders as his head hit the ceiling. He pointed at Sparky. ‘You have a dragon!’

‘And I have a hole in my ceiling,’ replied Alys testily. ‘What’s this about?’

Bruwod glanced at the upwards and seated himself again. The table sighed heavily. ‘Your dragon is Unregistered in Breach of Regulation 6.66. He will be impounded and released back into the wild.’ He jabbed his pencil in Sparky’s direction.

The diminutive dragon snorted in alarm, sending out tiny showers of purple sparks from his flaring nostrils.

‘Into the wild? I’ve had him since he was an egg!’ said Alys in alarm.

‘Do you have the Proper Documentation for his Provenance?’

Alys shook her head.

‘You’re keeping a Protected Species without the Proper Documentation.’ Bruwod stabbed his pencil on his clipboard for emphasis. The point promptly broke.

With a whoosh and a bang and a cloud of red smoke, a piece of parchment appeared on the doormat. They all turned to look. The parchment reared up revealing a picture of Bruwod framed by the words: ‘Wanted for Dragon Abduction; Reward Offered.’

Bruwod flung down his clipboard and lunged towards Sparky who flew up in alarm, golden flames shooting from his nostrils. Bruwod grabbed at him with a meaty hand catching him by the tail. ‘Gotcha!’

Alys snatched up her wand as Sparky shot a dagger of brilliant blue flame into Bruwod’s face. The giant let go, tripping over the doormat and landing in heap next to the retired cauldron.

Not familiar with the Craft of Combat and Containment, Alys struggled for a spell, but the retired cauldron was quicker, casting a huge net over the writhing giant.

A gruff voice shouted from the other side of the door. ‘Witchery Enforcement! Stand back, we’re coming in!’ The door burst open.

It only took a few moments for the four burly officers to bundle Bruwod into their van. ‘Well done, Miss, you’ve captured a dangerous criminal,’ said their leader touching the peak of his cap with his wand.

‘It wasn’t really me,’ Alys glanced at her retired cauldron which quivered gently.

‘Nevertheless, we’re grateful for the assistance.’ He handed Alys a voucher for Acme’s Ingredients and Equipment for Witches.

Alys and Sparky grinned. It was their favourite store.


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #41

The challenge this week was treaty.
Photo credit: clipart-library.com

Read more Alys and Sparky adventures here!

The WI Competition

WI competition by Chris Hall lunasonlune

Alys eyed the glowing seed packet dubiously. It had just that minute materialised on her doormat with a note from Cheryl Charmworker, the Chairlady of the Inter-Coven Competition Committee.

‘Well, Sparky, this is going to be a challenge,’ Alys addressed her diminutive dragon who was still perusing Cheryl’s missive.

‘She’s asked you to represent the Western Sisterhood in the Witches’ Institute Flower and Produce competition!’

‘Only because everyone else is busy with the Mistress of Spells Symposium,’ said Alys moodily. ‘What do we know about growing stuff?’

‘We can only try, Alys. C’mon, let’s get planting. The competition’s this afternoon!’ Excited smoke danced from Sparky’s purple nostrils as he flew out of the back door.

Alys followed carrying the seed packet carefully. ‘Don’t wake until ready to sow’, the instructions had whispered.

With a bright burst of flames, Sparky cleared a patch of earth. Alys opened the packet and shook it. The tiny seeds sparkled and danced in the air before sowing themselves neatly in the fresh earth. Each seed produced a miniature spade and covered itself over. Moments later they heard the gentle sound of snoring coming from beneath the earth.

Alys and Sparky spent an anxious few hours anticipating the growth of their entry. Eventually they’d given up peeking out of the back door to find nothing happening. Alys returned to studying the ‘Biggest Book of Brilliant Spells’, while Sparky amused himself practicing his flame throwing skills in the hearth.

They were interrupted by a polite knock on the back door. Alys hurried to open it. The ugliest bunch of knobbly root vegetables she had ever seen lay neatly knotted together on the doorstep, pulsating with a peculiar pink colour. It was almost time to leave. Her heart sank. They were never going to win with these.

Alys and Sparky stood on the doormat. Alys had just read out their destination when a big bunch of tulips burst from the retired cauldron and placed itself on top of the basket holding the knobbly veggies. Alys smiled gratefully; maybe there was some hope after all.

The Witches Institute Hall hummed with excited conversation. No sooner had Alys and Sparky found their allotted spot than a judge arrived; a rotund black-bearded dwarf who introduced himself as Wilfred.

Wilfred eyed the tulips. ‘You grew these?’ he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Alys flushed. ‘Actually no, they were a present from my retired cauldron.’

Wilfred removed the offending flowers and peered into the basket. ‘What do we have here?’ he plucked the pulsating pink veggies from the basket.

Alys and Sparky exchanged a worried glance as Wilfred slowly turned them over in his calloused hands.  

‘These are magnificent!’ He leapt onto the table and held them aloft. ‘Pink Prestige Parsnips; notoriously difficult to grow.’ Wilfred beamed. ‘First Prize to the Western Witches’ Coven!’

A large red rosette appeared on the table next to Alys. Wilfred turned to her and whispered. ‘You would’t mind if I took a couple home, would you?’


Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #39

The challenge this week was prestige. Photo credit: clipart.com