The image shows four tiny snow men like figures in different poses. All looking very cute!
The Cutesy-Pie Snow-People were the craze of the century that Christmas. Their sweet little faces and animated features melted the hardest of hearts, and by mid-December every garden, balcony and complex had their own little Cutesy-Pie.
Everyone feared what would happen to the cute little creatures come the thaw. People cleared spaces in their freezers and banded together to rented chill-rooms to accommodate them for the warmer months.
But as the snow melted the Snow-People hardened. They began to grow taller and slimmer. They lost their sweet expressions and threw off their quirky hats. People stared out at them with a new fear. Were their cute little Snow-People going to turn on them?
Then one morning as the sun rose and cast its strengthening rays over the land, the Snow-People took to the air, rising up, glinting in the sunlight like so many ice angels.
They banded together and flew north.
Satellites tracked the angels’ progress; the feed was live-streamed into every home. People watched and waited. Then, as the first light dawned over the northern pole, the angels descended. Their bodies merged with the melting glaciers and re-froze the recent permafrost.
Together the Snow-People undid the damage of decades.
Written in response to Sadje’sWhat Do You See #29 photo prompt. Image credit: Alexas Photos on Pixabay
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.
‘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.’
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.
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.
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 WeeklyWitch 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.
Sinead and Moonsprite stood before the castle walls. Sinead grasped the Sword of Elshain in one hand and buried the fingers of her other hand in the unicorn’s snowy mane.
The huge iron doors of the castle swung open. ‘Lay aside your weapon. We welcome you!’ Was the voice inside Sinead’s head or did it come from within the castle walls? Moonsprite nuzzled her shoulder and she sheathed her sword.
Together they crossed over the threshold. The doors clanged shut behind them.
Flowers carpeted the castle grounds. Breathing in their heady perfume, Sinead began to relax for the first time in many weeks. Moonsprite whinnied gently, burying her muzzle in the brightly coloured petals.
Ahead of them another door creaked open and a cloaked figure appeared, holding a massive hound on a leash.
The figure beckoned with a crooked finger. ‘Come inside, both of you!’
The challenge this week was leash. Photo credit: Kevin Jackson on Unsplash
Sinead and Moonsprite apologise for hi-jacking this week’s challenge, but they have an important quest to complete. Previous episodes of their quest may be found here
Great Being Five had been twiddling her thumbs for too long at the Academy for Wisdom¹. Over the decades she’d re-educated many recalcitrant Great Beings and re-engineered their wrong-doings. She’d set them all back on the straight and narrow, repentant of their misdeeds in the management of their planets. But now she was bored.
True, she still retained responsibility for two planets, but one was still at the ‘rocks and slime stage’ and the other, Orea, the one she used to love so much, with its pretty pastel colours and cute, fluffy life-forms, was… well, just a little bit dull.
Five was missing her beautiful blue planet. Planet Earth, which she’d finally decided to delete² back in Earth Year 2033, before the greedy, selfish little humans destroyed it themselves and took off to infect another planet.
She missed those fallible little creatures. Back in the day, before they had too many technical toys at their disposal, they were such fun. So creative! Five sighed as a wave of nostalgia broke over her desk and splashed off her Universal Viewing Screen.
Back in the day. The thought crossed and re-crossed her mind.
It lingered while a plan formed.
She’d done it before, and she could do it again. As a top official in the Academy, she had both the authority and the autonomy. All she needed to do was turn back Time in that small solar system on the edge of the Milky Way.
Once before she’d re-set Planet Earth, but sadly it hadn’t had much effect; soon the arrogant little inhabitants were back on the road to their inevitable existential fate. This time needed to be different. A planet-wide change of mind-set must be effected.
She knew just the Being to help her.
Five dropped a mind message to her first re-education subject, the one she knew best and her greatest success. She immediately sensed his enthusiasm for the project. He was primed and ready for action. She would take care of the Time-Grid and he would set up the means for a mind-set change.
He warned her it would be radical. He warned her it would be tough. He warned her it would take time.
She agreed.
Five aligned the Time-Grid: 01.01.2020. A nice round number; not long before The Total Tipping Point.
She sat back. Watched and waited.
Planet Earth reappeared in its old position. The little humans had ceased their scurrying. They’d hunkered down and huddled in their homes. Five was saddened at the sickness and the suffering; the deaths of the elderly, the poorly and the poor.
The Earth turned and turned again day after day month after month.
Skies cleared. Rivers ran clean. Nature thrived and re-asserted itself.
The planet cooled down a little.
When the scourge passed, the little humans emerged. They had changed and the change came from within; a new understanding of their beautiful blue planet.
Five mind-melded with her colleague: thanks, Nineteen.
She hoped her little humans would get it right now.
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?’
‘Oh Sparky, what are we going to do?’ Alys wrung her hands as a sludgy yellow substance seeped from the bottom of her cauldron.
It had all been going so well. Business had been brisk following her success with the skin potion she’d made for Agatha of Aladore*. Agatha had been the subject of a beauty feature in the Weekly Witch, and Alys had also had a spot in the same publication, although the journalist who came to interview her hadn’t been best pleased when she’d inadvertently turned her photographer into a frog.
Alys sighed again and stared mournfully at the leaky cauldron. ‘How much is a new cauldron going to cost Sparky?’
The diminutive dragon quickly consulted Acme’s Catalogue for Practitioners of Potions. ‘A Number Five Cauldron is six hundred and twenty four witch-gilders.’
‘I don’t even have the twenty four witch-gilders after paying compensation to that journalist.’ A plump tear ran down her cheek.
Sparky hopped up on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. He began to weep in sympathy, their tears mingling as they dripped into the leaky cauldron.
Psst-psst-psst! The cauldron hissed. Whooosh! A cloud of blue smoke issued forth from its depths. Ping-ping-ping! A shower of shiny silver objects rained down on the floor.
Sparky hopped down to investigate. ‘Look at this Alys,’ he exclaimed, releasing a cloud of excited steam.
Alys crouched down to look. ‘Coins! Oh Sparky, are they real?’
The diminutive dragon examined the nearest coin. ‘Sure they are!’ He gathered them up. ‘Six hundred and twenty-four witch-gilders!’
‘Exactly the amount we need… but how?’
The cauldron sputtered again and a thick piece of parchment flew out, flapped about and presented itself to Alys. It read: ‘Your cauldron is due for retirement and has bestowed a parting spell. Please treat her kindly in her old age and do not use her as an umbrella stand.’
The parchment promptly vanished.
Alys and Sparky looked at each other. The cauldron gurgled happily and showered them with tiny pink roses.
The challenge this week was catalogue. Photo credit: clipart-library.com It’s a little longer than the suggested 250 words, but Sparky didn’t want me to leave any of the story out.
High on the koppie the old woman tends the fire again. Throwing the final fistful of grey-green herbs over the unfurling flames, she melts into the silence of the pre-dawn shadows.
The once-maiden draws her lover close. He sleeps and she rises again, the child of the new dawn.
She stands gazing over the veld to where the smudge-blue mountains melt into the velvet-black of the burgeoning storm. Earth tremors ripple over the veld, rousing her waiting feet. She grows taller, a giantess, who strides across the yellowed grasses towards the beckoning finger of lightning.
The rain-bull kneels. In a single fluid movement, the San Man straddles the great beast’s back. The rain-bull rises. Thunder erupts from his nostrils and he charges down the mountain-side, scattering huge boulders before him. The men stagger in his wake as the storm clouds unleash their fury. Flood water surges down the slopes and blankets of rain sweep the over the veld to greet the distant sea.
The storm seethes on and the parched earth groans and shudders under its weight. The two men are gathered up in the deluge, spinning in a howling whirlpool across the veld and coming to rest on the cloud-cloaked koppie.
Later, the men awake to find their companion staring into the dying fire. They rouse themselves from their herb-induced dream-time and trudge down from the koppie.
They know that soon the once-maiden will return leading a long-legged rain-cow to bring soft raindrops which will last a whole season.
Alys stirred the copper cauldron. Three times widdershins and three times sunwise.
‘What’s next, Sparky?’ she glanced over at the diminutive dragon who was sitting on his purple haunches reading from the ‘Spell-book of Beauty for Witches’. Just out of her apprenticeship, Alys had been set to work on a particular potion for the Sisterhood.
‘Eye of newt and ear of bat…’
‘Stop messing, Sparky. Even I know that’s from Mr Shakespeare’s play.’ Alys laughed and flicked the long-handled spoon she was using to stir the pot at her tiny familiar. Small spatters landed on the pages of the spell-book where they sizzled ominously.
Sparky ran a tiny gleaming claw down the text. ‘Add five drops of crocodile tears and twelve drops of tincture of unicorn hair. Stir vigorously sunwise, then add tiny pinches of campfire dust until the mixture begins to glow.’
Alys added the ingredients and stirred.
‘I wonder if it’s supposed to look like that,’ said Alys, peering at the potion. ‘Oh well, it’ll have to do. Agatha of Aladore will be here any second.
Just then, Agatha materialized on the doormat. She grinned, holding out a small copper jug expectantly.
Alys filled the jug, wondering whether any potion could possibly work sufficient magic on Agatha’s gnarled and warty complexion. But Agatha cheerfully smeared the hot gloop over her face.
The potion began to fizz. ‘Oooh,’ exclaimed Agatha.
Her face puffed up like a poppadum. Then, with a loud hiss, the outer skin vapourised. Agatha’s hands flew to her cheeks.
There was a moment’s silence.
Agatha removed her hands. Her face was beautifully smooth. Her eyes shone wide and blue, clashing unfortunately with the colour of her skin which was… GREEN!
Agatha snapped her fingers; a small mirror hovered in front of her.
There was another moment’s silence.
Now I’m for it, Alys thought.
‘I LOVE IT!’ Agatha threw her arms around Alys. ‘Just the right tinge of witchery menace.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘I’ll tell all my friends!’ She tottered onto the doormat. ‘Vogue for Witches here I come!’ echoed her voice from the ether.
Alys held out her hand; Sparky sprang up and gave her a high five.
luna's on line 