A picture says a
thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a #story, a description, a poem, a
metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about
this picture.
Be sure to tag #writeworld in your
block!
http://writeworld.org/post/104575090068/writers-block-a-picture-says-a-thousand-words
Most grandmothers lived in little
houses with neat gardens, or in those homes where people dumped them when they
didn’t know what to do with them anymore and then never visited them. But her
grandmother was different. Different to other grandmothers but there were other
houses like hers on the topmost crests of nearby hills. All built by people
like her grandmother.
Witches.
They had to be magic for the
houses to hold together. They were built in a ramshackle style with odd,
overhanging bits and crooked pillars holding up the upper levels. Gran's hut had
maybe more than seven levels.
She stood, staring at the house
and dreading the moment when she had to be honest.
The door opened before she got
there and the cat came out to greet her. He stood and looked at her
expectantly.
“Hello, Mervyn.” He walked back to
the door and then back to her when she didn’t follow him. “She knew I was
coming, didn’t she?”
A miaow she took for yes.
She took a deep breath and
adjusted her bag on her shoulder.
The cat looked at her again and
yowled.
“Fine,” she huffed.
She hung her bag on the rack in
the coatroom and then walked through to the next room; the kitchen. The large
teapot, covered in its homemade cosy was already sitting on the table, steam
rising from its spout. Two cups and saucers waited next to it. She had
known she was coming.
“Where is he?” Cracked and old but
still familiar. Gran.
The girl pulled a large toad from
her bag and put him on the kitchen table. He looked disgruntled, if it was
possible for an amphibian to show emotions.
“Oh, he’s a beauty. Look at
you,” Gran crooned as she stroked the top of its head with the tip of her
finger.
“He was a pretty boy as well,” she
confessed. “He was just a...” she paused.
“A dick?” checked Gran.
“Yep. And that was the problem, I
called him a toad and before I knew what had happened...” She pointed at the
animal.
“I see.”
“You knew.”
“I felt you come into your power.”
She patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my love, when it first comes in it can be
unpredictable.”
“So I should probably be excused
from school.”
An eyebrow raise. “Good try, but
no.”
She rolled her eyes. “My life will
be hell. He will make it hell.”
“It might be easier if we get this
boy back in his normal form.”
“Do we have to? He was very
annoying.”
“Yes, and you have to do
it. I cannot reverse your spell for you.”
“Ugh.” She smacked her head on the
table and the teacup made a chiming rattle noise.
“There’s more.”
“It will take me a long time?” she
asked hopefully. He deserved to be a toad for a long time.
Gran laughed. “I doubt it, my
love. You have a natural ability.”
She looked intrigued.
“This young man-,” she pointed at
the toad, “-is going to be close to you for the rest of your life.”
“What? How is that fair?”
“It’s not about fairness. It’s
obvious from the fact that he turned so easily.”
She frowned. “He wanted to be a
toad?”
“He wanted to please you.”
“Oh bless me. He likes me?”
She sounded incredulous. “Why was he so horrible, then?”
“Men.” The old lady huffed. “They
are very odd creatures.” She eyed off the toad, “but we can’t leave him like
that, no matter how much you would like to.” She poured the tea. “Now drink this
and we will get to it.”
It took some hours but eventually
a rather shocked looking young man sat at the kitchen table.
It was meal time by then and they
all ate together. Magic took it out of her and she was starving. Jerome was
very quiet, but he did eat with them. He could have just run out of the hut but
he didn’t. Perhaps her Gran was right. Perhaps it was the heavy weight of
Mervyn on his lap. It was a brave person who threw that cat off.
She and Gran made arrangements.
She would need to train with her every afternoon, every weekend and every
holiday. The rest of her life would have to wait. She was a witch and there was
nothing she could do about it. And it was a gift; not everyone had the power.
When she kissed Gran goodnight,
the old woman whispered something in her ear. She nodded and went to the door
to walk home with Jerome.
At the bottom of the hill, he
stopped her. “I’m sorry, I have been a dick.”
“You heard us?”
“Yes. If you want me to come with
you when you come for lessons, I will.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
She nodded. “I’ll meet you here
tomorrow.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Night.”
She watched him walk away and she
remembered what her gran had said when she turned him back relatively easily.
“He became a boy again, because that is what you want.”
She started to wonder if Mervyn
really was a cat or just a man who liked being a cat. She caught herself
thinking that she would have to tell Jerome her theory tomorrow. “I could have
picked something fluffy and cute,” she snarked to herself. “A toad.” She shook
her head and went home.
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