January 10, 2016


‘I’m going to leave,’ said the broom, wiggling for emphasis. ‘See if I don’t.’

‘You’ve been saying that for years,’ said the cauldron from its comfortable position above the warmth of embers in the fireplace. ‘And yet you never go. You complain a lot, but you’re quiet as Obadiah when the witch is around. Isn’t that so, Obadiah?’

A small gray mouse nodded.

‘Well, this time it will be different. Just you wait,’ said the broom.

The cauldron sighed and rolled its imaginary eyes. The mouse darted into its crevice. The cottage door swung open, and the witch entered. Muttering nonsense and bobbing her head, shrugging and twitching, she circled the room aimlessly.

‘Now what was I about? I knew I was supposed to do something. What … Oh, I have it!’ she said. ‘Collect fresh henbane.’

She snatched the broom and flew out the door and away. The mouse poked its nose from the crevice. The cauldron, looking forward to burbling up a new henbane recipe, began to sing.

Time passed, and the witch returned, tossing henbane onto the table and propping the broom in the corner. She worked hard for the next few hours on an invisibility brew, stirring and adding ingredients to the happy cauldron. When the completed potion had been properly bottled and stored, she climbed to the attic to sleep.

‘I’m going to leave. See if I don’t,’ said the broom when all was quiet.

‘You’ll never leave. You’re all talk and no action,’ said the cauldron, basking in a rosy glow.

The cauldron was wise. The mouse was quiet. The broom knew in its heart that what the cauldron said was true.

‘You’ll see,’ said the broom. ‘Just you wait.’

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