Training Troubles For Hetty

Finish That Thought #45 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: You should've stayed on the path
Special challenge: Include either an enchanted or haunted forest


‘You should've stayed on the path!’ the pixie-in-training reprimanded herself. Her pink, gossamer twitched nervously. Pouty lips pulled down in a frown as she examined her forested surroundings. Back and forth, back and forth she paced under a rhododendron leaf with the tulip bulb clutched firmly to her bosom. 

The assignment had been simple: Find a bulb and bring it back. It was only recommended to use the well-worn trail from the pixie students who had gone before. Nothing had been said about ferocious beasts in the enchanted forest, which of course was the reason one now blocked her exit. 

“Oh, what’s a poor pixie to do?” Hetty lamented aloud. She set the bulb next to her on the branch to wipe the beads of perspiration away and wilted beside it. Leaning against the bulb, she tucked her knees under her chin and watched the large, black furball snooze in the sun by a clutter of clay potting jars across the grassy forest clearing. Her portal. 

“Ralph, have you been eating my tulips again?” a voice boomed from far above. Hetty scrambled behind her bulb with a shriek and peeked out. 

“Ralph!” The giant lumbered into the clearing, casting a horrendous shadow over the land. Slowly the beast yawned, stretched, and sat up. It didn’t seem to be afraid of the towering giant until it bent down. Instantly, the beast bolted through the giant’s legs and into the trees where Hetty hid. She held her breath as it sulked in the shadows only inches beneath her. 

“You naughty cat! Come back here!” 

Hetty cowered as the giant whacked something against the trees to scare the beast out. She clung to her bulb tightly as the earth shook and trembled beneath her feet. The next thump sent her spiraling to the ground. Hetty landed in a heap on top of her bulb. 

“Meow…” 

The little pixie raised her head just enough to see two green eyes glowering in the shadows. 

“Eeeek!” she cried as it batted her with its paw. Quickly righting herself, Hetty snatched the bulb and dove for the clearing, hoping the giant would not be able to see her. She cried out again as the beast swung another paw in her direction. 

“Oh, you naughty cat!” the giant shouted. “Stop playing with my tulip!” 

Hetty didn’t dare look behind her, but ran as fast as her legs could carry her toward the pots, the bulb securely held on top of her head. The giant lumbered after them, and the beast was almost upon her when she reached safety. The portal opened wide against the side of one of the pots and she lunged for it as the giant snatched up the beast to give it a good shake. 

Hetty tumbled to the floor of the garden lab with her bulb. Professor Puffly looked up from his textbook in surprise at her unorthodox return. 

“Trouble?” his whiskers twitched. 

“No, no trouble at all,” Hetty said breathlessly. “Here’s my bulb.”

God-Mothering 101

Finish That Thought #28 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt:  Nothing good ever happens after midnight.  
Special Challenge:  Incorporate at least three small, furry animals (Please don't kill them)


“Nothing good ever happens after midnight,” Professor Puffly stated while tapping the chalkboard with his pointer.  “Remember that when you prepare your spells.”  He waddled to the other side of his desk and leaned against it, crossing his paws.  “Who wants to give me an example?”

Hetty peeked across the classroom and made eye contact with her best friend, Pearlie.  They shared a private giggle.   Would anyone dare mention the professor’s calamity that turned him into a hamster?

“Cinderella,” one of the students piped up.  “Midnight is when she lost everything.”

“But without midnight, she would never have piqued the prince’s interest!” Pearlie blurted. “I’d say that’s gaining something.  I mean, the wedding happened after midnight, right?”  She was the smartest pixie in class.  Hetty was sometimes jealous of how well she could debate anybody--- including the professors! 

“That is a point, Miss Pearlina,” Professor Puffly nodded.  “But that has to do more with how they handled things, not the spell itself.  Anyone else?”

“Sleeping beauty?  Didn’t her spinning wheel have something to do with midnight?”

“Scrooge was visited by three spirits after midnight,” another student volunteered.  “He was doomed to an afterlife of chains!”

“But he changed for the better because of that visit!” Pearlie retorted.

Professor Puffly’s nose twitched.  Clearly this lesson wasn’t going as planned.  The students whispered among themselves as they tried to think of examples.  Hetty wracked her brain for another spell that involved midnight.  There had to be lots!  It was cliché after all.  It couldn’t be cliché unless it was overused.  Nothing came to mind, however.  None except...

In the back of the room, William raised his paw tentatively, “Pardon me, Professor, but I can think of one.” 

The room hushed and Professor Puffly called on him in surprise.  William hardly ever paid attention in class, but that was to be expected.  He was the only woodchuck in the pixie-only course God-Mothering 101 and administration had yet to look at his transfer request.

William glanced nervously back and forth and gulped.  “You and Principal Fennysticks put spells on each other that changed you both into animals.  You couldn’t reverse it before it became permanent...at midnight.”

Even Pearlie couldn’t refute that one.  It was a lot worse being a chubby hamster than an adorable chinchilla.

The Taming of the Turkey

Finish That Thought #21 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: Is cranberry sauce supposed to taste like this? 
Special Challenge: Include a zebra without making it part of the meal

Wishing all Americans a very happy Thanksgiving!  May your turkey be scrumptious and your mashed potatoes be smooth.


 
"Is cranberry sauce supposed to taste like this?" 

Hetty whipped around to find her nephew chewing on a beet, purple juice smeared all over his chubby cheeks and dripping onto her freshly cleaned counter.

“No, no, no, Freddie, those are beets. Go play outside until the food is ready, ok?”

“But I’m hungry!” Freddie whined, chomped up beet still sloshing around his mouth.

“Shoo! It won’t be done any faster if you’re bothering Auntie!”

She sighed as the little nymph made a face, spat out the remains of the beet onto the counter, then sulked out the door. What had she been thinking when she invited her sister’s family over for Feast Day? Straightening her apron over her petal skirt, Hetty turned her attention to the turkey roasting in the oven. At least, it was supposed to be roasting. It looked limp and unappetizing, just like the withered carrots, wilted lettuce, and lumpy mashed potatoes.

“Someday I am going to put a restraining spell on Matilda’s ogre!” Hetty mumbled as she poked her head into the oven to check on the bird. “Just as soon as I learn how.”

Hetty could not wait until she had her pixie license. Not only would she have the ability to cross over to the human world where all the cool parties were, she’d be able to take care of that nasty pet ogre her neighbour owned once and for all, and plant the perfect vegetable garden she always dreamed of having. That ogre always managed to smash her garden to bits.

Stepping back from the oven, Hetty surveyed her hard work with dissatisfaction. She couldn’t serve her family this!

“What this calls for is a little magic!” she decided. Pulling over a stool, she crawled up onto it and reached into the top cupboard where she kept her wand. Her instructor had very clearly stated that the wand should only be used in class, but this was an emergency. Wand in hand, she faced her flaccid feast once again with a determination that would rival a cat after a fish.

“Sparkles, gleams, an untasty feast
Twinkles, shimmers, be edible eats!”

She sang in a clear soprano as she waved her wand around. Glitter encased the poor vegetables, turning them into healthful looking stalks. Hetty squealed with delight.

“And now for the turkey!” Hetty rolled up her sleeves, concentrating very hard on her spell.

“Sparkles, gleams, a yucky turkey
Twinkles, shimmers, be roasted birdie!”

The same glitter snaked its way from her wand to the oven, glowing as it spread across the bird. It started to blacken, then grew. And grew. Hetty watched in amazement as it spilled onto the floor and began to take shape. Then she was horrified! Dropping her wand, she raised dainty hands to her flushed cheeks and fled from the kitchen straight into the chest of her brother-in-law!

“It smells great in here, sis!” he exclaimed. Then he saw it. “Um, Het? What’s a zebra doing in your kitchen?”

Much Ado About Turnips

My first FlashFiction story.  Enjoy!

Finish That Thought #9  (Judge's comments)
Prompt: "If [she] had known [he] would be there again, [she] would have brought [her] [magic wand]."
Special Challenge:  Include at least one original verse of poetry (4 lines)

If she had known it would be there again, she would have brought her magic wand. Honestly, how else does one deal with an eight-foot ogre who insists on eating all of your turnips? Placing neatly manicured hands on her petal-clad hips, she surveyed the damage done by her unwelcome guest as a frown tugged the corners of her pursed lips. Smashed squashes and tangled tomato vines littered what used to be meticulously laid rows of vegetables only hours before. Even her hardy carrots had been trampled underfoot by the clumsy brute which was now digging up her turnip bed with a stupid grin on its grotesque face.

“Ooooo, I wish I could turn it into a frog!” she fumed. “It would serve Matilda right for not keeping her pet on a leash!” However, being only a pixie-in-training, Hetty knew she was no match for an angry witch, and so such thoughts flitted out of her head. Just when she had started to calm herself down, the gruesome creature began singing a ditty while squishing her turnips into jelly.

“Happy ogre smash and crunch
Little turnips for some lunch!
Yummy, yummy for the tummy
Turnip juice is very gummy---”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” Startled, the ogre turned its enormous head to blink its dull eyes at her as pink and purple sparkles shot out from Hetty’s ears, nostrils, and mouth then exploded like fireworks.

“Those are my turnips, you nincompoop!” Hetty screeched, her freckled cheeks now purple with rage. “If I catch you in my garden one more time, I swear I AM going to turn you into a horrid little green frog and then your mistress will boil you in her cauldron!”

But she might as well have said, “Gobblety-gook” for all the good it did. When the show was over, the ogre turned back to its feast and crushed a few more turnips into its mouth. Hetty was just about to storm back to her mushroom for her wand when a long nose snaked its way over her fence followed by a wide-brimmed black hat and drooping eyebrows.

“Ah, there you are, Horace,” a smooth voice cooed. Immediately, the ogre struggled to its feet and trumped over to the fence, produce tumbling from its clothes like dead flies from a light fixture. “Are you helping nice Miss Hetty again?” the voice continued.

“Helping?!?” Hetty squeaked, unable to say more.

“We’re so lucky to have such an understanding neighbour like you, dearie,” Matilda crooned. “Ogres can be such a handful. You are so lucky to have a magic wand to fix all of your troubles.”

Hetty found herself swayed by the enchanting words of the witch, “Yes, very lucky. Have a good day and be a good boy, Horace.” She waved them good-bye and waltzed back to her house. As soon as she closed the little wooden door behind her, the spell broke like a water balloon, dumping reality on her once more.

“Darn witch magic!” she muttered.