A cauldron of trouble

It was time. His sweating palms grasped at the flower, petals shaking with his nervous jitters. The last ingredient. The cauldron sang it’s dark, hungry voice begging for more. It clawed at him, tasting the flower –

“Will you stop that!” He screamed. It stopped, meekly it’s soul returned to it’s boiling mass. He dropped it in. The liquid engulfed it, tiny waves overlapping until the flower had completely disappeared from sight. After a moment of silence, he smiled, his spell had worked –

“MORE!”  The mixture screamed. Oh no. The liquid turned to mud, spilling over the sides of the cauldron. Well, that was enough trying for one day, he thought. Walking out he locked the door behind him and started his journey to… anywhere, other than here.



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