Jenn Monty’s Picture Choice: Both
Title: Dinner Party
The body pushed up from the marinade; tender limbs struggled to break free. Salt glistened on the palms. The witch noticed the commotion with exasperation. The sleeping potion should not have worn off so soon. Her apprentice must have done something wrong. She took the form of flight and went over to the body. The witch hovered just above the digits and pecked the fingers with her poisoned beak. An inky spell spread through the fingertips. Veins of black swirled down the wrists and into the torso. The additional spell would leave a taste but there was no other option. Maybe a little more thyme would mask the bitterness.
The magic took root and the body went rigid, then soft. The arms fell back into the vat of spices and oils. The witch looked at the moon; just a few more hours according to her calculations. Once the moon was at its highest point, she could remove the heart and dice the body meat. This was her grandmother’s recipe; the timing had to be just right. She left the body to finish marinating and flew over to her apprentice. The witch landed on messy dark fingers. Her apprentice was preparing the New Moon Cake and the black dough stained anything it touched. Another family recipe – this time from an aunt with a passion for the Dark Arts.
The witch transformed into her human state and addressed the apprentice.
“You screwed up the sleeping potion and the main course was writhing around the pan just now.” “Oh Mistress! I’m so sorry.” The witch could see panic lighting the girl’s eyes. Fear was always a joyous thing.
“If it’s ruined be assured I will cook you in its place,” the witch replied. “How is the cake? Is it almost ready for the oven?”
“Yes, Mistress. I just need to add the final spell,” the girl replied.
“Remember, just a drop or it will be too sweet.” The witch watched closely as the apprentice removed the bottle of Children’s Laughter from the shelf. Too much and her lovely black cake would turn glitter pink and be sweeter than a unicorn’s ass. If done correctly though, the Laughter would offset the Broken Heart just enough to amplify the overall flavor. A small layer of Passion mixed with raspberries was drizzled on top. The effect was better than human chocolate.
The witch heard a knock at her kitchen door. She turned to see her father standing in the door frame. He breathed deeply then smiled.
“Hello, my sweet Genevieve. It smells wonderful in here.”
“DADDY!” The witch darted to hug her father. “You’re early. But I hope you like your birthday dinner. I’ve made all your favorites!”
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Jenn Monty, also known as Brewed Bohemian, is a lover of Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Horror and anything with "Punk" in the name. She is an avid reader and writes flash fiction at www.BrewedBohemian.blogspot.com