The Magical Elixir

The Magical Elixir (375 words)

Willem had just discovered that it takes about three seconds to fall from the top of the King’s Tower in the Kingdom of Pie. A sharp bolt of magic had zapped him from his perch atop the tower. A magician by trade, he was used to this kind of thing, but the whole experience had soured his mood a bit. He lay on his back, amongst the weeds at the foot of the tower, considering his options. He contemplated joining his cousin’s bakery business in the village; volatile bread accidents in the workplace weren’t a thing, he thought.

The world ran on magic. It brought all of the latest technology to life, from indoor lighting to the auto-cart-n-wheel-mobiles, and Willem’s job was to conjure up magical solutions for paying customers. He had just about finished the new external lamp arrangement on the balcony of the King's Tower when his wand backfired and sent him flailing to the ground. He’d forgotten to conjure a safety harness, not for the first time, nor the last.

He picked himself up, dusted himself off, doubled over and said: “Ooh, me back.” His apprentice, June, came running over to him, holding a steaming mug of what appeared to be some sort of tea.

“Park leaf tea, boss,” said June, handing over the hot mug. “It’s got medicinal benefits, boss, it has. I keeps it at hand for such occasions.” She gestured to her coat pocket, stuffed with brown, crispy leaves.

“Right,” said Willem. “Great. Thanks.”

“Anytime, boss.”

Willem took a noseful of the tea. The scent brought tears to his eyes. When he exhaled, several nose hairs evacuated in haste.

“Try it,” said June, with an encouraging nod. At that moment the sound of the noon-bell echoed around the city, and she turned towards its origin.

Willem grabbed this opportunity with both hands, so to speak, and emptied the mug of dubious tea into a bush. “Mmm,” he said, “delicious.” He gave June a pat on the back, in a way that indicated it was time to hobble back to work.

As the magician and his apprentice ascended the tower, a rather bent over, scraggly bush sat up straight in the afternoon sun. It hadn’t felt so good in years.