The Sorcerer

Wormaw sat in a dark corner of the bar. He chewed tobacco. The bar seemed deserted, even though it was open. He turned his head and spat the tobacco into his hand. It was instantly incinerated.

“Nice trick Wors,” spoke a deep voice. Wormaw heard but did not stir. “Look at this one,” the voice said. In front of Wormaw, a small ball of tobacco entered the world and seemed to be tossed towards his face. Wormaw batted it away.

“I know how to make you go,” said Wormaw.

“No you don’t.”

“Oh.” Wormaw reached into his red silk coat, which was embroidered with triangles and spheres of blue and green, and recovered a small ring box. He opened it. A young woman, quite pretty, sat there. She had blond hair and wore a minimalist blue shirt and a short blue skirt. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen, although it was difficult to tell this as she was less than an inch high.

“Hi there Leah. I forgot all about you, sorry about that.” He was smiling in a way that seemed kindly.

“Please Wormaw. Release me. I’ll do anything you want, anything.” Her voice was strangely, magically audible in spite of her size.

“You wouldn’t last a minute out there hon. You’re only three quarters of an inch tall. You would be food for a big old rat.”

“A rat!” she cried.

“But maybe I’m wrong, let’s find out.” He picked her up carefully between his thumb and index finger.

“No, wait!” He placed her on the floor beside the leg of his table. She stood there, frozen with fear. “Please, Wormaw.”

“You’re very pushy this year. I just gave you what you wanted.”

“Make me normal again, please.”

“Shh!” he said, as though he was frightened by something and desperately wanted to listen. For a moment there was sheer silence. Then a scurrying noise could be heard near the kitchen. A large rat appeared. It looked right at her and broke into a run towards her. She ran and screamed, but it was too quick and it caught her and carried her, screaming, back towards the kitchen. Within several seconds there was silence, which lasted for a few moments.

“I can’t believe you let that happen,” said Wormaw. “Poor Leah. She was always so afraid of rats.” There were a few seconds of silence. “Are you gone at last?” More silence. Wormaw drew a handkerchief out of his silk jacket and rubbed his sweating brow with it. He stood and walked hurriedly out of the bar, into the dark.