Amphibian

As a Magician, Samuel Klaus Meriwether, was prone to odd behavior, although staring at frogs for strenuous time periods was not a behavior he could claim regular.  Klaus was uncertain, yet he believed it a reasonable deduction that frogs were not supposed to talk. They lacked the correct anatomy to create speech, and they most definitely did not talk to people who were exiting their bathing pools.

He continued to shoot eyeball arrows at the green amphibious mass, as he reached for a towel hanging on the tree branch. Amphibians, while not a baneful existence, were not a pleasant one either. Klaus held onto the belief that there were only two uses for frogs; hexes and stews. A frog that could talk back while being broiled to death was a problem. One that Klaus did not want to confront anytime in the near future. So, he began his morning by ignoring the frog.

“Excuse me, milord,” the frog spoke, “Are you the Wizard that lives in these enchanted woods?”

He knew that it was not meant to be an insulting comment but Klaus could not but help to find the frog’s lack of knowledge astounding. Wizards and Magicians were as fundamentally different as the sun and the earth. Klaus looked past the frog and grabbed his amber towel. Drying off his fishy pale skin, he began to saunter back to the house. It occurred to Klaus momentarily that Wizard, Magician, Sorcerer, and Illusionist had recently become blurry terms. He knew he did not like it. Klaus walked briskly down the path toward his cottage. To his great dismay, the frog followed and felt the need to chat, “So are you the Wizard? Mother said that a wizard lived in the enchanted woods owned by the Duke Argent –“

Klaus stopped, his head turned like a puppets, and his black eyes simmered, “What do you want?”

The frog did not understand the sudden turn from annoyed magician to venomous fiend, and he did not seem to care to, “My mother, the Queen, said a Wizard lived in the enchanted forest that the Duke Argent owned. The Wizard can perform miracles.”

“The land is not owned by the duke,” Klaus growled, “And if you mention him again, I will cut your legs off and eat them.”
“Why?”

Klaus glowered at the little lime amphibian, “I happen to like frogs legs”
Klaus stampeded the rest of the way down the path, his anger causing shadows to leap and darkness to spurt. It was creeping towards the frog at a slow pace. Klaus felt the void’s wish so strongly he almost tried to decapitate the frog himself. He whipped his head around calling back the entity that gave him his abilities. The frog had no idea how close Klaus had been to mutilating it. Klaus brushed a strand of black out of his face. His damp long hair dripped down his back, which proceeded to give his flesh goose pimples. The spring air was brisk and the walk chilly. As he approached the cottage he felt the fury die as he saw the primrose bush bursting into blossom. He nodded at the spirit of a songbird as he passed.

“Why?” The frog’s whiny alto voice annoyed the magician.

His long spidery fingers reached for the elaborate bronze door handle. He grasped it lightly wondering what he would do about the frog. So he proceeded to do the one thing he could, in good conscience. He slammed the cottage door behind him. To his surprise instead of the blissful silence he expected, he heard the cacophony of sound that a human voice in a frog’s throat made. Klaus opened the door to glare at what he assumed would be a half crushed frog. He was wrong, to his disappointment; the frog was uncrushed.

“Can I come in?” the frog’s voice was screechy.

“No,” Klaus knew the frog would get in somehow so he left the door open. Dying frogs were better than dying children but he could not decide whether or not that included frogs who happened to be enchanted princes.  Following a short hall down to his room, Klaus walked over to a wicker basket full of black clothing. Fists clenching on the top two pieces, he did not care if they were clean or dirty. He pulled the shirt over his head and slipped the leggings on. Returning to the fore room, he glared at the frog. The frog sat on the couch and croaked. Klaus sighed, wishing it was a more morbid sense of croaking.

“Can you change me into a prince?”

“I cannot be bothered with foolish wishes,” Klaus slammed the front door for effect. It normally made his visitors a little more cautious and jumpy. When he thought about it making a frog more jumpy seemed like a beginner’s mistake. The frog shot into the air in surprise. If he had been three more centimeters to the right, Klaus mused, he would have been a toasted frog. The lamp dangled dangerously in response. He shook his head it was going to be an incredibly long day.

It was indeed, a day full of time that Klaus was sure would never be revived from the morbid death it suffered. The frog belched and chatted, a dreadful combination. Klaus learned nothing over the course of four hours. The only relevant information gleaned from the interaction was that the frog had been enchanted by an evil sorceress to be a frog until a princess kissed him.

The sorceress had to be a genius. Klaus wondered if she would mind if he replicated her spell. An image shot through his mind, fiery hair and hazel eyes. He shivered maybe he would not try to replicate the spell.

“So, will you help me?” The frog asked while Klaus washed dishes. Washing dishes was an easy way of seeming more natural to his guests. Why he felt the need to be “natural” instead of “supernatural” around a talking frog was one of the many questions of life he didn’t feel like thinking about.

“The sorceress already told you how to fix your problem, “Klaus sighed these cursed creatures never realized that it would be much easier to follow the instructions given to them instead of seeking out another magic user.  He washed the tea cup that had been filled with tea before his bath. If he had been a Wizard he could have told the water in the sink to clean all of the dishes by itself and used the time to do something else. He sighed, instead he was a Magician, and the preparation for a cleaning spell would just cause more of a mess and be harder to clean. In the end Klaus did not want to mess with the cleaning spell. He glanced at the moping frog, he also was not going to mess with a Witch’s spell especially without knowing what class Witch she was. He shivered again.

“What princess would kiss a frog?” the frog whined.

“A desperate one?” Klaus dried the dish he had been working on. The frog hopped over and sat on the clean rack of dishes. Klaus felt every fiber of his rope of patience strain and snap. His mind filled with murderous intent. He picked up the frog, and shoved it out the door, “That is a question for you to search out the answer to. I cannot help you.”

Once again the frog was outside, it whined, “Why did you put me outside? Do you know who I am? I am the prince of the neighboring kingdom, Prince Antonio Van Jaegenstein…”

Klaus blotted out the rant, stared down at the frog, and did what he had wanted to do since the frog spoke to him.

He punted the frog across his garden and into the forest.

The frog was never heard from again.

Red

A torn red cape surrounded by flowers, hid the child. Samuel Klaus Meriwether could see the small frame beneath it and wondered if the child had died. There was dried blood on the little leg that peaked out from underneath the cape. A long healing scratch adorned the skin above the ankle.

He reached toward the hood believing it best that he check. Children were his weakness after all. He noticed the entire picnic basket she carried was full of banana bread and wine. It was a reasonable deduction that she had strayed off the path and into the poppies by accident and that she had been alive during the past twelve hours.

He pulled the hood off and sprung backwards. The child to his surprise stayed asleep. He now had the chance to study her. Being of darker hair and skin tone than Klaus, he imagined she was from one of the western villages. She was too light of coloring to be from the east, and too dark to be from the north. Her brown hair was cropped in a style Klaus didn’t recognize. It had been some time since he had been to the west, he did not travel much anymore. While studying her Klaus breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that the minute girl was breathing, and her complexion was healthy.

“Hey,” he called loudly.

The girl didn’t move.

“Hey.”

She groaned, her large honey eyes opened, and blinked twice, “huh?”
“Do not sleep there,” Klaus offered the child a willowy hand. The dainty girl tilted her head like a confused puppy as she allowed Klaus to help her to her feet. Her fingers grasped his as he lifted. Smiling he imagined if he had put any force into the pull he could have shot her into the air. Now that she was standing he could see she was older than he originally thought probably around nine or ten, instead of six. Her face just beginning to loose it’s baby-like roundness, but not enough for her to look like an older child.

“What are you doing here forest man?”

 “I am here for ingrediants for a sleep potion.”

The little girl looked confused.

He pointed, “For the poppies.”

“Oh,” she looked at the flowers and grinned, “They are pretty aren’t they.”

Klaus studied the orange red poppies and nodded, “Yes.”

The child smiled at him, “Well I thought I would pick a few but then I got sleepy.”

He shook his head did parents not warn their children about the forest? He sighed, “The flowers are a sleep aid. Sometimes when they grow wild like this they cause sudden drowsiness.”

“Oh,” she looked intrigued. Her cape flapped in the wind, “I was going to pick a few for grandma.”

“Here,” Klaus handed her a few pre-plucked poppies out of his bag. They were not specimens he could use.

The little girl’s face lit up as she took the flowers, then it fell as she seemed to realize something, “Oh no! I told mother I’d go straight to grandma’s house!”

Klaus’ black eyes twitched as the little girl left without so much as a ‘thank you’. Watching her run down the right fork in the path made him nervous, but he could not say why. He turned back to the bed of poppies, systematically plucking the ones that looked more red than orange. They would be the main ingredient in a sleeping potion he was working on, the seeds and red petals of the plant were useful in spells having to do with sleep. Hands working furiously, Klaus looked up. The sky had turned black; the wind’s breath carried with it the scent of rain.

Klaus let his mind drift for a minute before caution won. Standing this close to the Tanglewood was not a good place to let a wandering mind travel; it also was not a habit to develop around poppy plants. He stood up, stretched and checked his inventory. The thought that he may have to come back for more poppies annoyed him. After counting, he decided he definitely had enough for now. He may have to come back in a week but he had enough to experiment right now.

Looking both left and right as he stepped onto the path, he began to walk. The forest folded around him, the Briarwood faded away, the Tanglewood behind them, and he made it through the Hollywood, and stumbled through the Sleuthwood. When he reached the point in the path where the four woods converged he let himself relax. There, a little past the cross roads, was his cottage. His cottage was too large to be a normal cottage but too small to be a house, most days. Today the cottage had made itself into a rather large home with vaulting doors and huge windows. The magic of the cottage would allow it to accommodate any person. Klaus did wonder why he had a cottage that was tailored to visitors but it had not occurred to him to change the magic. Thus the home changed more frequently than he would like. The cottages tall appearance now, meant either he was going to be entertaining a giant, or a certain somebody had waltzed in and began to raid his ice box. As of recently he knew no giants in the area, he walked up the two steps. A canine of undetermined breed and lineage stared at him and barked. Klaus shook his head. Apparently his visitor was already inside his home. He patted the large black and tan mix absently as he reached for the door knob, “I assume that your master tangoed his way into my home and is determined to raid my ice chest before I catch him in the act.”

Klaus opened the door. The dog tried to follow him inside but Klaus successfully maneuvered the “squish self to keep dog out trick” and managed to not harm either of the participating parties.

“How did ‘ya know?” The huge man’s beard was covered in crumbs, some were darker than others and Klaus had to wonder whether the man had found the chocolate too.

Walking around to the workroom, Klaus dropped his inventory bag, “You are the only person who would let themselves in to a magician’s cottage uninvited.”
The good natured giant laughed, “Only magicians I know!”

“What do you want Rip?”

“Can’t a man say hello to an old companion without raising suspicion?” Rip asked taking a bite of what appeared to be bread.

“Normally,” Klaus turned back to view the quiet man.

Rip sighed, “Well there’s something.”

Klaus stare hardened.

“Have ya noticed any wolves around recently?”
Klaus proceeded to get the tea kettle out of the kitchen, “I live in the Enchanted Woods. There are always wolves.”

 “Not like the one that the Village of Tears has seen.”
Klaus put the kettle on, “Hmm?”
Rip’s body grew tense, “It’s not a pretty thing Klaus. With ya living here I thought the villagers would be safe from stuff such as this.”

Klaus waited for the story patiently, and got cups and saucers out of the cupboard, “Stuff?”

Rip was silent, which was a strange occurrence. Klaus stared.

“Sorry, just recalling,” Rip’s face paled, “Yester eve, I went to see a friend of my wife’s –“

“The wife that thinks you are a no good, lazy, thieving –“

“Shut up and let me talk,” Rip growled, “I went to see my wife’s friend Maeve in the Village of Tears because I heard there was a wolf problem. I thought that me and Bo could handle it. I walked up to Maeve’s door and a neighbor, shaky thing, stopped me. Told me not to go inside if I wanted to keep my sanity –“
“Of course due to the need to feel like a contrary genius you opened the door.”
“Shut up,” Rip’s hands clenched, “Bo started barking and that’s always a sign of nothing good. So I opened the door just a crack and a smell something foul blows out the door. I know that smell so I opened the door all the way.”

The kettle whistled and Klaus got up to grab it. He brought two cups of earl gray back with him, “Continue.”

“I don’t want to,” Rip shook his head, “It was bad Klaus.  What happened there was bad. I found Maeve, what was left anyway, but her little girl, Scarlet, was nowhere. It looked like she might have made it out but…”
Klaus watched Rip’s face turn from pale to green. A flash of a crimson cape entered Klaus’ mind. A sleeping little girl in a poppy field grinned at him, “Forest man?”

“Did she wear a crimson cape?” Klaus asked, knowing the way of visions.

“She got it from ‘er ma on her seventh birthday,” Rip looked up from his tea, “How’d ya know?”

“I saw her. Less, than two hours ago,” Klaus stood up and took his cup to the sink, “I was collecting poppies for a sleep potion that would work for up to seventy hours. It is a terribly easy potion but it is hard to find poppies the right shade and age.”
Rips’ face regained color, and he sloshed tea out of his cup in excitement, “Was Scarlet alright? How’d she look? Why was she out in the woods?”

Klaus took the tea cup from Rip afraid it was going to get damaged, “Fine, just like any other child. A little scratched up but from what you saw I say she looked like she got away without whatever it was noticing.She said she was on her way to grandma’s house.”

Rip nodded and stood, “Her maternal grandmother lives in the Briarwood. I’ll go see if she got there safely.”

“Do that,” Klaus took Rip’s tea cup to the sink and said lightly, “Stay on the path.”

Rip grinned amiably, “Only for ya.”
Klaus watched the big man exit the house, call to his dog, and begin down the path. He shook his head; the girl was not his problem. The girl was Rip’s problem even if Rip was not the most responsible man, the girl would be fine.  He took the tea cups in hand and began to scrub. His eyes followed the silhouette of the giant man until he could see no more of him. Then Klaus began to count out of habit.

“One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven – “

An elderly man was walking up the path toward the cottage, leaning on a cane, long beard swaying in the wind. Klaus put down the tea cups and towel. The old man did not walk far when Klaus went out to meet him. Giving the elder a friendly pat on the back he asked, “Did you find Scarlet?”
“Who?”

“Scarlet, “Klaus helped the bearded man to the bench that was now in the garden, “The girl who went to her grandma’s after being attacked by the wolf?”
“Ah, did that just happen?”
“Yes.”

“No, I never got there,” the old man’s gums showed when he grinned, “Fell asleep ya know. Ya tell me the story when it’s over.”

Klaus sighed, “If you weren’t an old man, I would toss you out.”
“Well toss me out when ya see me next,” the old man cackled.

“Yes, Rip,” Klaus exited the garden, “I will do that.”

He heard Rip’s laughter as he started down the path, thinking about how his friends were an untrustworthy lot. He grimaced; he was always doing their jobs.

Klaus was not lost; to be lost you had to have a destination to begin with. It also was impossible to get lost in the Enchanted Woods if one stayed on the path. Klaus was just wondering how to get to the grandmother’s cottage the fastest. He was standing at the poppies and trying to remember if the child had taken the left fork or the right one. While he would get there either way the agility of the voyage would be faster if he took the same path the girl had taken. He eventually decided the right one. The path in the Enchanted Woods depended on what forest the person was traveling through. Where Klaus lived the path was cobbled, in the Hollywood it was groomed sand, in the Briarwood it was a dirt path; which didn’t explain why the path had suddenly become pitch black. Klaus grabbed for his bag, and scrambled inside pulling out a necklace with a shield spell, and several vials, he thought he had labeled. The pitch black path signaled he was in the Tanglewood, the darkest parts of the Enchanted Woods. The grandmother’s house should not be there. He followed the dark path, each step making him realize that this was a new part of the Tanglewood, a section that had not been there yesterday. He grimaced, something had happened at the grandmother’s house to allow the Tanglewood entry. He turned the corner and stared.

It looked normal. There was no dark shadows, no worn or shabby paint, nothing decaying. It looked like a perfectly pristine cabin with ranch windows and green shutters. The garden was just passed its height, as most gardens were that late in the summer, and the dirt path leading to it was reminiscent of the Briarwood. Klaus’ paranoia took over. The normalcy of the cabin was the Tanglewood’s way of saying something was happening inside before it could be absorbed into it.

Klaus approached it cautiously. The door was slightly ajar and a window was open, but other than that there were no signs of evil. Then he heard the voices.

“Better to see you with, m’dear.”

“What big hands you have!”
“Better to hug you with, my dear.”

“What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with!”

Klaus did not hear the child’s laugh, as he burst through the cabin door. A sick slurping noise was coming from the bedroom. Klaus pulled the necklace over his head, hoping that whatever was in the room wasn’t powerful enough to shatter his spells. The Tanglewood did have some residents that Klaus feared. Creatures that could back bend spells making the user either unable to attack or defend. He shuddered and drew a vial of, who the hell knew what. He wished he had labeled the bottles.  He slowly pushed open the bedroom door; it got caught on something halfway. Klaus had to put a little weight behind the second shove

The door flung open. Inside was what Klaus’ nightmares did for a living, the smell of death and fear rolled through the doorway. The little girl’s amber eyes were dilated as they stared at Klaus. A wide innocent smile, stained red, made her face the remnant of angelic. Her brown hair dripped with red liquid and pieces of something Klaus imagined had been inside a body. He felt removed at times from humanity, but this carnage was horrifying even to a Magician of his years.  He stared at the tanned delicate fingers that held onto his a few hours earlier; underneath each fingernail was dried blood. In those hands were an arm and a lump of meat. Klaus guessed that the meat was from the headless torso lying sideways across the bed.

“Hello, forest man,” the little girl dropped the arm and lump. It landed with a sickening thud. The lump oozed a bit before becoming solid again, “Have you come to find the big bad wolf?”

Klaus held her gaze; her smile grew wider, showing her canines. Scarlet began to move slowly toward him, leaving rusty handprints across the floor, “The wolf says we should eat the forest man. Do forest men taste good like grandmas?”
Scarlet’s eyes narrowed and she sprung towards Klaus. She bounced backwards; the shield spell did its job as the necklace gleamed. He watched her right herself like an animal. She growled, “Wolf says that you are a Magician not forest men, Magicians are harder to eat.”

“I suppose,” Klaus began to back out of the room, holding a vial in front of him. He now knew that the shield spell worked but he was not certain the vials were going to be any help at all. He thought about the items in the pack, wondering if he had anything useful for this situation. A list that gave him some hope, if the item he thought was in the bag was actually in it.

“Do magicians kill wolves?” the little girl’s voice asked out of the creature stalking him.

“Some,” Klaus took his backpack off his back slowly, keeping eye contact with the predator, “But not little girls.”

Rummaging through the backpack was hard when staring a predator in the face. His hands finally found the long stick he was looking for; he hoped the spell in it would be enough. He tossed the backpack over his shoulder. An empty laugh sounded, a strange noise coming from a child’s throat, “Which are we magician? Are we wolf or girl? Can you decide?”

“You do not need to be either to be a monster,” Klaus replied. He had almost made it to the front door of the cabin.

“Really,” The little girl’s head tilted, amber eyes unglazed, “Do you think we are a monster?”

“Yes,” Klaus drew the stick out in front of him, he was finally outside, “But you are also a child.”

Scarlet tried once again to launch herself at the magician, the stick in Klaus’ hands began to glow and he threw it in front of the door. Scarlet flopped in the air and was held in place by a thorn bush, she snarled biting it in an effort to escape. Klaus watched as the cottage grew dark, both the spell and the Tanglewood’s doing. His spell made thorns, poison ivy, and myrtle grow around the cottage forming a sealing spell, to protect things from inside and out. His sealing spells always took the form of plant life most used in the wood he was in. He also had to craft them from that wood. He was going to have to find some sticks after this ordeal. He watched until the whole house was covered looking like a mismanaged piece of the forest.  Klaus looked at it sadly, and walked down the path to his home. It was a much shorter walk this time, as the woods flew by, he thought of the child’s golden eyes. He shook, thankful that whatever she was, she had not been as powerful as his magic. f

The pitch path turned to cobbled road where all four woods finally collided. He was home. Old Rip Van Winkle still sat on the bench, his long beard flapping against his shoulder. Klaus walked into his garden and sat beside him.

“You knew,” Klaus’ stony gaze held the old mans, “You knew.”
“Aye,” Rip patted Klaus on the back, “But don’t I always?”

“Yes,” Klaus ran his fingers through his long brown hair, “Is she going to die like that?”

Rip’s glance was not reassuring, “No, Miss Scarlet Red Wolf won’t die, she’s a creature of the Tanglewood now, partially due to that sealing spell ya used, and part due to her own choices.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Old Rip stood up and stretched, “Well I’d best be on my way. Hate to be here when young me shows up in twenty years.”

Klaus gave a pitiful chuckle, “Of course twenty years is a long time.”

“No,” Rip grinned, “Not for us folks.”

Klaus’ eyes grew cloudy as he stroked the woodwork on the bench. A realization had come to him, and it was an unpleasant thought. His normal goodbye phrase was no longer a suggestion but a warning. He looked at Rip and said darkly, “Stay on the path.”
Old Van Winkle nodded, “That’s how it’s supposed to sound.”

Klaus counted as Rip walked down the path and disappeared, neither Rip returned

He whispered to himself, “Stay on the path. There are dark things in the woods. Stay on the path.”

Love Potion

Dr. Samuel Klaus Meriwether was not an actual doctor, but a magician. He had earned the title doctor, when he had concocted a potion for turning lizards purple that coincidentally, saved the town from a plague. Although he was the savior of the small hamlet, the people still feared him.  Supposedly he was a legendary evil magician. His careful crafting and being friends with two of the most noteworthy inhabitants in the Enchanted Woods had landed him the title of legendary. His behavior towards visitors vicious, he imagined that is the reason he was given the title ‘evil’. Though living in the middle of an enchanted wood and hoarding a small fortune tended to make humans skittish and that could have been the reason. So, he preferred to live in anonymity, rarely dealing with the people who bothered to seek him. Even if one made their way to the cottage, the likelihood that he would see them was low, and it was a more destitute likelihood that he would go seek company.

So why was there a child at his doorstep?  The snow was thick and the little child’s hands were blue. Klaus’ black eyes glared at the kid through the sliver of glass behind the curtains. A knock sounded. He leaned to the side catching a glimpse of an orange striped hat through the window.

“Doctor Meriwether!” the small voice squeaked, “Doctor Meriwether!”

Klaus sighed deeply and opened the door to the house. The child’s bright blue eyes stared up at him. A rather fair child, sweet blond ringlets, round face flushed due to the cold. Klaus imagined how he looked next to the child. A dark, looming figure, with black hair and even blacker eyes, two of the prices he paid for immortality and youth. The only similar feature a skin tone of Northern heritage, light like the snow around them. Midnight and dawn stared at each other.

“Are ya’ Doctor Meriwether?” the child’s voice squeaked.

“Yes.”

A hopeful grin cascaded across the flushed face, “Doctor Meriwether, papa is sick, and the neighbor says that ya’ can potion make something for him to get better.”

Klaus blinked a few times, wondering if the sentence made any sense. He decided it didn’t need to; he understood what she was trying to say. The child beamed at him. He glared back at the light blue eyes, “No.”

Slamming a door in the child’s face was not the most considerate thing to do; but who sent their child into a blizzard to ask the “horrible” magician for a potion? He heard the sniffle that begot tears from the other side of the door. The child was not his problem. The village was not his problem. These were things that he was not responsible for; had he not learned his lesson with the plague? He listened for a minute at the door, there was no answering sound.  He smiled regretfully as he walked back to his vials and books. Obviously the child wanted to save her father only in theory. His rueful smile continued as he made the potion that would heal all mortal afflictions of the flesh; a potion that could have cured the child’s father. It took him two hours to complete and the snow outside had progressively gotten worse. He wondered if the child had made it home. Walking toward the door, he looked outside. To his shock and dismay, there lay the child, breathing heavily on his porch covered in snow.  Swinging the door open, he scooped up the girl and brought her inside.  More dismay entered his conscience as he realized the child had not been wearing a coat. Her little boots, her cotton dress, and her tiny striped hat were all soaked.

He scrambled through the house, looking for something warm. For a brief instant he wished he was a wizard. Wizards could persuade the elements, and it would be easy to warm the girl. He realized his foolishness quickly. He pulled a terrific feather comforter off his bed and went back to the small frame. He wished he had the time to prepare spells but as the petite form shook, he knew that there was little. Justifying his actions with the thought that he did not want to see a child die, even though that was the same justification he had used to stop the plague: He still regretted that decision. He wrapped her in the tremendous feather comforter and set her on a couch by the fire. Eventually his work won, defeating the Winter Empress’ death that had been creeping up on the small frame.  He sighed, exhausted, as he fell into the chair beside the fire. Why had she not gone home? He turned to the potion that rested on the table and sighed.

He worked hard to gain a reputation dark enough to keep the town folk out of the forest, he was about to shatter it.

The child mumbled as she batted her long eyelashes open, “Papa?”

“No.”

Her eyes widened and she turned away from him. Klaus watched as she took in her surroundings, slowly growing less fearful as she saw how “normal” his dwelling was. He even saw a glimpse of a smile when her eyes landed on his pair of songbirds happily tweeting in their cage. It was their chatting that finally won the child enough courage to look him in the face. “I’m sorry Doctor Meriwether, sir. I didn’t thought you would have to go and saves me. Thank you sir, but I do need a potion for papa, he’s sick.”

“Here,” Klaus held the vial in his hand, he already was regretting it; “I will need payment.”

“I don’t haves money sir,” the little girl’s eyes began to leak.

“No, an answer to a question will suffice,” Klaus could not believe himself when he asked, “What is your name?”

“Willow,” The girl grinned, “Willow Cline. Can I have the potion now?”
“Yes.” He handed her the potion, “You father must drink it twice a day for the next week.”

 “Yes sir,” Willow nodded, “I’ll make sure sir.”

She grabbed the potion from his hand, like a dehydrated man for water. Her little fingers grasped it tightly. The two birds tweeted and whistled to the child in encouragement. Klaus slightly smiled, “Take care little one, stay on the path.”

Willow waved at him and ran through the snow. The child looked like a rabbit, he mused as she got further away, hopping instead of trudging. The fear that a child would have died on his doorstep haunted him, as he watched through the mirror to be sure she did not stray. She waved up at the sky as if she knew her watcher. Klaus shook his head, “Humans.”

He stopped attending her, the mirror went opaque, magic no longer coursing through the surface.  He let himself wonder what would become of the little girl, and decided he would never know.

He was wrong.

The Winter Empress’ breath turned into the Spring Princess’ laugh, and every day of springtime the child came with flowers in her hands to give to the magician. A small gift, given in thanks for her father’s life. Though he grumbled about it to Willow’s face, he enjoyed her presence after a hundred years of solitude. He thought after that first spring she would never come to see him again. Klaus did not regret it, to his surprise every spring afterwards she brought him flowers from her family’s flower shop.

“Why are you here again?” Klaus glared at the young woman, her long blond ringlets spinning sunshine into the room.

“I have a request,” she glittered at him. He swore that every time she entered his cottage she came into it to make it uncomfortably bright.

“What is it?” he asked darkly. Her bubbly attitude was neither infectious nor annoying, but it did drive him insane when she came during the spring.

“I am in love.” She grinned at him, her songbird voice giddy, “But there is an itty bitty problem.”

“He doesn’t love you?” Klaus guessed, knowing how human brains worked.

“Well sort of,” she sat down in Klaus’ chair, “It’s more he doesn’t know I exist.”

Klaus thought that over, any village boy would have noticed how much his little one had grown. She was an embodiment of sunshine and roses. Her eyes rang with the freedom of the sky and the depths of the sea. Golden tendrils fell past her waist in curls both soft and sweet. Her form, while not dainty, was curved into perfection. She was neither too tall nor short but the perfect average of her parents blend. Willow was as wonderful if not more beautiful than princesses in fairy stories. He made the reasonable deduction, “So he’s a noble of some sort?”

“Yes,” she spun around making her look like she was the child he had saved once again, “He is the Duke Argent that rules the territory.”

Klaus froze a memory of silver hair and a slick smile entered his thoughts, “What does the duke look like?”

 “He has chocolate curls and eyes the color of the forest in spring. He is tall and kind. Why?”

“No reason,” Klaus smiled, “Continue.”

“Well, he helped me up when I fell during his village inspection, you know the one the nobles do every year? I was so lucky. I have been in love since my eyes met his.”

Klaus almost made a snide comment but instead asked her the question she wanted, “What would you have me do?”

“A love potion,” She suddenly became very serious, her eyes dark, “And I need it before the month is out.”

“That is a short time to create a love potion,” Klaus had perfected such potions and was able to concoct them in a kitten’s hearts breath but that did not stop his impulses from wondering why she needed the potion so quickly.

“I will need an antidote as well, of course,” she continued, not bothering to satisfy the magician’s curiosity, “Just in case.”

“Hmmm,” Klaus nodded. Although, it was better for his little one to understand that the Duke, while being a handsome man might not be a handsome person. “You do realize he might be a terrible being?”

Willow grinned, “Of course, that is the reason for the antidote.”

“Alright then, I will make your potions.” Klaus sighed and stood up, “I need you to get me some ingredients.”

Her joy sung through the air, “Whatever ya need.”

“Willow bark, witch hazel, Acacia blossoms, Lavender leaves, rain flower, red rose petals, purple lilac bark, red tulip bulbs, and I think we should have some Rosemary just in case.” He listed the items knowing that each plant was a powerful symbol.

“Oh,” she said worriedly while she wrote. Her face grew increasingly shadowed.

“Yes?”

“He also has a lover,” she grimaced, “Is there anything you could do about that?”

“Such as kill her?” Klaus was disgusted he would never hurt a human. He would ignore them, but not hurt them.

“No, such as make him forget,” Willow’s eyes darkened considerably, Klaus saw no sunshine in them.

“Love potions that I make cause people to forget their previous loves anyway,” Klaus explained, “You will be fine.”

“Really?” her face brightened considerably.

His smile held reassurance, “Yes, go home now get the ingredients and we’ll start on the potion tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much Dr. Meriwether.” She kissed his cheek and laughed as she ran out the front door.

He sighed, women were such work.

The potion should have taken a mere week to complete, but as Klaus was quickly learning, with Willow there was no such thing as “should have”.

“Do I put this in now?” Willow asked holding up a vial filled with a liquid, which looked as foul as it smelled.

Klaus stared at the vial, “What’s in that?”

“The stuff that was on the table,” Willow answered grinning.

Klaus walked over to her side, picked up the vial, gritted his teeth, and proceeded to dispose of  it most efficiently.  The sound of exploding flowerbed echoed through the cottage.

“Don’t touch anything.” Klaus turned back to the table where he had been measuring out ground tulip bulbs, “Please.”

It almost seemed like Willow could not help but touch the potion ingredients and each time she did another disaster occurred. So far she had turned the entire cottage lilac, lit water on fire, and managed to gas every inch of the house with a toxic secretion that Klaus dreaded was the next weapon of modern war. Klaus degraded her from potion helper to house cleaner.

“Klaus?”

“What,” he studied the vein on a red rose petal wondering if it was new enough to be used in the potion.

“The birds are gone,” Willow whimpered.

“What happened?”

“I think I left the cage open,” Willow sounded like she was about to cry.

Klaus’ curiosity got the better of him and he exited his work place. There Willow stood birdcage in hand, two missing birds and the house was filled with flower petals. Her hair was a fluff of disaster. He reached out and smoothed a lock around her face a puzzled look on his face.

“What –“Klaus thought about it, pulled his hand away, quickly turned around, and slammed the door to the workroom. Some things were better off not knowing.

He did his best to keep her out of the workroom, and she did her best to destroy his gloomy home with strange occurrences. Cleaning meant making things look better, Klaus could not understand how “looking better” translated to “sparkly shiny”. When he left his workroom the first time he had decided not to ask, when he left it the second time he decided not to come out again.

The next week passed by in a flurry, Klaus, to his wonder, survived. Willow unknowingly, caused property damage. When he finally finished the potion and the antidote, he was mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted.

He left both potions on the table with a note for her, the note read: “Love potion, blue. Antidote, pink. Let me sleep.”

Falling onto his bed, he stretched out. He did not hear the door open nor see Willow take the potion and smile at the bedroom door.

He woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed. The sleep had been long, and he had not been plagued with dreams. He stretched and stood up slowly. It was enlightening how quiet his morning was. Walking into the other room he noticed the pinkish red bottle that held the antidote was sitting on his table still. A note was written back “Thanks!” There was a heart at the end. He sighed; of course the little one had forgotten the antidote. He shook his head and smiled slightly, “What a troublesome child.”

He picked up the antidote, magically summoned his clothes, and opened the door. Outside on the step was a dead songbird. Klaus did not stop to think about the portents of such a thing, he closed the door behind him, noting to pick up the bird later. He strode down the path. Everywhere there were flowers, and as he entered the hamlet, the more festival like the place appeared. An arch of white roses stood in the center of town.  “Hey sweetheart,” a woman grabbed onto his arm, obviously struggling to walk, “Do you want to be my date to the wedding?”

He glared down at the woman who smelled of cheap alcohol and even cheaper sex, “Thank you for your kind invitation but I must decline I do not associate with women who under value themselves.”

“Bastard,” the woman hissed as she walked away. He sighed; he could not understand that behavior. After a moment of overthinking, he assumed the wedding was between the duke and Willow. It did not occur to Klaus to question the speed at which the wedding was happening. He had never been to a wedding before and he did not know the customs involved. But he had to hurry to catch up to her so she would have the antidote as an insurance policy.

He spotted her laughing in a crowd of people. Gratitude filled his heart as he walked swiftly toward her, he would be able to leave these people to their festivities and return to the forest once his little one was situated.  He walked blindly into the crowd, until he was close enough to see who she was talking to. An older rich man stood next to her with his arm around her side. Klaus felt sudden heat enter his blood stream as anger filled him. Who was this to be touching his little one?
“Willow,” he called out, “You forgot this!”
His hand reached out with the antidote. She did not take it from him. Their eyes met briefly, daybreak and twilight, hesitantly searching. Her gentle voice, the songbird’s sweetness, lightly asked, “Who are you sir?”

Klaus’ black eyes widened, his hands started to shake.  A dry throat tried to find words as he stared at the stunning lady before him. His little one, his fairy princess, he reached out to her his pale hand trembling as realization hit him. His fingers had almost brushed the wayward strand of sunray from her face when the elder man beside him pushed him away, “Stay away from my fiancé.”
“You are the duke?” Klaus’ felt his heart hammer in his chest as he waited for an answer.

“I am.”

“Oh,” he felt the water begin to form in his eyes. Tears did not come easily to immortals; black drops fell down his face.  He had never felt the need to cry before. He stared at the enchanting woman, a long white dress made of satin and crystal hung on her sweet form. The dress would have cost a fortune and made her look more like a creature of the fairy realms than that of a human child. Diamonds hung around her neck, flowers woven through her hair, in her hands the bouquet that was going to be used for her wedding.

“Sorry sir.” She nodded at him and turned to chat with her husband to be.

Klaus’ emotions seemed numb as he walked out of the village in confusion. What had happened? He watched his feet on the dirt path trying to put meaning into the event he had just witnessed. He began to follow the path back to his cottage when he heard the whispers of village women on the wind.

“Poor girl, to be given to an old man in exchange for money.”

“Didn’t she say she wanted to go see the wizard to do something about it?”
“You mean the man she loves? I think so, I wonder if he didn’t care.”

“He is an evil magician after all, turning that poor family into spiders. He also ate those poor children. It’s amazing she even came back.”

Klaus stopped and took purposeful steps toward the two women. She was bought? Why would her father sell her? What did the woman say? His voice stressed when he asked, “What did you say about the girl?”

The two elderly women looked at him curiously. The one with a large brimmed hat answered, “You mean about being bought?”

“No,” Klaus heard how desperate his voice sounded, “The next part.”

The other woman was an elder of the village; old enough to remember him during the years of plague, and Klaus knew she was trying to place him in her mind. He did look the same as then. Once she did realize who he was she looked at him sadly, “She loved the magician. That’s why she always ran into the forest with flowers in her arms.”

His eyes widened, he turned.

Klaus watched as the woman who loved him, walked away with another man. 

Welcome!

Welcome to A Time For Stories. An experiment in short story writing.

This brain child of mine has been floating around for at least a year, maybe more.

The whole idea behind this blog is to tell the story of  Dr. Samuel Klaus Meriwether in a non-linear fashion. My goal with these stories was that you could read one individually or try and figure out the time line they fit in. As there are many stories to be told that Klaus has had an effect on. Including my own. Each piece of the story fits one more puzzle piece into place.
Hopefully you enjoy my fantasy short stories and even recognize a few.
Welcome to A Time For Stories.