“Girls, it’s time to stop playing and help me get dinner on the table. Sorcha, Mirilyn, you two go out to the garden and dig up a basket of potatoes and half a basket of carrots. Winter, you can help me snap beans. Now everyone, scoot!”
Winter giggled as Grandma Maria brandished her spoon at her and her sisters, but they all moved to obey. Grandma Maria might look funny shaking her glyphed focus object, but she was also known to apply it liberally to shirking backsides and none of the girls relished a spanking today.
Six-year-old Sorcha and Mirilyn grabbed baskets and headed out the sliding glass door into the garden while four-year-old Winter went to the apron rack and pulled on her strawberry-printed one. She checked that her white pigtails were secure and went to Grandma to have her tie the strings.
Grandma Maria cinched the little apron around her and playfully tugged one pig tail. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.”
Winter laughed at the tugging and went to the wide double-sink, climbing up the step stool to reach the faucet. As she soaped her hands she surveyed the kitchen. Three fruit pies cooled under the window and on the long bar were six plump chickens and an enormous bowl of green beans. She rinsed her hands, climbed down the step stool then back up a barstool to sit in front of the bowl. Quick little fingers were practiced at snapping the beans and separating out any blemishes from the large colander where the freshly snapped pieces landed.
Grandma Maria watched her for a moment, then nodded, apparently content with Winter’s technique, and turned to the chickens. “What should we do with these, Winter? Something lively, I think. Let me see what I have in the pantry to give them some zip.” She set her spoon on the bar and headed into the deep, cool pantry where her cooking spices were kept separate from her potion ingredients. Grandma Maria was a potion master—maybe one of the best in the world—and she had promised Winter that she would teach her all she knew. They had already begun doing simple potions together and Grandma said that Winter had all the makings of a true potion master.
Winter eyed the chickens and Grandma Maria’s focus object as it lay beside them. Lively? She wasn’t sure what Grandma was looking for in the pantry, but she was sure that she could help. She glanced over her shoulder at the pantry door. She really wasn’t supposed to touch the spoon without Grandma Maria being with her, but she was right in there. It should be fine.
Winter picked up the spoon, smiling at the little tickle of power she always felt when she touched someone else’s focus object. She pushed the green bean bowl to the side and knelt up on the barstool. She held the spoon aloft, closed her eyes and said, “Lively.”
She opened her eyes and looked at the chickens. They looked the same to her, pale and lying on their cutting boards. What had she done wrong? Oh! She squeezed her eyes shut and put Command into her voice. “Lively!”
She opened her eyes and squeaked. Oh blast! Maybe that was too much Command? The chickens certainly looked different now. They were no longer on the cutting boards. Instead they were dancing on the counter!
Winter looked panicked over her shoulder toward the pantry, then back at the chickens. “Stop! Stop it! Lie down!” The chickens ignored her, which Winter thought was very rude. She smacked the nearest one with the spoon. “You lie back down, right now!” The chickens began to dance in pairs, moving in complicated patterns as though to music only they could hear.
Winter heard a gasp behind her and turned guilty eyes to Grandma Maria. Grandma’s face was stern, but her eyes were alight, and Winter thought she looked like she was shaking a bit.
Grandma held out her hand for the spoon. Winter swallowed and handed it to her. Grandma shook her head and her voice resonated with Command. “Revert.” The chickens each found their cutting board and laid down, stilling under Maria’s gaze.
Winter looked up at her great-grandmother. “I was trying to help.”
Grandma Maria let out a laugh and then couldn’t seem to stop. She finally choked out, “Help by snapping beans, Miss.”
Winter’s cheeks pinked, and she quickly got back to snapping.
Grandma Maria swatted her lightly once with the spoon, moving to season the chickens, still laughing to herself. “Lively chickens. I can’t wait to tell Katherine.”
A. E. Lowan is the pseudonym of three authors who collectively create the dark urban fantasy series, The Books of Binding. If you liked this flash, there is more original short fiction on our website. You can read more about Winter in Faerie Rising, available on Amazon now.