Originally hosted on https://illoria.wixsite.com/annamittower/anthology-of-speculative-scribbles

“Where is my wand?” Esmera said, exasperated. “I just had it…” She rummaged in the piles of objects on the floor. Her floor was an extremely convenient place to dump her possessions, but it was almost impossible to find anything once it had been relegated to a pile for storage. Haphazardly stacked books waiting to be organized, worn-out clothes, bags of herbs, and utensils in varying degrees of usage comprised only a portion of the conglomeration of objects on the floor. The fairy was currently on her knees, arms buried nearly up to her shoulders in the pile of herbs in front of her. Dust and crushed dried herbs clung to her dress, turning it from a light blue into a nondescript grey. She sneezed violently, causing more dust to fly into the air, and she kept sneezing until she held up the object she had been looking for—her wand.

“Got it!” she cried. With this she quickly retreated out onto the wooden balcony, the slim, birch rod in hand, ducking under bunches of herbs hanging from the rafters. Half blinded by the force of her sneezes, she felt her way to the small table which displayed the remnants of a partially consumed afternoon tea. She downed the last of the tea in her cup, ending her fit of sneezing. Esmera went to refill the cup, but the silver teapot was empty.

“I’ll have to make some more now.” She eyed her piles on the floor ruefully. “Too bad I can’t remember where the unopened jar of nectar is. Blast it! I just finished the last jar to make this pot and there’s no time to look for the new one. That rabbit seems to have the most ill timing of any creature I’ve ever met,” she said, shaking her head. Peering over the smooth, peeled branches of the railing, she spotted a seemingly ordinary, brown rabbit hopping through the forest along the trail below. The rabbit’s movements created a peculiar sight as he would stop every few feet and reach his paw into a hole. Then there would come a loud high-pitched squeal as he pulled out a field mouse. A dull thump from the stick in his other hand would silence it. He would then toss the stunned mouse back into the hole and hop forward to the next hole to repeat the process. Esmera became more agitated, and angry, by the second. Sparks sputtered from her wand as she twisted it in her hands.

“That-that-rabbit! I’ve warned him a dozen times, but does he listen? No, he doesn’t. I’m going to have to teach him a lesson and soon. I never thought he was going to be this much trouble.” She glared at the rabbit as if she could kill him with a fierce stare. Indeed, if she was capable of doing so, the rabbit in question would have been dead a long time ago from her many incensed glares. Esmera put her hands on her hips, set her lips in a firm, straight line, and was about to march down the stairs when an idea halted her in her tracks. Her eyes closed and she stood there grinning triumphantly.

Opening her eyes, she cackled and said, “Oh am I going to teach that rabbit a lesson today!” She paused, thinking, and then flew over to one of the bookcases that was actually organized. Grabbing a worn book off the shelf, she dropped down onto the floor, her blue skirts spreading airily out around her, causing a miniature mushroom cloud of dust to billow out.

“Now let me see…how to turn a transformed rabbit back into a rabbit…how to turn a rabbit into a dog…ah here it is, how to turn a rabbit (or a hare) into a goon! Perfect.” She studied the spell for a moment longer and then snapped the book shut, coughing as it exhaled a puff of dust. “Now to go use it on that rabbit. What was his name again? It was something silly, I know. Oh yes, Foo-foo! That was his name. So I’ll say that his three chances are up and that I’m going to turn him into a goon.” She practically danced down the stairs. “I’m such a genius! Now he’ll never bother me or those field mice ever again.”

A short while later Esmera floated back up the spiral staircase and rummaged around for her new jar of nectar. For in fairy society, it’s extremely embarrassing to run out of hot, nectar tea.

END

Author's Note:

As promised! A not dark story for the first time. Can you guess which children's song I based it on? I'm 11 years older than my sister so I listened to all her children song CDs along with her and many of them became so ingrained into my head that I had to turn them into stories. I can still picture the CD covers even now. My birthday is this month so I had to pick one of my favorite stories I wrote to publish this month~

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