Plague spread fast, culling old and young. The King summoned his wizard.
But the plague summoned first.
“He died,” said Abigail, his apprentice.
“Then it’s hopeless,” the King said.
“But he found a cure!” she protested. “A potion. He told me the incantation, most of the ingredients.”
“And they are…?”
“Badger’s eye, baby’s hair, hawk’s egg, elm’s bark—“
“Those we can find. What else?”
“One herb,” said Abigail. “It won’t work without it.”
“What herb?”
“He only said ‘Time is of the essence’. Then he died.”
“That’s that, then,” said the King. “Pity. Sounded promising for a minute.”
Author’s Note: If, as a reader, you find puns distasteful, I’d suggest there’s a lot of my writing you probably shouldn’t read.
[…] at any rate) of my drabbles with SpeckLit, which appeared back on June 30th and is titled ‘I’ll Never Have That Recipe Again‘. Make of it, dear reader, what you will […]