#too many puppy dog tails

Marshmallow-Manju gave me the prompt ‘magic, snails, and bruised knuckles’ and this is what I came up with.

Making Friends

Matthew flicked the snail back into the cauldron and straightened his pointed hat with his other hand.  He squinted at the grimoire floating in front of his face.  

“Snips, and snails, and puppy dog tails…”  He muttered, turning the page with a flick of his wrist.  “That can’t be right…”

His mentor had told him to go out and make some friends his own age.

He had taken her advice to heart.

“Oh well.”

He stirred the bubbling pink mixture counterclockwise and lowered the heat until it popped and simmered and darkened.  It was almost red now.  He stood on his tiptoes and peered into the cauldron.  

He had never had a friend before.  His parents had brought him to the old witch when he was four years old and the magic started leaking out between his fingertips and toes.  He lived with her in a thatched hut in the forest and the children in the nearest village laughed whenever the two of them passed through with bundles of dried flowers and clinking, clacking bottles.

So he would just have to make a friend from scratch.

The cauldron started to tremble and shake and Matthew stepped back, raising his arms when it flashed a brilliant white, and tripping over the hem of his cloak.  He toppled backwards into shelves of mint and ragweed.  The jars crashed around him.

“Are you okay?”

Matthew gasped and pushed his hat back into place.  

There was a naked boy standing in the cauldron.  He was paler than he should have been, maybe, and his eyes were the same colour as the bubbling mixture but he was grinning at Matthew.  His elbows were scratched and rubbed raw and his knuckles were bruised.

He looked just like all the little boys in the village who fought and climbed trees and rolled around in the grass.

“Yes!” Matthew scrambled up and helped pull the boy out of the cauldron. “I’m sorry!  Are youokay?”

“I think so.”

Matthew draped his cloak over his shoulders.

“Do you have a name?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  I feel like I have a name.”

“You can pick!  My name is Matthew.  I didn’t get to pick.”

The boy closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and cackling.

“Gilbert!”  He said.  “I feel like a ‘Gilbert’!”

“That’s a wonderful name.”

Gilbert put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in pride.

“Of course it is.”

“Do you…”  Matthew bounced and fidgeted with nervous excitement.  He really liked Gilbert.  He wanted Gilbert to like him too.  “Do you want to be my friend?  I’ve never had a friend before.  You would be the first.”

Gilbert puffed up even more.

“Then I’m going to be your bestest best friend ever.”