Short Story Collection: Volume 1
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Note: These have only been released in audio format. There might be some errors, which as I see them, I will edit in due course. Thanks for your patience.
Tina’s Tea Kettle
The smell of lemon and lavender waft over you, slowly awakening your senses. Down the hill, someone must be making tea. Now, as you awake from your nap, You have a hankering for a walk so you rise slowly from the hammock that’s stung between two large oak trees. As you look around, you notice that a misty dew is coating the grass at your feet, making you comfortably cool on the warm afternoon. The sun shines down on your face, warming the skin just enough you can feel it tighten slightly, tasting the light saltiness in the air whistling in off the sea.
You slide your feet into your shoes, and you slowly head down the cobblestone path, letting yourself take all the time you want. As you walk, you see a young witch waving wildly to her mother as the woman approaches their cottage, back from her morning errands.
You have to smile, seeing the young girl jump up and down enthusiastically as her mother, beautiful woman she is, bends down and scoops the girl up with one arm.
The quiet squeal of delight reaches you as you pass, and you pause, just for a moment, to watch her youthful exuberance. Wind sashays past you, gently pressing your long, flowy tunic around your body. It reminds you of when you were young, when you raced up and down the hills, sometimes on foot, other times on broom.
As the memories flood you, you continue to walk down the path. Every now and then, a stone on the path skitters along at the touch of your foot.
As you pass the river mouth at the edge of Delgin Village, you see a couple of young mer girls playing together. When they see you, they flap their shiny, turquoise tails out of the water and wave shyly at you. The sun reflects off their scales. Their glowing hair floats out like sun rays around them in the water. You raise your hand and wave back.
As you walk, you cross a small bridge into the outskirts of Delgin. The trees grow more sparse here, but little houses and shops spring up from the earth like they have always been here. Like they always will be. Maybe they will. Not much changes around here.
Delgin is a little village that’s just a brief walk from your humble cottage. You come here most days, share a conversation, visit the many shops, enjoy the friendly atmosphere before walking home under a beautiful setting sun, sky streaming with pinks, oranges, reds, and purples.
Today will be no different. As you walk down the Main Street, quiet chatter filters out windows like butterflies float on a breezy day. Lazily, almost noncommittally, you listen to the sing song voices filter by you.
From time to time, you slow to a stop, and browse a shop window full of supplies. Cauldrons, broomsticks, wands, night bane, lilac, all different things and shops. Each carefully displayed.
You find comfort in the randomness of it all. It’s like someone, somewhere, was counting on you to stop at this moment, to browse their window, and you quite like that. Warmth spreads through you, from toe to tip of nose.
You continue on your stroll. A little wizard, no older than two, goes running by. You see him lose his footing, and you wave your hand at the ground in front him, conjuring a small but plush purple, velvet cushion for him to land on.
His mum, a kind looking woman with flaming red curls, scoops him up, thanking you as you just smile and pass by. As you pass, the cushion vanishes with a little popping noise.
You keep walking, winding around to the spot you most want to be. You know that if you walk long enough, far enough, you’ll arrive at the most quaint little teashop called Tina’s Tea Kettle.
After winding around, you approach the shop. Smells drift out the open door, coating you in cinnamon, lavender, lemon, and nutmeg. While strong, the aroma is comforting, not overwhelming.
Once you step into the shop, the pretty round faced woman behind the counter lights up, practically glowing as she gestures you forward, already pulling an oversized burgundy mug from the cabinet and waving her hand, starting your favorite brew.
Cranberry and pomegranate, a thick red colored tea.
The appeal of Tina’s Tea Kettle is the ambience. Quiet conversations. Magic brews. A rich fragrance.
The room is full of patrons, most settled on overstuffed old sofas, sipping quietly while they chatter with a companion.
You on the other hand, prefer the big armchair by the door, enjoying the quiet moment of companionship that comes with comfortable silence as people nod and bob their heads at you as you take a seat.
You stay there, sipping away, for quite some time. Eventually, the woman behind the counter, Tina, brings you a big puffy scone, rich with butter and it all but melts on your tongue.
You pull a book from within your tunic, and you read quietly as the day dwindles on.
From time to time, you speak to someone passing by, but you always return to the weathered book in your hands. Occasionally, you stroke the rough cover. It’s not until you notice the afternoon sun slipping down the horizon that you stand and stretch your limbs.
As you leave the shop, you take in the sunset outside. The sky is beginning to stream with fluorescent shades of pink, orange, purple, and red, burning away the remaining light like a wildfire. Out of control. The beauty is almost too much.
You stop and stare, letting noise tinkle around you. The evening air is thick with scents of cooked meat and spiced desserts. You can vaguely smell apple pie coating the evening air, begging to be devoured by some family.
Eventually, you move towards the exit of Delgin’s perimeter. The town noises make way for nature sounds. Birds chirp, dogs barking, splashing from nearby water.
As you amble back home, the birds begin to swoop low across your path, and you watch them making their way home, too. Flying back to nests of babies with worms. You smile at the cycle of life around you.
When you make it back to the cottage, you open the big green door, cross the threshold, and slip your shoes off. As you shut the door behind you, you smile out at the last burning embers of the day as they stretch across the flaming sky. Like a good mug of tea, it warms you to the core.
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