This is today's offering (day 155) for @mydivathings' #365daysofwriting challenge (click here to see her current post)
Today's picture prompt (below) is a Photo by Karina Vorozheeva on Unsplash
This can be read alone or, if you missed them, you can find the first five parts by clicking the links below:
Part one: @felt.buzz/outwitted-a-little-bit-of-fiction-for-365daysofwriting-challenge
Part two: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-2-a-fictional-tale-for-365daysofwriting-challenge
Part three: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-3-some-fiction-for-365daysofwriting
Part four: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-four-a-work-of-original-fiction-for-365daysofwriting-challenge
Part five: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-5-original-fiction-for-365daysofwriting-challenge
I sat on the cushions and sipped the hot, spicy tea, the girl had sweetened with honey, before pouring it from a great height into a delicate bowl. My head was beginning to feel less fuzzy, and I was able to think more clearly. I wondered if I should try to escape. But I assumed that either my sister, or her old mentor, would stop me, if I tried. Or perhaps that is what they wanted. For me to leave, and allow them to disappear again.
When my sister vanished, that first time, it was the beginning of the end for my father. I remember the look on his face as he stood in that room, ankle deep in the strange layer of cloud. The windows had been blocked up, wood nailed over them to stop light coming in, or - as I had thought at the time - to prevent me from seeing what went on in that mysterious room. Jake’s father took his axe to the wood, and sunlight suddenly streamed into the cold room. There was no sign of Grevyl, or my sister. There were three large tables covered bottles and jars, of various shapes and sizes. Some were full of coloured potions, others unusual herbs, some were empty. Or at least, appeared so. And in the middle of the room sat some kind of strange device, made of shining metal, with cogs and wheels, and chains. My father looked hopeless, as he tore open cupboard doors, turned over tables, even sweeping his hand into the strange cloud to see if my sister lurked within.
I am not sure what made me do it, but I took an empty jar from the table next to where I stood, and whilst my father searched for my sister, I scooped some of the cloud into it. It seemed almost alive, swirling around its glassy prison. I stuffed it quickly into a pocket, before my father turned around.
“They are not here!” he said, tears of frustration or rage in his eyes. “We will search the house and grounds!”
The next three hours were spent scouring every nook and cranny of the Big House, it’s grounds and out houses. Of my sister and the strange old man, there was no sign.
My father instructed Mrs Karn to take care of me and my mother, whilst he took Fade, his favourite horse from the stables, and rode out into the night, to fetch the magistrate from the village. After a supper of soup and warm bread, I took to my room, itching to examine the contents of my stolen jar.
The night was starless, but warm. My room was dark, and the candle flickered in the gentle breeze from the open window, sending eerily shapes scurrying up the walls. I closed the window and drew the heavy curtains, before peeking out into the corridor to make certain that Mrs Karn was not likely to disturb me. Satisfied, I quietly closed my bedroom door.
I pulled the jar from my pocket and held the candle up to examine its contents. The cloud within appeared to pulsate. It was alive, I was sure of it. Carefully, I unscrewed the lid and poured a little of it onto my hand. It sparkled as it pooled in my palm and then, as I watched, it’s form changed. It was dust, now, twinkling in the light of the candle, a beautiful mixture of colours I had never seen before. And as I watched it flew into the air forming a circle and then went in on itself before vanishing with a loud crack and a flash of light that left me blinking for minutes afterwards.
...
Part seven: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-7-an-original-fiction-tale-for-365daysofwriting-challenge