The Icky Green Goo

April 7th, 2009 |

Cythia pointed her wand at the little bottle. It floated up into the air, hung there for a moment, then slowly made its way toward me. I held out my hand to receive the green liquid filled glass. The vial settled in my hand and began to vibrate.

I wasn’t expecting the bottle to move, it startled me, and I jerked my hand nearly dropping it. Before I knew what was happening, two faeries swooped in from either side and caught it before it could tip and spill its precious contents. “This potion takes weeks to brew, we do not have the time to start all over again.” Frowning at me, Cythia held onto the top of the bottle with one hand and shook her finger at me with the other. Arial clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, her eyes wide with surprise at Cythia’s impertinence.

I was a little surprised at the Cythia’s pluck as well. “I’m so sorry, it’s just that I didn’t expect the bottle to move on its own!” I wrapped my fingers around the container and Cythia moved back, obviously annoyed at my clumsiness. Arial continued to giggle softly.

Turning my attention to the liquid in the bottle, I noticed that it was slowly swirling and twisting in on itself. The viscus solution was shot through with veins of black and silver. It might have been my over active imagination but I thought that it looked like it was listening to us, the way that it would start to twirl faster when I spoke (I have way to many “Harry Potter” moments lately).

“Okay, what is this stuff anyway?” I held the bottle close to my mouth when I said “stuff” and watched the green goo twitch excitedly. “It doesn’t look to appetizing.” The two faeries exchanged a nervous glance. “What?” It slowly dawned on me what I was supposed to do with it. “You don’t want me to drink this icky stuff do you!?”

The two faeries chimed in together, “It’s the only way!” I carefully placed the container on the counter and rubbed my face. I knew I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear. “You might as well tell me what you want me to do. Come on, get it over with.” I pulled out a stool and sat down. I thought that it would be better if I were in a sitting position to hear the plan.

Arial spoke first. “Every faerie has their own energy signature, rather like your finger prints. We have been able to pinpoint exactly where Krystal is being held and our initial suspicions were correct, she is being held in your neighbors dwelling. Her energy is growing weaker so we have very little time to waste.” I was right, sitting down was better than standing up.

Cythia continued. “Since the shape shifter is magical by nature, we can not enter her sphere of influence, she would know immediately. You, on the other hand could walk in right under her nose and go undetected.”

I jumped up, almost tipping the stool I was sitting on over backward. “Hello! Big person here!” To make the point, I turned around, sweeping my hands from the top of my head down to my toes, then back again. I struck a, what do you think about that? pose with my hands resting firmly on my hips. “How am I supposed to walk in over there?” Just the thought of entering that persons (or what ever she is) house made me want to hurl.

“That is where the potion comes in. It is a shape shifting potion that will allow you to take the form of the first thing that you touch immediately after drinking it.” I pictured the funny scene of Bill walking in and finding me looking like a potted mum. I would shake my petals at him and ask, “what would you like for dinner tonight hon?” He’d probably faint on the spot.

“I don’t think Bill is going to like this plan, besides, what am I going to touch that will get me in there unnoticed? I can’t go as a plant.” The potted mum image sprung to mind.

Cythia had a smug look of satisfaction on her face. “We have a better idea, look out your window.” I leaned over the sink and looked out. Down on the patio, I saw fourteen faeries, the emerald guard and two flower faeries, all pointing their wands at a midnight black cat that was being held, with what looked to be quite a bit of effort, suspended in mid air about four feet off the ground.

The cats back was arched and it had its claws fully extended. It was spitting and hissing as it struggled to free itself from the binding spell that held it captive. I looked at the two faeries that were floating by my side then back at the cat. “You don’t want me to turn into that do you!?”