The Recipe

Grenda shoved the Eye of Innocence a little too harshly, nearly spilling it and the other twelve forbidden ingredients from the secret shelf.

“Oi Witch! Be careful!” shouted Brenda.

“What are you doing?” added Kendra “we don’t need anything from there.”

“I’m looking for the crystal pestle” snapped Grenda “You know we need it.”

“Of course I know we need it” shouted back Brenda “That's why I already got it down you thistle brained hag”

Grenda stormed down from the secret shelf, her measuring spoon held sinister “I’ll thistle your brains into hag pudding!”

“Sisters oh Sisters!” pleaded Kendra. “This magic can only be cast today. Try and behave, keep your tempers at bay”

Grenda grimacingly ceased her measuring spoon assault. Brenda held out the crystal pestle with both hands and gave a little curtsy “The pestle, my dear sister” said sweetly enough to diabetically shock an oliphaunt.

Brenda stoked fire in the oven with logs of fir, carefully harvested from the depths of the forest. Kendra worked the dough with age knobbled knuckles, mashing together powder and paste until it was smooth like a newborn childs face.

Grenda gripped the crystal pestle, her eye begging to water, her fingers hinting to tingle. The mysterious spice was there, obtained at great expense from the red clad stranger. Grenda hand paused over the bowl of dark seeds, then darted away and poured something else into the grinding chamber.

Grenda ground the alternate spice, filling the air with scents of despair. “No no dear sister” whispered Kendra, freezing the dough with the ice in her tone, “That's the wrong recipe.” Even the oven fire began to still, such was the chill.

The crystal pestle tinkled to the floor as Grenda released her grip and clutched her hat. “I don’t think I can do this anymore” Grenda suddenly burst into tears “This is far beyond what we ever set out to do. Its, its, too much.” Brenda and Kendra dropped their work and came together with their sister.

“The recipe, the ingredients, this is not us, how could we even think of casting such a spell?”

Brenda one of Grenda’s hands, Kendra the other. “Think of the rewards, the riches. This is our chance.” Whispered Brenda.

“We can do it, as long as we do it together, we can do anything” Reminded Kendra.

Brenda and Kendra started the familiar chant, “always the Three, sisters are We, free as can Be” Grenda joined in, and was calmed by the seven refrains. Grenda dried her eye, and the three witches clasped fingers, forming the ancient hyrogram, reaffirming their eternal bond.

“Thank you sisters. Now, let me see that recipe” said Grenda with renewed vigor.

Kendra cut the dough into the bizarre shapes as dictated. Brenda fetched the pail and went to collect the animal extract. Grenda retrieved the crystal pestle, and this time ground the proper spice. The witch's hut filled with the unusual scent, sending Kendras' third nostril into a prolonged sneezing fit.

After the dough was baked, the trio carefully applied the spice as prescribed in the recipe, forming swirls and angles and lines and spheres. With kidskin gloves, Kendra arranged the finished delicacies onto a mystical serving platter, while Brenda poured the extract into a carved onyx goblet.

“Now what?” asked Grenda. “The recipe doesn’t say what happens next.”

“The last child we had for dinner told me,” replied Kendra. “Now we go to bed, and we must go to sleep. The magic doesn’t work unless we are asleep.”

The trio of witches went off to bed

Visions of magical gifts in their heads

The recipe book on a page colored red

Milk and cookies for Santa it said