Goblin in boots

Friday Fictioneers

Time for penning those magical(or mundane) 100 words or so for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s wonderful site FF.(For more information and fun ,go to http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/12/11/13-december-2013/). Rochelle always manages to set the bar high with her excellent writing and this leaves writers like me scratching their heads and staring blankly into space.This time was no exception, with my migraine being the icing on the cake.So without much ado,let me just get down to posting my 102 words story(including the title)based on this photo prompt ,provided by Adam Ickes:-)

Copyright - Adam Ickes

                                               Copyright – Adam Ickes

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Goblin in boots

 

Goblin Trotsneak sat on a toadstool weighed down by over sized boots, looking morose.

His mischievousness had cost him his freedom.

Everyone had warned him but paying no heed he had gone skipping.

He was confident he would not get caught.

First, he had switched potions gleefully.

Then the boots on the windowsill beckoned.

As he was dropping them into the cauldron, Grey Witch had flown in and cast her deadly spell.

“You dared enter

a witch’s haunt

forever now bear the brunt

the boots you touched

will grow on you

for eternity may

the curse be on you.

 

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Cursed

Friday Fictioneers

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields,our host at FF and writer par excellence,wants us to write a 100 word story based on this picture prompt,this week:-)

                                                                        Copyright – Sean Fallon

 

Ah,now if only I had not lost my magic pen-what?Okay,okay the magic mouse and the magical keyboard!Sigh-such nitpicking!

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Cursed

Just as Cecelia’s lips met his, he heard an angry hiss.

“You, a mere mortal dared touch a witch’s daughter!”

“But Ma, Horace loves me!”Cecelia cried.

“Wench! I will deal with you later.”

With that she zapped Cecelia who disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Horace knew he was in dire trouble when she pointed her wand at him and began chanting,” Blood run cold, skin turn white, break into parts and turn into doll !”

 

Horace’s head hurt.

 Opening his eyes, he was shocked to see his naked torso and legs nearby.

His life as a mannequin had begun!

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