The Cauldron

October 24, 2017
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We were proud of our work. My sister and I would go to that treehouse every day. We were like crazed witches concocting a potion. Our cauldron was a simple plastic bucket, and our witches den a small wooden hut, but it was more than that to us. I can remember that smell to this day. It was revolting to the point of gagging, but for some reason it only brings up happy memories of my childhood.

I looked forward to strengthening our recipe every day after school. The glass doors unfolded before me releasing me into freedom. My sister and I ran into the house and gave our mother a hug and a kiss. We told her our day was ‘good’ in the usual monotone voice and asked if we could have a snack. She handed us some cheese and crackers and two glasses of milk and we marched outside. We kicked off our shoes and felt the cool green grass between our toes. We dashed over to the rickety wooden ladder and began our ascent. We could smell our concoction from the bottom of the ladder, but it didn’t scare us away. We made our way up the ladder tripping over ourselves in anticipation.

The entryway was like a wall of stench. The smell was potent from the outside, but the inside was infinitely more concentrated. The smell washed over us as we entered our stinky dwelling; The smell was palpable. We took out our snacks gobbled the up, despite the smell, until we were satisfied. We still had some crackers and milk left over. We leaned over our bucket of goo, a moldy film forming on the top, and we added the remainder of our snacks. This broke the film, adding to the atmosphere of stink. Satisfied, we headed back inside to do our homework.






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