Love Potion No. 8
The same magic exists in the power of a suggestion as it does in a potion. Fantasy flash fiction.
Twelve-year-old Charlie Whitmore walked into Madame Tulane’s small, discreet shop on the outskirts of James Township. The bell above the door jingled, and he was met with the aroma of incense and tea leaves. A yellow warbler in a wood cage hanging by checkout eyed him with suspicion, announcing the boy’s arrival with intermittent chirps. As to the bird’s owner, there was no one in attendance.
The entrance to a back room was visible behind a display case, and a sign nearby advertised that apothecary supplies were available upon request. The soft clinking of glass beakers and the faint sound of bubbling liquid, followed by occasional stirring, could be heard in the distance. Charlie didn’t know what apothecary was, but assumed the noises must be related.
Metaphysical and spiritual products saturated every wall and display table. Not a single area was spared, except a path to walk, which was composed of a rickety wood planked floor, squeaking wearily every time Charlie took a step.
There were books on witchcraft, spiritualism, potion making, the healing power of crystals and pamphlets with detailed instructions for the laying on of hands. Next to CDs advertising self guided meditation there were scented candles, oils and packets of herbs.
A corner curio cabinet caught Charlie’s eye. It was full of glass bottles containing colorful, swirling liquids, twinkling in the sunlight cast through a stained glass window. Two copper chains held a handmade sign above the cabinet. Painted on it in cursive was the word Potions — the real reason for his visit. He immediately walked over to the case, scanning the contents of the bottles and their labels.
Taped to the inside of the cabinet was a small sign. Locked. Please ask for assistance. On cue, as if sensing his frustration, a voice called out from behind the counter, startling Charlie.
“Madame Tulane, at your service.” the woman said.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Charlie said.
“The eyes can be deceived when the heart is distracted.”
“Huh?”
“A determined focus such as yours, all other matters secondary, means that you’re preoccupied with something of great importance. Or, someone. A girl perhaps?”
Charlie blushed at her candor. Madame Tulane was of indeterminate age, youthful, but possessing an heir of wisdom beyond her years. Her sandy-brown curly hair was swept up into a bun, but it was held together haphazardly, strands of it shooting out around her bangs. Her blouse and dress were brightly colored, rings adorned most of her fingers, and several mystical charms of varying lengths hung on chains around her neck.
“My brother said you make potions,” Charlie blurted. “You made him a potion that helped him pass his math test. He got an ‘A’, which is crazy, because my brother never gets good grades. He studied for a week straight after drinking it.”
“Ah yes, I remember him. He was quite nervous about the prospect of summer school,” she said. “Potions are expensive. If I’m not mistaken, that one in particular cost him six month’s allowance.”
“I have money,” Charlie said.
“Fame and fortune are fleeting, but love can press upon our souls for an eternity. It is love, is it not?”
“Uh, well yeah. There’s a girl in my class, Allison. Whenever she talks to me I get nervous and sweaty. She laughs at my stupid jokes, but I’m too afraid to ask if she likes me back. It’s like… well, maybe you can make her like me?”
Madame Tulane leaned forward across the counter, her hands firmly planted, seriousness settling on her face.
“The heart is a muscle that can be exercised willingly, but if you force it you risk permanent damage. What you need instead is a potion of fortitude. For that I have just the thing!”
Madame Tulane walked over to the curio cabinet of potions, then turned to Charlie. “Ah yes, you’ve had the key all along,” she said. Reaching by Charlie’s ear, she pulled the key from thin air, to his astonishment. After unlocking the cabinet she grabbed three bottles, and then closed and locked it once again.
She set the potions on the counter, each labeled with ink numbers on the cork, descending from 10 to 8. The price tags were moved to the front of the bottles so that Charlie could see what they cost. His anticipation turned to disappointment, realizing he could only afford the last, a reaction that Madame Tulane handled with the utmost sincerity.
“These are in order of potency, and therefore, cost. I dare say that a 10 might be too much to handle for a young man of your age,” she said, moving it aside.
“This here is number 9, assuredly providing you with a knight’s courage, but it was concocted by my elder sister, Rue, and it can sometimes have unpleasant side effects,” she said, moving it aside as well.
“Here, number 8, a fine concoction, providing you with every ounce of bravery required. There is no question about its effectiveness.”
Charlie dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled up wad of cash and coins. Madame Tulane began untangling the mess and counting out the denominations. When she finished, Charlie was only five cents short. He hung his head in shame, discovering at his feet a shiny nickel in plain view. He excitedly picked it up and laid it down on the counter.
“The universe is smiling on you today,” Madame Tulane said, pushing the bottle toward Charlie. “The instructions are written on the back. When you get home, follow them closely, and I’m sure the sparks of friendship will be kindled into something more.”
Charlie picked up the bottle and rushed to leave. From behind him, Madame Tulane called, “Charlie!” The boy, full of expectation, turned to face her. “Remember, bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but the willingness to act despite it.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said, flying out the door, wondering how Madame Tulane knew his name, since he had never given it.
Dear Reader: This week I submitted another short story for publication consideration. It went over to the fine folks at Uncharted Magazine. I excitedly await their reply, so that I can inform you of my success, or so that I can post it here at Future Thief for your enjoyment. In the meantime, I hope you found this fantastic tale entertaining.