Greener on the Other Side



  Copyright 2014 Sarina Dorie

  Cover Art by Sarina Dorie

  Discover other titles by Sarina Dorie at:

  https://www.sarinadorie.com

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  Greener on the Other Side

  By Sarina Dorie

  Morwynne the semi-wicked witch stirred her cauldron over the hearth. Golden light danced across her visage, the rest of the cottage cast in shadows. “Bubble, bubble, toil and. . . .Toil and—Oh, blast! I always forget the last part.”

  “Ahem.” I cleared my throat, passing up an excellent opportunity to snatch up a fly floating above the jar of bat wings on the table where I perched. “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘trouble.’ And if you’re going to do it correctly, it’s ‘Double, double,’ not bubble, bubble. . . .”

  The witch turned from the fire, her good eye cast upon me. The vivid azure contrasted sharply with the other one which was white with cataracts. “Nay, Prince Charming, ‘tis rubble. Bubble, bubble toil and rubble. . . .Fire, fire, burning higher, make this spell something. . . .uh, liar . . . sire . . . pyre. . . .”

  I rolled my eyes and ribbeted in vexation. It was bad enough she was so cliché, but she was beginning to lose her memory. Not that this was always a bad thing. This might be an opportunity for me to undo the spell she had cast upon me. How I wished to be a human once again.

  I hopped across the cluttered table of ancient volumes, magical herbs, and animal bones. I hid behind the basket of poisoned apples.

  The witch stared up at the ceiling, scratching her wart-covered chin as she tested rhymes. The cat was out of view. The chubby child locked in the cage near the door paid me no mind. Even painted in shadows as he was, I could observe he was far more interested in the crusts of sugar still stuck to his fingers.

  I leapt behind the hourglass and shot out a green, webbed hand to turn the page of the spellbook. It opened to the page I had marked; the spell for restoring frog princes back to their normal selves. My heart raced with excitement.

  The child stopped licking his fingers long enough to tattle. “That toad touched your book again!”

  Blasted little brat!

  “I protest! I am not a toad. I’m a frog,” I corrected.

  Morwynne returned the page to the spell she’d started. She squinted at the spell book on the table. “Eye of newt, toe of—”

  “Dog, it definitely says dog,” I quickly supplied. I hopped to the far side of the table and leapt onto the grimy stone floor to hide behind the broom where it leaned against the bookcase. Waiting in the darkest corner, I remembered the last fiasco when she hadn’t been able to read the fine print of the spell book.

  She shuffled over to the spice rack on the wall. “Where is the baby venom?”

  My eyes swiveled to the canister full of shimmering blue liquid on the table, hoping she wouldn’t spot it. An idea formed in my mind, taking shape into a plan to get rid of her long enough to change back to my former self. I managed to mask my eagerness under a throaty croak. “Baby venom should be between the baboon’s blood and the basil.”

  The witch must have found the empty space between spices. She released a litany of curses that a proper gentleman such as myself would dare not repeat.

  “My step-mother says cursing will cause your tongue to rot,” the child said from behind the bars of the cage.

  Rotting tongues should have been the least of that child’s worries.

  Morwynne paced the length of the room. “How shall I complete the spell for my beauty potion without the secret ingredient? I have but this eve when the waxing of the moon is the strongest and the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. I haven’t enough time to collect baby venom.”

  If the magic of this eve was strong enough to make Morwynne young, it would also be strong enough to aid me in the spell I needed.

  I hopped across the floor, passing the stack of enchanted cauldrons and the boy in the cage. “You could do something unconventional and go out to buy some.” I leapt onto the rickety stool to the witch’s right, eying the spell book again. I was almost close enough to turn the page back. I knew the first two ingredients. Mayhap I could memorize the spell.

  “Leave the house? Looking like this?” Morwynne smoothed a hand over her wrinkled face and gazed down at her threadbare robes in disgust.

  “Come now, you look not a day over a hundred and fifty,” I said. With her cobweb-like hair, hunched-over posture and weathered skin, she could have passed for a hag half her age.

  “How old are you?” the child in the cage asked.

  Instead of answering, Morwynne looked to me. “Prince Charming, do you think baby venom is the kind of ware they sell at any village market place? And as midnight draws nigh no less?”

  “You could try that new twenty-four hour store, Witch-mart.”

  She pursed her puckered lips as if thinking it over and nodded. She shuffled over to her broom. “Let’s see, what am I forgetting? Do I have everything I need for a quick journey?” She patted the small pouch of coins at her belt.

  “Underwear? A corset? Your flying license?”

  “Mr. Fluffy,” She made a kissy noise to the shadows. “you’re in charge while I’m afar. It’s up to you to make sure Prince Charming stays away from the spell book and doesn’t do anything that might cause himself harm.”

  She shook the dust from her pointed black hat and straddled the broom. I covered my eyes, hoping she wouldn’t crash. She only knocked over a shelf of books this time as she took off through the open window. Still, the boy in the cage let out a startled cry.

  I hopped up onto the table to read the spell book. I would need to make haste in order to reverse my curse. The witch might only be gone for half an hour if she rushed. Her current spell called for the fat of a chubby child, a virgin’s blood, and a hair of a hare.

  I glanced at the child still licking his fingers. I would need assistance if I was to finish before she returned.

  The boy looked up. “What?”

  I was about to turn the page to the spell I most desired, when the hiss of Mr. Fluffy—a.k.a. Mr. Evil—cut through the air. I turned to stare up at the black cat perched on the stool. Just as he swiped a claw at me, I launched myself off the table. The stool fell to the ground with a clatter. I hid under the cover of the toppled books near the window the witch had left in her wake.

  Mr. Evil situated himself on the spell book at the table. He meowed in a most threatening manner.

  With one eye on my nemesis, I bounded across the room. Keeping to the most shadowy regions, I approached the cage.

  The chubby boy clad in lederhosen leapt back from the iron bars. “Ah! A toad! Stay away! I don’t want warts!”

  Fine, he wanted to believe I had warts. I would use that to my advantage. “Heed my words, boy. If you don’t, I’ll touch you and contaminate you with the worst case of warts the world has ever seen.”

  I edged farther into the cage, quite enjoying this power of fear I was able to instill as a frog. The child squirmed away, visibly shaking.

  I bestowed a regal bow. “I’m prepared to make you a deal. I’ll let you out of this cage on the condition you assist me in getting rid of the cat.” I eyed the crusts of sugar on the child’s cheeks from his previous meal. “And if I let you out, you can’t eat any more of the cottage.”

  The boy’s lips quivered and tears filled his eyes. “I promise. Please let me out.”

  I hopped out of the cage, keeping one eye on Mr. Evil as I bounced up and unbolted the lock. The child crawled out.

  “Now, pick up the cat, throw him out the window, and draw the shutters,” I said.

  Mr. Evil meowed a most ominous warning from where he rested on the book. His ey
es flashed gold in the firelight.

  “Oh, those apples look so delicious.” The child reached for a red apple in the basket on the table.

  “No!” A few ribbits escaped my mouth. “Those are not for you. Walk around the table where the cat is.”

  I tapped a green, webbed foot with impatience. Every moment of delay was time that could have been spent turning me to my former self. The boy licked his lips.

  “They have worms,” I said.

  The boy’s shoulders slumped. He lifted the cat from the book. The cat snuggled up against him and purred.

  “He’s so cute,” the boy said.

  I jumped from foot to foot in agitation. “The window. Go to the window.”

  Precious seconds ticked away as the boy inched toward the window and dropped Mr. Evil out into the night. As the boy ran his hand over the icing just outside the windowsill, I prompted him. “Now, close the shutters so he can’t get back in.”

  The child moved