Ava and I have started doing calls together where we do some work together. We’ve done a few things, like discuss new ideas, talk plotting, and, most recently, we agreed to do a quick flash fiction exercise. We decided we would agree on a prompt and each write roughly 1,000 words (I imagine we both went a bit over), and we would share our pieces with you all. So now, here today, is my piece. Not even Ava has read it yet, and I will have to wait for Wednesday to read hers. I hope you all enjoy my response to the prompt (courtesy of Eva Deverell at Lady Writer): “The floor tasted like…”
The floor tasted like stale promises and broken dreams. And like dirt. And a little bit like blood.
Zachary coughed and pushed himself up. Note to self: wear a helmet next time. He wiped at his mouth and it came away red. He’d bitten his tongue in the blast.
The young wizard got to his feet and dusted off his robes. He grimaced as his eyes fell upon the smoldering pile where his alchemy set had been mere moments ago. You know. Before it had exploded.
He groaned. “Seraphina’s gonna kill me.” His words were muffled and stuffy from the rapid expansion of his bitten tongue. He prodded it for a moment. Not awful, but it’d smart for a while. At least he hadn’t bitten it off.
After making sure there was no risk of fire, and resigning himself to a good scolding, he went up the steps to leave the underground lab that resided in the unfinished half-basement of the small home his master owned. It was a nice enough place, perfectly suited to a full wizard and her apprentice. He had his own room and bathroom, and the spacious bottom floor meant there was plenty of room for experiments and storing magical ingredients. He knew he could have it much worse. His sister had done her apprenticeship in a cave.
The worst part of his training was his master. He hadn’t gotten much out of her yet, just directions to follow her potion notes and not much else. Certainly not the excitement he had hoped for. As he approached the sitting-room-turned-library, he felt the pit forming in his stomach. She was not going to be pleased that he’s wrecked another alchemy set. He might be demoted back to magical chores, which, despite being magical, were still chores.
“Are you done blowing my home up?” Seraphina’s voice greeted him, before he had even set foot in the room. She sat in her plush chair, clad in grand purple robes embroidered with delicate gold trim that thrummed with magic, denoting her rank as a Grand Wizard. She hadn’t even looked in his direction, her focus still primarily on the book held before her.
“Yes, master. I, it, uh…” Zachary sighed. “Another experiment failed.”
Seraphina clucked her tongue, her book floating casually from her hand and landing on the end table beside her. She looked at him and took in his appearance, which he knew from her expression must be rough. He hadn’t bothered to clean himself. “Well, I suppose you can still learn something from your mistake. Tell me what went wrong.”
Normally, Zachary would make some half-baked excuse about how something beyond his reach had gone awry. The crystal he had powdered must have lost its charge, or the house spirit had swapped his herbs as a prank. But this time, no excuse came to mind.
He sighed again. “I don’t know, master. No matter what I do, things seem to go wrong. In the last few weeks, none of the potions I’ve tried to replicate have worked. I swear I’m following your recipes exactly, but nothing has happened!”
Seraphina raised an eyebrow.
“Well, nothing intended. Just brown sludge and explosions. No real magic.”
Zachary looked down, trying to blink back tears. He wouldn’t cry in front of his master. He was 17, almost an adult, and had worked hard to appear like a proper apprentice. But he hadn’t had any success in weeks. “Maybe I’m not cut out to be a wizard. I should go back to school and learn accounting or something.”
Seraphina’s hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. He looked up in surprise at the gentle gesture. He hadn’t even realized she had gotten up. “My dear Zachary, you’ve passed my test.”
He blinked up at her. “Your… huh?”
“My test,” she said, beginning to walk, pulling him along gently toward the staircase. “You’re not my first apprentice. Many come to me confident and with a certain… swagger, is it? They think themselves on top of the world all because they can light a candle or make a gust of wind. So I decided years ago to do something different.”
His master looked back at him, a mischievous light in her eyes. “I let them start by failing.
“The notes I gave you are accurate. The missing link is your power and focus. You’ve shown good dedication, and that you’re able to fail. Failing, I’ve learned, is one of the hardest skills to teach. And it is one you must get accustomed to if you are to be a Grand Wizard one day.”
Zachary was dumbfounded as he was led into the lab. His master brought him not to the remains of the broken alchemy set, but instead to a pair of cushions on the floor in the corner, both within a circular chalk ring.
“So… I’m not a failure?” He asked tentatively as he took a seat on the closest cushion.
“On the contrary. You are a failure. But now you’re going to be a success.” Seraphina sat on the other cushion. “I did not become a Grand Wizard overnight. It has taken me decades to learn my spells, commune with magical creatures, master the elements. Before I was a master, I too was a failure. We all come from nothing. And that is the moral of your very first lesson. Now, give me your hands.”
He placed his hands atop hers, both with palms up. The chalk circle around them began to glow as she channeled power, the air around them seeming to vibrate with energy.
“Feel the power I summon, Zachary. It soon will be yours. This is the next, and most important, step for you to take.”
With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and did his best to follow along. He focused on what he felt. His swollen tongue. The light taste of copper still in his mouth. The tantalizing energy just before him. He so badly wanted it, after all this time of reaching, and the allure of it so damn close made the tears finally fall. He needed this. Needed to be something. Needed to succeed.
His master removed her hands from his, and the magic started to go out. No! He thought, gritting his teeth and willing it to stay, to be his, to make him something.
It remained. He opened his eyes. The circle was still alight with power, and although it flickered slightly, it was stable. And real. And all his doing.
“Well done, my apprentice. Now the real work can begin.”
I hope you all enjoyed! I realize now that for many of you, this is the first work of mine that I’ve actually shared. I promise to remedy that very soon! I have some ideas for work that I want to get out into the world.
This piece was heavily inspired by The Dresden Files, you may see that if you are familiar with the works of Jim Butcher. I tried to make it distinct, but the image of a modern day wizard in a drabby Chicago sub-apartment is firmly in my head. Who knows, maybe I’ll write more in the world of Zachary and Seraphina and escape Mr. Dresden’s. But for now, I’ll leave them to their lessons and the strength they have both learned through failure.
Be sure to check in on Wednesday for Ava’s response to the same prompt, or check it out here if you’re reading this after the fact!
Thanks as always, my dear readers.
This content was written and created by a human, without the use of any artificial intelligence tools. The authors do not authorize this article’s usage in training AI tools. We proudly support the original works of creators and individuals over technology that steals and manipulates original content without consent of creators.
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