Gigi, The Incompetent Witch

Chapter 1: Stolen Puffs and Aunt Inigfrol

Gigi puffed at a curl of auburn hair and repositioned her hold on the fat, ornate carpet tucked underneath her arm. The air around her was thick with Dorda's rain, the little droplets darting in and out from each other. Every now and then a few would gang together and mimic simple objects nearby, only to be dashed aside by a large glob of water which greedily sucked up any straying drips

Perpentine was slung across her shoulder, the bottomless bag already filled to the brim. His dangling arms, with his tasseled fingers, rudely slapped any sly drops that attempted to wet the contents inside. Every accidental jostle or unnecessary trip gave Gigi a small taste of his frustration.

Gigi hiked the carpet further up, trying to get a decent hold on the slick underside. Her other hand holding onto a wide brimmed, wicker basket. A traveler's cloak lay atop the precious herbs that Gigi spent her week's wages on. And she silently prayed to Peppa, Constellation of Underserved Luck and Fortune, that the mischievous dollops never caught on to her pounding heart, each time they hovered around the cloak.

Another undeserving slap stung her cheek and Perpentine's tassel flew back down to his tiresome work. Gigi quietly ground her teeth, keeping in mind that a flair of agitation would lock down her whole collection of ill-behaved cleaning products. And they would go on a week's strike, acting like the petulant children that they were.

The young witch cried out, the noise erupting from her lips closely relating to teeth against iron. She stumbled forward, the carpet slipping out of her grasp and landing on a particularly large glob of water that hovered above the ground. Her hat cinched tight on her head, twisting itself into a small misshapen ball, all its soaked up water trickling down her neck.

"Cornelius!" Gigi yelled, an involuntary shiver crawling down her back, "You slinking little worm!"

The path rippled with laughter, the rocks hopping up and down in a chorus of cheerful cackles.

"Socrates! Stop your flapping! You are not going to fall off," she continued. Setting down her basket, she twisted her hat sharply, forcing it to loosen his death grip. "You big coward, you're just fine."

The hat shrunk in embarrassment, crinkling into itself till it looked like a wet towel.

"Cornelius," she snapped, checking her basket for any ruined herbs, "you think you're funny don't you?"

The path vibrated beneath her, letting out a soft hum of amusement.

"Well, let me tell you something," she said, squatting down so only he can hear, "you do something like that to me again, and I will make certain to place the Never-ending Curse upon you."

Cornelius' hum abruptly stopped.

"Just imagine it, Cornelius, never having an ending, never leading your traveler to a destination. You will just go on and on, never having a purpose," she whispered, inspecting her nails.

She heard an audible gulp come from the depths of the path.

"Now, are you going to do that again?" she said, as a teacher would ask a child.

The path tremored out a no.

"And are you going to give me the straightest path home?"

In reply, Cornelius unwound itself into a straight cut through the forest.

"I am happy we reached an understanding then," she said cheerily.

Picking up her basket and carpet, she started off again, knowing that the road would soon forget and she would have to threaten it again. And considerably thankful that Cornelius was particularly dull in the matter of curses.