Family Dinner
The pot of soup bubbled like a sorcerer’s brew.
An elixir of pickled rats’ feet and the wings of horseflies,
Mixed with the tears of a young girl with a broken heart.
He had been preparing ingredients all day; chopping fish heads and mouse tails
Stirring in some powdered lizard’s tongue for good measure.
The steam from the brew rose in haunting spirals and filled the kitchen with intoxicating scents.
It held a magical power; his helpless spawn gathered around
With their mouths open like famished baby birds, not sure of what lured them in.
They sipped from the ladle, unaware of the potion’s enchantment.
When the time came and the pot got one last counter-clockwise stir,
The spawn were eager for their own helping.
They spooned it greedily, pausing only to dip their bread into the brew.
The sound of their consumption was the only language this cluster of offspring had shared.
He sat back and smiled, his arms folded over his chest.
A gesture of the triumph to come.
Soon their slurps became quiet, dainty even, as they spoke to him of wizard sports,
Kissing frogs, and the latest trends in pointed hats.
The spell had been cast; they had been tricked into telling him their secrets.
A cackle of joy escaped his lips.
