Saturday's Storyteller: "That was the first time she had sold her homemade witch's brew, but she had never expected the customer's reaction to it."
by Belinda Roddie That was the first time she had sold her homemade witch's brew, but she had never expected the customer's reaction to it. Granted, it had been a much more positive reaction than she thought it would be: After all, the potion itself required a level head and a good heart. In this situation, however, it was as if Alizon had made the best recreational drug since marijuana had been legalized. It was addictive. The customer himself - Bartholomew Graff the Third - was the son of a warlock who had dabbled in similar alchemy that Alizon now revolutionized as a retail opportunity. But his father had certainly not been able to create such an enticing elixir. "Thirty bottles," he demanded through crystal ball the next day. "I'm holding a gala at the Wicked Fortress this Saturday. Your brew's going to be the staple beverage." "A-are you sure?" stammered Alizon. She felt her palms go clammy. "Th-thirty bottles only...