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devil duck

dream journal

"Be careful, dear!" said Mrs. Finch as Arabella drew her wand. Mrs. Finch knew it was only a four-foot drop, not really dangerous even without magic, but this was Arabella.

Arabella had always been a powerful magician, but always a bit... off. The day Mrs. Finch had brought her home from the hospital, twelve years before, the baby had gone peacefully to sleep and Mrs. Finch had stepped exhaustedly into the kitchen for a snack. "What I wouldn't give for some chocolate cake," she thought, then stopped as she saw a three-layer chocolate cake on the kitchen table. "How sweet of Edgar," she thought. "He guessed what I would be in the mood for when I got home. How sweet... and how impractical, as we still need a real dinner tonight." But she did need a hit of cake, so she poured a cup of milk, put a slice of cake onto a dessert plate, took a bite, and spewed cake crumbs all over the kitchen. It tasted of beef, stewed for hours in a rich gravy.

Edgar was as surprised as she, and it only took a few such episodes for them to conclude that the culprit was the sweet-faced baby in the next room.
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Comments

This ficlet is interesting. Any more in the works?
I found it interesting too, and I very much want to read the rest of the story. Unfortunately, that's all my dreaming mind gave me; any more would take actual conscious work.
Ah, but it's the start of a great story. Keep dreaming!