November Time Trial

To be honest, I wasn’t confident this challenge would work. After all, it takes a brave soul to share their unedited drafts. For a while, it looked as if it had indeed bombed. But slowly, three people came forward. Two appeared a couple of hours after the initial post, and one 24 hours later. So here they are, in all their unedited glory. Our three intrepid writers now have a week to edit and refine their work, if they want to. They will be added to the originals next week.

The prompt Double, Double, Toil and Trouble, invited you to use the witches recipe from Macbeth as a starting point for an outcome in today’s world. What would happen if you took the time and trouble to build a fire so your own cauldron could bubble?

The first is from Paul Snow, a regular at Chesil Bank Writing Shed. It arrived at 12.15 pm (GMT).

Fenny Snake

It’s difficult working in a strange kitchen and Isadora felt a long way out of her comfort zone. So much Le Creuset and fancy utensils she could never afford to buy and had no use for. A no nonsense pot, a sharp knife and a decent sized ladle was all she needed, but this was very different.
Living a simple life, she was used to working by candlelight and the clinical surroundings and the glare of a multitude of electric lamps dazzled her. Turning on the oven, she checked her board, mentally ticking off each of her ingredients. All present and correct she thought, at least I haven’t forgotten anything.
Starting she found the largest pot in the cupboards below her stove and several smaller pans. She was a one pot cook at heart but felt that more was expected of her today. A simple stew wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the three Lords and the two critical overseers that she was cooking for, they were exacting masters and she dare not disappoint.
Isadora was worried about the limited time she had to produce her meal. Normally everything would go into her cauldron and take as long or as little as it took. Her sun dial wouldn’t work in this barn so she hoped the stern overseers would tell her how long she had left as they went along. She would usually be cooking for three, and her sisters were hardly demanding diners, so cooking for five important people, who had the finest chefs at their beck and call, was daunting.
Once she started cooking things began to fall into place. The main dish was coming together and several little pans were bubbling away on their strange rings. Tasting each in turn she was pleased with the results and hoped that they would work together, pleasing the waiting Lords and her intrusive overseers. Time flew and she heard the sonorous warning,
‘Two minute left.’
Isadora felt a moment of panic, the Lords would be at their table, drinking wine, carousing and talking about the meal to come, a meal of her choosing, food that had to please them or the consequences would be severe.
Taking the strange white trenchers from the rack, she carefully arranged a meal on each, and finishing just in time to breathe, she heard the order to stop.
She stood, transfixed for a moment, staring at the door leading to the Lords’ chamber, her gnarled hands shaking. Picking up two steaming trenchers she walked slowly towards her destiny.
The door swung closed behind her, and she bowed to the two seated Lords and a Lady.
‘Good day, your Honours.’ She began. ‘Today I have made for you a baked fillet of Fenny snake and a confit of dogs tongue served with a deep-fried lizards leg, an adder and worm emulsion, newt eye gel and a toe of frog consommé. Enjoy.’
Turning, she left the Royal chamber, glad that she hadn’t plated up the wool of bat, sometimes less is more she thought.
Back in the kitchen, the overseers lingered over her plate of food. Monica raised an eyebrow taking the spoon from her lips.
‘What do you make of that?’ She asked her colleague.
A smile of satisfaction spread across Marcus Wareing’s face.
‘That’s magic.’ He said. ‘Absolute magic.’

The second is from Granny Annie and arrived at 2.46pm (GMT)

A letter to my new grandchild.

Toil and trouble, toil and trouble, toil and trouble – this is just life, my poppet. So I don’t wish you spells, I wish you luck.
There’s no point in trying to avoid either. Hard work does not guarantee success, but everything you do that is worthwhile will involve effort and sometimes more effort can mean better results.
I’m sorry to have to tell you that trouble is also inevitable. We all get into it but the secret is being able to find a way out of it. This usually means using ingenuity and also you have to be lucky.
You are already a lucky baby, with all the necessary moving parts and two loving parents. You’ll be a lucky child because I’ll make sure of it and when you are an adult, you will have learnt how to make your own luck.
With much love and luck,
from
GrannyAnnie

The final contribution arrived from Lesley Mason. It arrived on Tuesday at 13.20 pm.