Fillet Of A Finny Snake In the Cauldron Boil And Bake

by Mike Mayak

The kitchen was bright and pleasant with the afternoon sun streaming through the skylight. The red, yellow and turquoise of the cups and plates, neatly stacked, gave the room the feel of the Southwest.

Tiresias muttered to himself as he looked in one of the cabinets, staring at the handwritten labels taped to the jars.

“What today…What today? Which one do I need this time…aha!”

He grabbed a small jar with a red lid marked “Mixed Syrian Spices” and set it on the counter next to the stove.

“It would be easier if it was the same formula each time,” Tiresias said to nobody in particular. “I mean, fillet of finny snake, dead man’s hair, drop of tincture of tenderness. And then pop it in the microwave.” He sighed. “But that would be too easy.”

He looked in the cabinet again; at the yellow checkerboard pattern of the shelves, at the hanging cups, at the bottles and jars. Only some of which contained ingredients found at a store, he smiled wryly to himself. There was a capsule of flea repellent he needed to use on his cat, and a little jar of sprinkles.

He checked the ingredients on the counter. All good.

He turned the heat up on the pot of water on the stove, and began measuring and pouring the ingredients into the pot. A cup of this, a pinch of that, a teaspoon of this, most of that. All the while stirring gently, gently…

The smells were overpowering; spices, freshly-turned earth, flowers, wind from the sea and ancient tombs.

Tiresias turned the heat down to simmer and waited…waited…

The liquid in the pot changed color. Green, brown, orange, blood-red and then a luminous blue.

The skylight went dark for a moment, plunging the kitchen into shadow.

In another moment, the kitchen was sunlit-bright again and Tiresias was now a woman.

Much the same face, hair longer, same weight and height but definitely a woman.

Tiresias looked into the pot which was now empty.

“How long this time?” she asked.

“Three weeks,” said the hollow voice.

Tiresias smiled to herself. This year she could wear her witch’s costume to greet the trick-or-treaters.

—end—