Amy's tale unashamedly required to be told in two parts, both 100 words long.
Part I
At Diagon Alley’s newest shop, the door flew open before Emma’s tentative knock.
“Welcome to Eye of Newt,” a tiny creature peeped, fluttering gossamer wings. “I’m Tink. Melpyew?”
“I’m trying to find some bat wool,” Emma ventured, marveling at the little creature.
“Bat wool?” Tink squeaked. “Don’t bother with that stuff. Simply horrid for knitting. Itchy and scratchy.”
“No, not for knitting –” Emma began.
“Awful for stuffing pillows, too,” Tink interrupted. “Never quite lays right – always bunches up.”
“Doesn’t sound like it’s a popular item,” Emma said.
“Oh dearie no – usually some sorcerer wants it for a stinky brew.”
Part II
“I’m also looking for langues du chien,” Emma said.
“You’re going to have to visit that new bake shop across from Butterbeer’s Café,” Tink said, buzzing in little circles. “Lovely biscuits.”
“I thought … oh never mind,” said Emma. “Perhaps you have some frog’s toes?”
“Butterbeer’s serves lovely frog’s legs,” said Tink. “White wine reduction, shallots and truffles … mmmmm.” Bits of fairy dust spat from her wand, and she scowled.
“Drat – this just came back from Ollivander’s. That new repair goblin’s no good.”
By then, Emma was completely enthralled, her current temporal tangle the last thing on her mind.
Part I
At Diagon Alley’s newest shop, the door flew open before Emma’s tentative knock.
“Welcome to Eye of Newt,” a tiny creature peeped, fluttering gossamer wings. “I’m Tink. Melpyew?”
“I’m trying to find some bat wool,” Emma ventured, marveling at the little creature.
“Bat wool?” Tink squeaked. “Don’t bother with that stuff. Simply horrid for knitting. Itchy and scratchy.”
“No, not for knitting –” Emma began.
“Awful for stuffing pillows, too,” Tink interrupted. “Never quite lays right – always bunches up.”
“Doesn’t sound like it’s a popular item,” Emma said.
“Oh dearie no – usually some sorcerer wants it for a stinky brew.”
Part II
“I’m also looking for langues du chien,” Emma said.
“You’re going to have to visit that new bake shop across from Butterbeer’s Café,” Tink said, buzzing in little circles. “Lovely biscuits.”
“I thought … oh never mind,” said Emma. “Perhaps you have some frog’s toes?”
“Butterbeer’s serves lovely frog’s legs,” said Tink. “White wine reduction, shallots and truffles … mmmmm.” Bits of fairy dust spat from her wand, and she scowled.
“Drat – this just came back from Ollivander’s. That new repair goblin’s no good.”
By then, Emma was completely enthralled, her current temporal tangle the last thing on her mind.
