Madame Elsa’s Apothecary had been the best thing to ever happen for Arilez. From the day the orphaned girl set foot into the old witches shop, she was enamored with the world of herbology. Elsa took her in as simple help at first, as she was getting quite old and couldn’t pick up on the pots and watering cans like she used to. Arilez was surprised that Elsa even kept her around after the first few mishaps of knocking things over. It was easy work. Opening the shops large doors in the morning, watering the fresh herbs and flowers, weeding and moving around pots and trays.
It wasn’t until Arilez was sitting on the counter one day, repotting a small marigold plant that she saw the large green book atop Elsa’s bookcase. Arilez, scrawny in her sixteen year old youth, attempted to pull it off the shelf, but it simply came crashing down onto the stone floor. It opened up and that was it. Arilez was fixated.
She turned page after page, looking at the beautiful watercolor illustrations of plants, flowers, fruits, and weeds. Elsa caught her like this hours later, seeing that shed abandoned her task. The young girl shot up and apologized profusely, But the old woman simply smiled.
“Do you want to learn?”
That was it. With Elsa’s help, Arilez was a sponge soaking up every drop of knowledge she could get. She learned of lavender and its calming properties, of marigold and its ability to ward off pests, even dragonbugs and pixiemites. She learned which herbs are best for wound care, which flowers would help gut health, blends of herbs to make tinctures and teas good for losing weight or for getting a good nights rest.
But she had a favorite.
Elsa had it specially ordered for Arilez’s first anniversary at the apothecary. They planted the little seed and watched it grow day by day.. It was beautiful. Purple petals that curled at the edges, with long yellow pistils. They grew berries. Berries that could be used for treating several ailments if done properly. But it would also be quite the deadly poison. Arilez was obsessed; for its allure was as beautiful as it was dangerous.
Arilez had become the younger face of the apothecary; everyone seeing her hard at work bouncing around the shop and its garden while they purchased their medicines and teas from Miss Elsa.
Months later, however, her time with Elsa was cut short. The herbalist was taken by age during the night. It weighed down hard on Arilez. For a few days she didn’t open the shop. She didn’t know the extent of medicine that Elsa did. On top of that, she was grieving. Elsa had been the closest to a mother she had known.
In the wake of her death, whispers of suspicion began to circulate around the city. Fingers pointed at Arilez’s and her love for the poisonous flower. They rumored of her wanting the shop to herself, to inherit it in the absence of Elsa’s late children. This wasn’t true. Not at all. But with no one to vouch for her and with the prospect of prosecution, Arilez had no choice but to flee the city. She took the flower with her.
— — — — — —
Arilez was pulled from her memory by the wet noise of Darlene clearing her throat. The older woman stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her ample chest, her chin nearly brushing her forearms. The soft flicker of lantern light cast shadows across Darlene’s weathered face, highlighting the deep lines etched by years of hardship
“Don’t be gettin’ any funny ideas, Miss.” Darlene’s voice had an edge of warning as she came over and swiped the bag from Arilez. “I’ve only one. Savin’ it for the festival.” The woman says as she folds the bag up. Arilez had to fight the noise of protest from leaving her throat as she watched the dried flower petals crumble from the way she’d folded it under her arm. She clenched her fists, feeling a surge of frustration, but she knew better than to argue. Darlene’s authority was not to be challenged lightly. The older woman tucked the folded bag under her arm, completely oblivious or indifferent to the damage she’d done.
“Sorry i.. Nightshade is a personal Favorite of mine..” Arilez admitted dumbly. Darlene turned her back to Arilez, shoving the folded bag into her apron with little regard. Without a word, she reached overhead and opened a creaky cabinet.
“Is that what it’s called?” Darlene finally responded, her tone flat and indifferent. She pulled out a couple of tin containers from the cabinet and placed them on the counter with a dull thud.
“You dont know its Name?”
“I’m not a botanist. I’m a chef”
“I thought you were also a surgeon?”
“If by surgeon you mean I can sew a wound shut, perhaps..” Darlene grumbled, pulling a small footstool out and stepping atop of it to rummage through the high shelves.
ns216.73.216.133da2
and then Add to home screen.