This post is part of Writer’s Digest February Flash Fiction Challenge. Flash Fiction is a short, often under 1,000 words, style of writing. I hope you enjoy my 28 contributions!
Day 23 Prompt: Write a Story About a Word
“Landara, Bimbara…Floo!”
The cauldron burped, sending a small cloud of smoke up into the air. A couple girls in the front row giggled as Lucinda cleared her throat and repositioned her hands above the bubbling concoction.
“Landara, Bimbara…Ploo!”
This time, the cauldron wheezed and produced a series of popping noises closely resembling the sound of flatulence. Lucinda’s face turned beet red as her eyes quickly scanned the faces of her classmates laughing in her direction. She regretfully glanced over at Professor Lilybutton momentarily, who was clutching her clipboard tightly to her chest, eyebrows raised, and jaw clenched in frightful seriousness. Lucinda gulped and again raised her hands above the cauldron.
“Landara, Bimbara…Bloo!”
Nothing. Not even the slightest ripple in the murky liquid. She felt a dulling sense of failure creep up her back, warming her uncomfortably.
“Ms. Bloom, does there seem to be a problem?”
“No… no. Um, sorry, Professor Lilybutton… I,” Lucinda cleared her throat again, “I got it. I can do it…”
“Carry on then. This will be your last attempt.” Professor Lilybutton rearranged the clipboard in front of herself, the pen hovering above the paper expectantly.
Lucinda rubbed her hands on her cloak, wiping away the accumulating sweat from her palms. For the last time, she held her hands over the cauldron, closed her eyes, and took a deep, shaky, breath.
“Landara… Bimbara… Cloo!”
Almost immediately, the liquid bubble with such ferocity that Lucinda jumped backwards with surprise. Everyone in the room watched as a pillar of glittery smoke swirled upward reaching towards the ceiling. As the column grew, it broke apart into a series of translucent extremities, like the branches of a palm tree, spinning in a brilliant array of colors.
Lucinda stared up at her creation, a wide smile forming on her face. The other students gawked at the creation, pointing in awe.
As the figment began to disintegrate into a fine, colorful dust, the classroom broke out into cheers and applause. Professor Lilybutton turned to the room raising her arms in an attempt to bring the students back under control.
Once the celebrations died down, she turned to Lucinda and with a sly smile, said, “Very good, Ms. Bloom. A+.”
