Teryl's Tales of Whim~The flowers rustled without a breeze and the witch listened.
She nodded, unlatching her purse, and shaking out some of her bees, "Fly, my pretties, the posies need you."
She laid back, enjoying the sun as her familiars bumbled around, making sure the flowers' needs were fulfilled.
Then a crease appeared in the sky. The witch called, "Alright my pretties, back in the bag!"
She hopped on her motorcycle, chasing more of the extra day.
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