I wrote this very quickly for my creative writing assignment, so I'm not sure what it is, exactly. I haven't decided if it's a standalone snapshot story or an introduction to a larger one, but any feedback would be appreciated!
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“Mum, you’re grieving. That’s all it is.”
“Utter bloody nonsense. I’m as clear as a bloody wine glass. You just won’t listen to me.”
Josie Kettleman took a deep breath and set her mug down on the worktop, wedging it in between some dubious flasks and a bag of mouldy orange peel. It was the second time this week that she’d had this conversation with her mother.
“Fit as a fiddle,” her mother was saying. “He was fit as a fiddle the night before. Even suggested we got some tulips in for the earache potion. Hardly on the verge of death, was he?”
“Mum, I’m telling you-”
“No, Josephine, I’m telling you. Someone murdered my bloody budgie.”
Eleanor Kettleman thought that, by using her daughter’s full name, she assumed a stern and superior air. Josie Kettleman, eyeing the dab of coal dust on her mother’s nose, made a mental note to ask the neighbours to look in on her more often.
“Trevor was old, Mum,” Josie said, taking a sip of her tea. “We all outlive our familiars. It’s a wonder he lived as long as he did.”
Eleanor sniffed. “And he’d have gone on living longer still, wouldn’t he? If he hadn’t been murdered.”
“By who, Mum? Why would anybody kill him?”
Eleanor gestured to the ingredients heaped on the worktop. “Big pharmas don’t want to compete with a witch like me, so they kill my familiar. Bring my business to a halt.”
Josie sighed. “You run a potions shop in Dewsbury, Mum. With or without a familiar, you’re not much competition for them.”
Eleanor folded her arms. “They’re nipping me in the bud early. That’s what they do.”
Josie leaned back on her stool, which groaned piteously, just as it always had. Some of her earliest memories were of this kitchen – she remembered kneeling on the very same stool, maybe at four or five years old, as her mother taught her how to heat milk and grind sunflower seeds for a simple fever salve. Eleanor’s young voice had been fluttery, but perhaps a little softer.
“You can borrow Darcy,” Josie said. “I’ve made potions with her before. She’d know what to do.”
Darcy had always preferred to lounge on the counter and wash her whiskers rather than concentrate on spells, but that was an issue of won’t rather than can’t.
“I’m not using someone else’s familiar,” Eleanor snapped. “Whatever next? Sharing toothbrushes?”
Josie put her hands flat on the table, just as she always did when she was losing patience. “Well, we’ll go down to the animal shelter this weekend. See if we can find a new familiar for you – another budgie, maybe?”
“No,” Eleanor said.
“Suit yourself.” Josie climbed down off the stool, buttoning her jacket. “But we’ll find something. Get you back on track with your potions.”
“If the pharmas will let me,” Eleanor muttered. “I’m telling you, Josie. They did something to my Trevor.”
Josie hesitated, hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you later, Mum.”
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125,024 Literary Works • 672,762 Reviews
Hi there!
This is most definitely not a stand alone. I hope you have plans to continue this because it needs more. At least for me. There's too much going on in this, too many questions left unanswered when we're done reading. And they're not the good unanswered questions either. First off, the characters. We don't know much about them. All I know from this story is that Josie and her mom make potions, Eleanor is paranoid someone killed Trevor, and Josie is convinced no one murdered her familiar. There needs to be a lot more substance if this is to be a stand alone piece. Not to mention, this piece is basically all dialogue. There's a bit in the middle where Josie recalls memories, but that's it. Nothing gives us any real substance that I'd look for in a short story. All we get is a conversation in a kitchen.
I get that you're not sure what this is so I wanted to help you out. Shelve this and think about where it could fit in a longer piece.
Now this may just be me, but I had to look up what a budgie was. I wasn't familiar with the term and there were no clues in the story to help me figure it out. I'd suggest adding something in there to either hint at what a budgie is or juts come right out and say it. Since this bird is native to Australia (at least that's the information I found, correct me if I'm wrong), I'd suggest hinting to the fact it's a bird. Talk about it's feathers or how it liked to fly around the room or something along those lines. We'd get the idea that it's a bird while you still keep the knowledge of the animal with the characters.
There's a ton of background to this story that you haven't even tapped into yet. Even if you make this a longer short story or a series of shorts it'll work well. Just something longer than this. When I reached the end I didn't get that satisfied feeling of reading a short.
Overall you have a good beginning here. Your characters are solid and I'm quite fond of their relationship. It's almost comical how they go back and forth with each other over something that's a bigger deal to one than the other. Your dialogue is pretty realistic and flows well. There isn't much I can tell you to improve upon as your writing goes.
Keep writing!
**Noelle**
Thanks for the review! I didn't think to clarify what a budgie was because, in my experience, they're pretty common pets. Maybe it's just in my country. But yes, I can see there's a lot to expand on in this - I never saw it as a proper short story anyway, more as a snapshot. I'll see whether I have the motivation to continue it.
Skimming through the green room for works to review, yours caught my eye just because of the uniqueness of the title and the strangeness of the genre -- fantasy and realistic are so contradictory, that it manages to grab my eye right away. But I digress...
Oh man, what a good story. Right away we're able to learn so much about both these pointed and edged characters, the mother's motherly paranoia and Josie's sensibility combined. I've been in her position from another of angles before, and I'm sure everyone has which makes her incredibly easy to sympathize for, even for a witch. Speaking of which (no pun intended), the way you broke the stereotype of what a which is adds a lot to this piece of writing.
The dynamic between the characters is amazing, the threads of Eleanor's potion shop competing with big pharma and Trevor's death are all intriguing to me. Josie seems to be writing off her mother as insensible, but I can't help but wonder if there's a chance she might be right. Josie seemed to think for a slight second she may be right, just with that slight hesitation at the end before she leaves the room. I love it.
Interesting plot, great characters, and great dialogue. This was entertaining all around with no real weak points. I really hope you decide to keep going, because it's not nearly conclusive enough to work as a standalone short story.
Thank you! I'll maybe consider continuing it, though I'm quite busy with other things at the moment. But thank you for your lovely comments!
Hello! Thomas here
)
I really liked the intro, dropped me/the readers right into the action/argument. The dialogue between all of your characters too was great, very believable.
I actually found the story quite funny (in a good way), just the dialogue between Josie and her Mother, very well written.
Since this was rather short there isn't really much else to say apart from well done.
I would certainly like to read more and I hope you continue on writing this story (I feel it is the beginning of something epic, hope you do too
Hope you have a great night/day!
~Thomas~