Beauty and the Magician (Tales of the Red Witch Book 1)

Chapter 7 - Another day, another copper

"Blast the seven bloody fires of the sun!" Annika cursed while pulling out a handkerchief to blot up the spot of blood welling up on her torn fingernail. She must have caught it on something inside the pot of dirt. She surveyed the work table covered in it's neat rows of small pots containing newly sprouted lily bulbs. When the blood had stopped, she washed her hands, wrapped up her finger and continued her repotting. The flowers would not repot themselves after all.

When she had finished with the last one, she looked upon her little army of greenery with all the pride of a king surveying his country. The plants before her in this small but well laid out greenhouse were not technically hers but she cared for them as if they were. She had inherited her mother's green thumb and thanked the stars that she was able to use it to pay rent.

Never one for being idle, she cleaned the dirt from her hands and stepped through the door connecting the greenhouse to the little flower shop conveniently located on Main Street in the little village of Wohnort. She got to work tidying up the shop as the sumptuous morning light illuminated the street outside. She inhaled deeply breathing the smell of the damp earth that would nourish her little friends.

She finished her tidying, and then removed her apron before unlocking the door and turning the sign to open.

Annika stood at the door, her hand lingering on the sign, staring out the glass, watching the villagers walk by in their morning routines. It was a familiar fabric with slight variations in the bland colorless pattern.

It was Wohnort, her home.

Her father and her sister Sofie talked often about adventure and leaving Wohnort. Maury Gerst had once been a successful merchant, buying and selling anything he could get his hands on, and had spent years traveling all over, something Sofie dreamed about upon hearing their father's romanticized stories. Annika would listen to the stories too, but she would just roll her eyes as her mother had done.

The only story she truly loved to hear over and over again, was the one he told about how he had met their mother. He had been traveling through Wohnort following a lead about some cheese a farmer was looking to unload cheaply when he stumbled into a pretty flower shop girl. He would claim that they fell instantly in love. Annika more believed her mother's version, where she claimed he followed her around like a puppy until she gave in. But she would tell her version with a sweet smile and a rose on her cheeks.

They had loved each other deeply.

Her father stayed in Wohnort to be with her and so that was where Annika and Sofie were born and raised.

Maury continued to travel for business but he would always return after a few weeks with profits, hugs, and presents for everybody.

Her mother always stayed behind. She had loved Wohnort and had never felt the pull to leave even on brief trips. Her mother had always been like tree, steady, unmovable and deeply rooted. Annika shared in her sentiment, but didn't quite understand her mother's connection to this place. She knew her mother felt grounded and safe here, Annika felt the same, but her mother also felt a connection to the people and that was something Annika lacked. It wasn't like she disliked the people of Wohnort, she just didn't understand them. Or maybe they just didn't understand her. In that way, she was more like her father. He had always been an outsider in Wohnort; a weed in the otherwise tidy flowerbed.

Her father had often set out without any particular plan or destination despite her mother's protests that she needed to know where he was going. Annika never understood how he could do such a thing. It seemed utter foolishness to go on a trip without knowing where you might end up and no one could ever accuse Annika of being a fool.