Potions had a bit of a reputation for being slow and tedious to brew, so only the most devoted of witches would even consider dabbling in it.
This witch, however, never even thought about any other type of magic; no, potions were all that mattered to her. She despised all those showy bangs and flashes that passed for spells. Hers was a subtle and efficient kind of magic, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
In this day and age, her passion became more difficult to practice. Rare plants and other magical substances disappeared or became polluted, rendering the potions brewed utterly useless.
And whatever healing potion she brewed, nothing could stop the sickness from spreading.
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Tiny Stories Part 2
NouvellesMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
