Nathan Reed - Brewing Up

“Fiddlesticks. It’s not wobbling; it’s shimmering, just as I’d hoped. Nets aloft, please.”

Miss Strega flew on to the peak of the roof tiles and shuffled along it, holding her butterfly net in one outstretched arm. Jessica shuffled along behind her, wondering what on earth (or on moon) the nets were for.

When the planet Venus was lined up precisely at a right angle to the control twigs of their broomsticks, Miss Strega shouted, “Deploy your Moon-Vault twig, NOW.”

Immediately, Jessica’s plaits flew back over her shoulders and her scarf streamed out behind her back. It was like being on a rollercoaster with an invisible giant blowing into her face. Then she was off. She broke loose, shot up into the sky – and flew straight, bang, right into a cloud of sticky moondust.

“Hey!” she yelled at Miss Strega who was ducking and diving ahead of her, scooping up the dust in her net. “Hang on.”

“No, you keep up,” Miss Strega shouted back over her shoulder, “and catch as much of this dust as you can. I know it tickles but it’s very popular with fairies. They think they look cute sprinkling it around wherever they go – so dust away, Jess.”

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, cute about moondust, Jessica decided. It got everywhere, in her ears and her eyes and her socks and her hair and up her nose like summer midges in a Scottish bog. It wasn’t tickly, but it was itchy, very itchy. So Jess pulled her scarf up to her nose, closed her eyes and flailed about with her moondust net as best as she could.

When she opened her eyes again, she was already tumbling down the far side of the moon. The neon lights of an intergalactic highway lay ahead.

“The Milky Way!” she yelled, tossing her net of moondust to Miss Strega and zooming towards the Milky Way entrance.

As usual, there was a long tailback of fliers trying to get on to the Milky Way. There were turbaned viziers on flying carpets, dreamy angels on fluffy clouds and a set of flying saucers. Jessica cruised to a pause behind a white winged horse that was pawing the ground impatiently.

Miss Strega came up behind her. “There,” she said, flipping over the pages on her clipboard and putting a large tick beside Moondust. “One done, only 332 more to go. Now, what on earth is holding us up today? Not another Phoenix rising, I hope.”

“Look over there!” Jessica pointed towards the toll-bridge barrier where a large dragon with a very fat bottom had got stuck. Her scaly tail flicked nervously as she tried to reverse out, scattering scales everywhere.

Miss Strega tut-tutted. “Shame to see those going to waste, Jess. Perhaps you could zoom over and pick them up.”

Jessica twiddled with her broom twigs, took off at an unexpected angle – a sort of diagonal lift – twirled over the queue and swooped down behind the flustered dragon.

“Do you mind if I take some of your scales?” she asked, smiling her sweetest smile.

The dragon turned around, revealing a long mournful face and surprisingly bushy eyebrows. “You can have all the scales you want, Miss,” she sniffed, “and if you can Spell me out of here, I’ll tell you where you can get some Dragons’ Teeth for nothing as well. I know you witches like a good supply of those.”

“I’m only a witch-in-training,” said Jessica, stuffing as many of the dragon’s scales as she could into her saddlebag, “but I’ll see what I can do.” She took out her wand and waved it about. “This should work.

“With a wave of my wand, da-da .

A bang of my heels, bang-bang,

With a gnash of my teeth, clang-clang,

Three bats of my eyelids and a wink,

Your bottom will begin to shrink –

I think.”

The dragon’s bottom stopped thrashing around. Little by little, it began to shrink.

“Hey, steady on,” said the dragon with a loud snort. “I don’t want to be too bony. I’ve got to sleep on a lot of sharp metal objects. You don’t want to be too thin if you live in a cold cave on top of a hoard of gold, you know.”

“Right,” said Jessica, with a giggle. “That should be enough.”

With one final wriggle, the dragon was FREE. She flew off with her cheeks ablaze, snorting embarrassed plumes of smoke.

“Hang on,” shouted Jessica, “what about the Dragons’ Teeth?”

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