The Quest of Nine Days

“It is me, or does it look like it’s breathing?”

Raj placed a hand on his pointed cap to keep it from falling off as he looked up the trunk of the most immense tree he had ever seen in his life. It would probably take fifty kids to stand around it and hold hands to surround the trunk. He gulped. Meg was right. It did look like it was breathing. Maybe it was just because of how big it was. Looking up at it was dizzying. That might have been what was making the tree look like it was breathing. At least, Raj hoped so.

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The Shallot Pot

I found it at a garage sale. Someone was getting rid of their family heirlooms. Not jewels or ancient scrolls or photo albums from bygone eras. Just cookware and cutlery, end tables, mismatched dining sets, and the like. I was supposed to be looking for something specific and practical. A desk. But something else caught my eye. It looked exactly as I would imagine a witch’s pot would look like. Coal-black cast iron. Bulging, maybe three or four quarts big, with three stubby feet and a handle. I paid five dollars for it.

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