VALENTINES WEEK 2025
Runner-up
BY MELANIE MULROONEY
Copyright is held by the author.
EMILY FAIRWEATHER sat in her favourite green armchair sipping a cup of chamomile tea, the sweet aroma of the dainty white flowers uplifting her spirit. It had been some time since a wanderer had appeared seeking her wisdom and wares. She felt the discontent of solitude lurking.
But Emily was a third-degree witch of The Order of Panacea and her desires had power, so she resolved to rectify the situation by wishing for a visitor. The bell above her front door tinkled mere moments after the idea had been sent out to the Universe.
Most of Emily’s visitors were women filled with secret hopes or yearning for answers to troubling questions. Often they sought a cure for a broken heart or a potion to find true love. Sometimes they found their way back to the cottage, begging to undo earlier wishes.
This visitor was unlike any before. He filled the doorway with a barrel chest and legs as big as tree trunks, and his bald head was so shiny she thought it might be used for scrying. A large scar ran the length of his left cheek.
Emily thought him magnificent.
She settled her face into a practised, kind smile — the one she used for very shy children, older folk who had lost their way, and skittish animals. “Welcome to my tea shop, friend. How may I help you?”
“No idea.” His voice was deep, raspy. “I was left a missive; it landed me on your doorstep.” He produced a brick from his large black bag and placed it carefully in the middle of her small wooden table. At first glance, it looked no different than any other brick, but Emily saw her name carved into the stone and knew instantly it was a piece from her hearth.
“Ah! You’re from the Order.”
“Clearly.” His expression was unreadable.
Emily smiled wider. “A fellow witch. How exciting.” She ran her finger along the brick and picked up the gold travel dust barely visible on its surface. “Is your mode of transport pieces of a place?”
“Evidently.”
“So. Your magic stole my brick.”
“Stolen? No. I —” He caught Emily’s gaze and quickly looked away. A small twitch appeared above his left eye. “Apparently, yes.”
“And it brought you here.”
“We’ve established that, yes.” He shuffled from foot to foot. “We seem to be stating the obvious.”
Emily snorted laughter. “Well, useless chatter is my very favourite way to waste time.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up, emphasising his very large forehead. “Are you . . . serious?” He sounded appalled at the notion.
Emily chuckled again. “No, not at all. I was merely being a smart aleck.” She waved a hand as if to clear the air. “Perhaps we can start with your name?”
“Yes. Right.” He rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. “My name is Aleck.”
Emily clapped her hands in delight. “Of course it is!” The Universe certainly had a sense of humour.
She invited him to take a seat. “I’ll make us a pot of tea, shall I?”
The plants volunteered themselves for a blend intended to serve the situation at hand: hawthorn for heart opening, rose for beauty, wood betony to warm the emotions, tulsi to quiet the mind, and a dash of pepper for courage. Emily added a final splash of essence of agrimony to the teapot to ease communication and headed to the table.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the pine and fir trees just outside her window and chased shadows across Aleck’s face. Emily stood by the table, tray in hand, and watched the light dance over his skin. He was the most splendid man she’d ever seen, with dark brown eyes that might hold the secrets of the Universe. He looked up at her and she felt the pull deep in —
Emily spun on one heel, putting her back to Aleck. Good goddess, woman. Collect yourself. Had her jaw been hanging open? Was that a thing that actually happened? Settling into what she hoped was a neutral expression, she turned back to place the tray on the table. She poured tea into two delicate blue cups and offered one to her guest.
Aleck cleared his throat, meeting her eyes for the briefest moment. It seemed as if he might say something. Instead, he picked up the cup — which looked like a child’s toy in his large hand — and took a sip of the brew. His eyes fluttered closed and he released a deep sigh.
At last, he spoke. “So, you really don’t know why the Order sent me?”
Emily took a sip of her own tea. “I can’t say that I do.”
“Interesting.”
“Very,” she agreed.
“Well.” He cleared his throat and replaced his cup in its saucer. “While you were in the kitchen, I created a list of potential reasons.” He picked up a sheaf of papers and tapped them on the table.
“A list.”
“Yes. A list.” He looked around the room. “Is your cottage in need of repairs?”
“No, all good on that front.”
“Hmm.” He roamed his gaze about the room, resting a moment on the kitchen door which didn’t quite close properly, the peeling yellow paint in the corner by the book shelf. Quirking an eyebrow, he moved on without further comment.
“Are you experiencing issues with fairies, sprites, or brownies?”
“Never. They’re always on their best behaviour when they come to visit.”
“Right.” The corner of his lip lifted a barely perceptible amount. “Do you have a burning desire to learn about the ancient history of The Order of Zeus, the impact of Marcellus Averica teaching quantum physics to humans, or the giant Pacific octopus?” Aleck looked at her expectantly.
“I . . . what? No. I mean . . . I didn’t have an interest before. But I’m certainly curious about that octopus creature, now that you mention it.”
A transformative smile lit up Aleck’s face. “Oh. Very good. It’s one of my areas of expertise. They are — wait, if there was no previous interest, that’s probably not why I was sent here.”
“Probably not,” Emily agreed.
“Right.” He looked back to his list. “I suppose we should finish this first, and discuss the octopods later.”
“As you wish.” Emily propped her chin on her hand. Handsome and clever. She was enthralled, and would happily listen to him talk about anything.
“Do you need help in the kitchen? I enjoy cooking.”
“I do love to eat,” she said. “But no, I don’t think that’s it.”
“OK. Well.” A blush climbed up his neck. ”Is it possible . . . Are you, perhaps . . . lonely?” He looked positively terrified, but she thought his tone bordered on hopeful.
Emily ran the tip of her finger around the edge of her cup. Heart, beauty, warmth, communication, courage.
“You know Aleck, I do believe you’ve solved our mystery.” She laid her hand on the table and slowly moved her fingers toward his.
“I wondered if — I mean, I hoped —” His hand reached to meet hers. “I was lonely too,” he whispered. “So I made a wish.”
Emily smiled, entwining her fingers with his. “Perhaps you can tell me all about that octopus while you’re replacing the brick you stole from my hearth.”
***
Melanie Mulrooney lives in Nova Scotia with her husband and a gaggle of kids. Her work has been published with Elegant Literature, Humour Me Magazine, Lit Nerds, and others. When not writing or child-wrangling, she can be found reading, strolling through the woods, or volunteering in her community— usually with a cup of tea in hand, and always wearing comfortable shoes. Find her at melmulrooney.com or on bluesky @melmulrooney.bsky.social.
Well done. An enjoyable read and worthy of runner up!