The Unfortunate Witch

by Jadyn, Age 12 , Grade 7, KENTUCKY

“Oh no, not again.” She was in trouble, in really big trouble. Philomena is a witch, a young witch, and a very unfortunate witch. This wasn’t supposed to be a difficult spell, but she could tell by the look of the egg, that this wasn’t an ordinary chicken egg. This egg was much larger. It was red and had yellow spots. Philomena couldn’t tell what kind of egg this was, but she knew she couldn’t use it to make breakfast. Before she left, her mother had strictly forbidden her the use of grandmother’s spell book and to use her magic in school, but she never said anything about using magic around the house. Philomena merely wanted to make breakfast for her father, when her misfortune struck again.

Philomena Petronius comes from a long line of witches. In her family, only the women are witches. Her grandmother, Walpurga Wadanohora, is an excellent potion maker, who specializes in healing potions. Her mother, Athena Petronius, is the best aviator to ever mount a broom. Her family tree reaches all the way back to the most famous witch of all, Morgana le Fey. Morgana was a powerful enchantress and an apprentice of Merlin. Philomena, on the other hand, isn’t good at anything when it comes to witchcraft. The simplest spells end in disaster, her potions regularly explode, and she can’t even count how many times she fell off her broom. 

As she was thinking about her misfortune, a cracking sound catches her attention. She looks around the kitchen, wondering were the noise came from. Philomena inspects the egg and spots a long crack down the front. She moves closer and sees something stirring inside. She is excited and nervous as the egg cracks again and a piece of eggshell sails to the ground. A little head pokes through the hole, sneezes and spits fire. This was so much worse then she thought. She had transfigured a dragon egg! The dragon fully emerges, red scales cover its body and there are yellow stripes on its belly. It has two wings with claws at their ends and four legs. Two horns stick out of its head and a long tail trailed behind.

Philomena watches in disbelief, as the little creature jumps head first into the pantry. It rummages through the boxes and cans searching for something. Cans and glass jars come crashing to the ground, cereal rains from the shelf, and a bag of flour tears open, leaving white dust everywhere. Finally, the dragon finds what it was looking for. It pops out with a piece of dried meat in its mouth. “What is going on down there?,” Philomena’s father yells as he stomps down the stairs. Philomena scoops up the dragon and hides it under a large bowl. She grabs a dust pan and starts sweeping up the mess when her father enters the kitchen. He stops short and takes in the scene in front of him. “Philomena, how did this happen?,” her father asks. “I just wanted to make breakfast,” Philomena responds.

“Maybe I’ll take care of breakfast, and you finish cleaning.” Philomena quickly scoops the rest of the egg shell in the trash bin and finishes up cleaning. Her father had been so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed the colorful egg. Philomena’s heart stopped beating as she sees her father reaching for the large bowl. She sighs in relief when she sees that the bowl is empty. The relief doesn’t last very long because Philomena realizes there is a fire breathing dragon roaming around and she has no idea were it could possibly be.

The young witch dashes out of the kitchen looking for any signs the dragon might have left behind. Suddenly, she smells something burning. She follows the scent to an open window and looks outside. Her mother’s favorite rose bush has caught fire. It appears that the dragon wanted to smell the roses, when he sneezed and accidentally set the bush on fire. Out of breath, Philomena mutters a rain spell. Unfortunately, her breathlessness caused her to mispronounce the words Aquarius marina. Instead of raining ocean water it starts to rain sea creatures.  With tears in her eyes, it occurs to her that she must have said Aquarium marina. 

This has to stop! She scoops up her dragon, hops on her bike, and rides to her grandmother Walpurga’s house. Hearing Philomena’s knocks on the door, her grandmother opens the door. “Oh, Philomena, what have you done this time?,” Walpurga asks as she stares at her granddaughter who is covered in seaweed, soaking wet, and is holding a fire breathing dragon. The young girl tells her grandmother everything that had happened since breakfast that morning. Laughing, Walpurga undoes the spells. “You really are the most unfortunate witch, Philomena,” her grandmother says as she embraces her.

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