Short Story Of the Day, The Sorcerer’s Intern by Bill Chance

“”Not quite, Mizzus Irene. I’m only the intern. I’ve only learned a little… I can turn lead into wood.”

—-Bill Chance, The Sorcerer’s Intern

Street Magician
New Orleans, Louisiana

I have been feeling in a deep hopeless rut lately, and I’m sure a lot of you have too. After writing another Sunday Snippet I decided to set an ambitious goal for myself. I’ll write a short piece of fiction every day and put it up here. Obviously, quality will vary – you get what you get. Length too – I’ll have to write something short on busy days. They will be raw first drafts and full of errors.

I’m not sure how long I can keep it up… I do write quickly, but coming up with an idea every day will be a difficult challenge. So far so good. Maybe a hundred in a row might be a good, achievable, and tough goal.

Here’s another one for today (#12). What do you think? Any comments, criticism, insults, ideas, prompts, abuse … anything is welcome. Feel free to comment or contact me.

Thanks for reading.



The Sorcerer’s Intern

“Honey!” the Sorcerer’s wife said when she heard her husband come through the door of their trailer, “I left some fishing weights on the table, could you turn them into gold, please. I’m a little short with the grocery money this weekend.”

“Sorry, Mizz Irene,” said the Intern, “It’s only me, Hugo.” The young Hugo lurched into the trailer lugging two heavy buckets of water.

“Darn! Where is The Great Sadini anyway? You can’t make some gold for me, can you?”

“Not quite, Mizzus Irene. I’m only the intern. I’ve only learned a little… I can turn lead into wood.”

“Then we couldn’t even use them for fishing weights now, could we,” she said with a sigh.

“Mr. Sadini wanted me to do some cleaning up and fill the tank in the cellar,” said Hugo.

“OK, then, you better get to it.”

Irene opened a hatch in the floor of the little trailer, Hugo lifted the buckets trying not to slop any water out and slipped through into the little hole in the ground below.

“I always hate this part,” he said.

Once under the surface the passage magically opened up into a stone staircase going down into murky depths. Hugo lit a torch so he could see and shook his head at the dirt, dust, and cobwebs that had collected in only a couple of days.

“Magic sure collects the filth!” he shouted, but Irene couldn’t hear him. He saw the big, empty tank and dreaded the work ahead. A lot of water lugging for an unpaid intern.

Then he saw Sadini‘s blue magic hat festooned with a moon and stars hanging on a peg against the wall next to an old straw broom.

Humming a little tune by Dukas, he donned the magical headgear.

“I think I know an easy way to make this go a little faster,” he said to no one in particular.



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