Behind lion-colored walls of stone, Carmen poured tiny seeds from a phial into her son’s palm.
“Sprinkle the magic seeds over the soil.”
Max spread the seeds, and his mother helped him water the desolate gravel.
“What seeds are those?” her husband asked when Max had gone.
“Shouldn’t we teach him science instead of lying?”
“You don’t feel seeds are magical?”
“I do, but…”
“Max has his whole life to learn science, but only his precious childhood to experience magic.”
“You’re a good mom, Carmen.”
“Not a good sorceress?”
“That goes without saying. You’ve enchanted me for years.”
Friday Fictioneers: 100-word stories
photo prompt: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The meta-story: I saw a longer story taking place behind the colorless, dry walls in this picture, but cut to 100 (with some hocus-pocus) to participate. I hope it still works.