Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….
Copyright – G.L. MacMillan
Widow Wyncke stood at the door of her little apothecary, watching the slim form of her apprentice Henry Stirrell disappearing down the street.
“Stupid cunt, just because you inherited the business doesn’t make you an apothecary.”
Her cheek recovered rather quickly from his slap, but his words inflicted wounds that seemed impossible to heal.
Retreating to her shop, she started to prepare a powder for Mrs Abbot’s children. All three of her little ones were running a scarlet fever and doctor Cademan almost bled them to death.
Grinding the ingredients in the mortar, she thought to herself: Just breathe.