The curse of indecision

A snowy mid-winter afternoon was the perfect time for Esmé to take stock of her supplies. Winter had had come early and was harsh this year. The surrounding villages had used many of her potions already. They were well known to keep the wolves away from their livestock. She made a note that her stock of wolfsbane was running low.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway announced the time. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. With a weary sigh Esmé walked from her storeroom to the front door. Taking a deep breath she prepared herself for her daily visitor.

At exactly five minutes past three, she heard the now familiar timid knock on the door. As she expected, a tall burly knight stood on her front step.

‘Hello, Sir Knight. How can I help you today?’ she asked.

‘Greetings Ms. Esmé’, he replied with a flourish and a bow, ‘The potion to lift my curse of indecision, do you still have it?’

Esmé picked up a small amber glass bottle from her hall table, and showed the knight the now worn label. ‘It is right here Sir Knight. Have you decided to take it today?’

The knight raised his hand as if to take the bottle, but stopped a fingers breadth away.

‘Alas, I cannot’, replied the knight. ‘I am sorely conflicted. What do you think I should do?’ he pleaded.

‘You know I cannot tell you’, she replied sadly. ‘You must decide of your own free will’.

With a despondent sigh the knight bowed and said, ‘I cannot. I remain confounded and dismayed by my indecision’.

He turned away quickly and walked back the way that he had come.

Esmé watched the knight despondently walk down the snowy path. She hoped that he would come to realise that he had no need for a potion. He already had the power within himself to break the curse.

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