Pumpkin Spice

My virtual group chose a writing prompt: 'Pumpkin Spice.' Here is my story

Bjarni watched the young black woman on stage recite her original spoken words with a passion rarely seen. People gathered around her as she cited a message of feminism, unity, and freedom of speech. The standing ovation she received was genuine and heartfelt. It took a while for the MC/comedian to quiet everyone before announcing Bjarni, the next act up.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to Bjarni. Born in Boston, fresh out of an assisted living home.” A roar of laughter exploded from Gen Z patrons as the elderly witch moved slowly to the stage. Eyeing her approaching, the MC said “Today is casual Tuesday. Why did you wear your Sunday best, Ms. B?”

More laughter erupted from the young crowd wearing jeans, flannel shirts, Nike sneakers, and Timberland boots. All eyes were on the elderly white witch dressed in a black gown, cape, and a black pointed hat. Gnarled and scarred hands from years of spell casting, gripped the microphone. “Dinosaur,” a young man shouted as the giggles continued. Bjarni cleared her throat as the crowd quieted down to scrutinize her next move. Bjarni clutched a glowing pentagram charm as she spoke to a sea of tadpoles observing her.

“It’s that time of year so tonight I shall summon the presence of autumn, the spirit of Pumpkin Spice,” she vowed. A hush fell over the room as lights dimmed and exit doors slammed shut. Bjarni chanted “Orange and brown, a harvest hue, Pumpkin Spice, a flavor true. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger I command, fill the room before my hand.” A gentle breeze blew through the club carrying with it the sound of falling leaves and cracking fireplaces. A warm cozy feeling washed over the crowd transferring a smell of ginger, apple pie, and Pumpkin Spice to their palettes.

When Bjarni finished casting her spell, the crowd, rose to their feet cheering madly. Some were moved by her words, others by the mystical presence they felt. It was the spirit of Pumpkin Spice. The MC led the crowd in a respectful chant. “Pumpkin Spice! Pumpkin Spice! Pumpkin Spice! Pumpkin Spice!”

As she left the stage, Bjarni said to herself “I may be two hundred years old, but I still got it,” she quipped, disappearing in the night.

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