Date: Mon, 25 Nov 1996 00:14:35 -0500 (EST)

From: Radioactive Loner

Subject: SRU: Spring Cleaning (1/1)









This story can be distributed freely on mailing lists,

newsgroups, and archives if two conditions are met: first,

that I be informed of the posting; and second, that for any

distribution outside of the TSA-TALK mailing list, my name be

removed from the story and authorship remain anonymous.  The

second condition is of extreme importance to me.



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                SPELLS 'R US: SPRING CLEANING



     The old man sneezed as a small cloud of dust arose from

a nook within the shop.  In one of the old man's hands was a

perfectly ordinary washcloth.  In the other was a perfectly

ordinary featherduster.  The old man sneezed two more times

in quick succession.

     "Never hurts to keep the place clean," he mumbled under

his breath as he worked at the counter's surface.  "Damn

faerie dust always messes up the spells."

     Suddenly, the old man's face darkened in a strange mix

of both anger and concern.  He placed the featherduster and

washcloth on the table gently and walked quickly to the front

of the shop.  He opened the door gently and smiled at a young

woman who was walking by the shop.

     "Dana?" he said.  "Would you mind stepping into my shop

for a moment?"

     The girl stopped.  She was in her late teens, and her

face was soft and delicately beautiful, pale skin framed by

brown hair.  The only thing marring this vision of loveliness

was the fearful look that had taken permanent residence in

her expression.

     "How ... how do you," she began, then trailed off as a

flash of fear ran through her eyes.  She had long ago learned

not to ask questions.

     The old man smiled.  "I am a wizard, Dana.  I am on your

side.  I will not do anything to hurt you in any way.

Please, believe me."

     She looked in the old man's eyes, and the kindly and

loving look in them reminded her of her grandfather, of a

loving childhood memory that didn't focus around ... she

willed that thought away, and, after a moment's hesitation,

walked quickly into the shop before she could change her

mind.

     Taking care not to touch her, the old man gestured to

a small table with two chairs in the corner of the shop.

[Dana could not have sworn to its existence a few minutes

earlier.]  On the table was a kettle and a cup of tea with

wispy curls of steam rising from its rim.  Dana sat down in

the chair and reached for the cup.

     "Don't drink from that cup quite yet, my dear," said the

wizard as he took a seat across from her.  He looked her in

the eye with a kindly gaze that somehow she could stand and

not turn away from.

     "I felt your trouble as you passed by the shop," he

began.  "I know, my dear, that you do not feel comfortable

speaking of ... what you have gone through.  Suffice it to

say that the evil which has been done to you can be stopped."

     "I ... " she began to object, but she could not muster

the strength when faced with the piercing, yet still kindly,

gaze of the shopkeeper.

     "No, my dear, do not object.  Evil of this residue

leaves psychic ... marks," the shopkeeper said, choosing his

words carefully.  He carefully watched the girl's reaction to

the word "mark."  A quick glance downward to her arm was

enough to confirm what he had read in her aura.

     "Suppose," he said, "that with one sip from something as

simple as ... as that teacup, you could begin your life anew

in a loving home.  And I would insure that what was done to

you would never be done again."

     The storekeeper watched the girl's fearful expression

carefully.  He saw, in the corner of her eyes, a glimmer of

hope begin to form.

     "I will be frank, dear.  One sip of that tea will

restore you to infancy.  And I will insure that you are

adopted by a loving family, and I will see that your current

parents are ... taken care of."

     The girl glanced down, and then shut her eyes.  She

reached for the teacup, and took a long sip.  As she glanced

back up, she invested the storekeeper with the one thing that

was hardest for her to give.  In a beautiful yet softly muted

voice, three syllables floated across to the old man's ears.

"I trust you."

     The old man watched as the girl's body lost its fullness

of breast and hip.  He watched with satisfaction as scars and

bruises unformed and healed.  Her hair receded into her scalp

until her head was only covered with a soft fine baby hair,

as her body shrank into smaller proportions.  Most lovely of

all, he watched as the expression of fear disapppeared to be

replaced by the joyful innocence of childhood.

     He picked the child up and chucked it under the chin.

The infant girl gurgled back happily and grasped onto the old

man's finger.  He diapered and put a cute dress on the little

child, and magicked her away to appear on the doorstep of a

loving couple who would have a lot of love to give, yet in

the past had failed to conceive a child.

     The old man watched as the new mother and father found

the infant on their doorstep and reacted in joy and love.  A

warm glow filled