Mizella - The Festival

He heard all of the rumors growing up; a powerful witch that lived among the feral beasts, who conjured terrible potions and horrendous curses.  He never believed those stories, not for a second.

Yet, here he was, staring at the trail that led deeper into the woods, his bushy tail flicking back and forth.

He didn’t tell anyone where he was going.  His friends were too busy with the festival going on behind him stuffing themselves full of funnel cakes and popcorn, and hitting on all the cute girls wearing their too-small t-shirts and jean shorts.  Sure, he wants in on the fun, but not if every woman would make fun of his height.  It wasn’t his fault he was barely five-foot-nothing -- not every fox grew up to be tall, fit and handsome.

Well, that was going to change today.  He didn’t care how gullible he was being, not anymore.

He took one step, then another, the forest surrounding him as he wandered deeper within.  His eyes darted back and forth at every sound, be they a rustling of leaves or a gust of wind that rattled the branches above him.  

He wasn’t scared.  Nope.  Mr. Morrison’s finals were far more terrifying than an decrepit old forest.  He could do this.

A bright light caught his attention, drawing his gaze to the right.  A small tent appeared to jut out among the trees, made out of bright purple fabric, a gold trim running along its seams and length.  The smell of flowers and herbs filled his nose, replacing the sharper, more pungent smell of pine and decaying leaves.  It was intoxicating, and drew him closer.

He parted the bead mesh separating the tent from the outside world with his hands, surrounded by immeasurable oddities once inside.  A myriad of jars, each labelled and containing ingredients both mundane and mythical, sat on a shelf to his immediate left, while a wall of tomes stretched out to his right.  The tent itself was much bigger than the outside led him to believe, as a second divider of strung-up beads separated another interior section of the tent.

“Who’s there?” a voice rang out.  The fox yelped in shock, jumping back out of instinct.  A skunk woman stepped through the beads, dressed in a flowing blue shirt and a supplemental grey blouse.  Her dark hair was tied back into a ponytail, a large white stripe dividing her raven locks down the middle.  Ears jingled from the jewelry pierced across the edge, as her fluffy striped tail batted across the beads behind her, padding forward on sandaled paws.

“Er, s-sorry.  I guess I should have knocked, but...y’know.  No door.”  The fox thumbed toward the entrance, drawing a wry smile out of the skunk.  She looked young (about as young as him, if he had to guess), yet there was an air of elegance about her that suggested she was wiser than she let on -- absolutely nothing like the stories he heard.  Her height matched his as well, allowing her to see him eye-to-eye.

“Enh.  Doors are overrated,” she said in an unusually casual tone, with a hint of a Northeastern accent.  “Let me guess.  You came here because you heard about the scary witch that lived in the woods, yes?”

The fox blinked, taken aback by the skunk’s speech.  “Um...I guess?  You...don’t sound anything like a witch.”

The skunk rolled her amber eyes back.  “Ugh.  You know, not everyone that lives in the forest is a witch from the Middle Ages.  But I get it, you want the full experience.”  She grinned, clearing her throat.  “Welcome to my humble abode, traveler.  Rest ye weary bones aspell, and partake of my great and terrifying wisdom.”  She allowed herself a brief curtsy, struggling not to burst out laughing.  The fox awkwardly did the same.

“Okay, okay, yeah, that’s a little bit cheesy.”

“Glad you agree.  Now that that’s out of the way…”  The skunk rose back up.  “What brings you by?”

“Heh, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about yourself.  Scary old witch that lives in the forest?”

The skunk shrugged.  “I mean, you’re not wrong.  I’ve been called many things over the years.  Magician, summoner, alchemist, apothecary.  I even had someone call me the G-word once or twice.  They learned not to call me that very quickly.”  Her hands rested on her wide hips, showing off her stout figure.  She wore the weight quite well, he had to admit.  “I prefer Mizella.”

“Mizella.  Huh.”  The fox rubbed the back of his head.  “Guess it’s no secret I’m looking for your services, then.”

“You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Mizella said nonchalantly.  She waved to the back of the tent.  “Lucky for you, I just so happen to be an excellent problem-solver.  Let’s talk.”

The fox’s spirits rose as he followed the skunk lady’s lead, walking deeper inside the tent.  In the center of the room sat a small table, with two benches.  The table itself was covered in a fabric similar to the tent’s design, purple with a gold trim.  Nothing else rested on the table, although a series of small drawers and vials sat on the far side.  The witch took a seat on the end, offering the other bench to the fox.

“So, what can I help you with?”

The fox cleared his throat.  “Um, you see...I need help.”

“Well, duh.”  The skunk rested her head in one hand.  “What do you need help with?”

The fox let out an embarrassed “oh”, looking down at the table.  “You see, um...I’m short.  And I hate being short.  People make fun of me all the time because I’m always the smallest one in the room, and I’m tired of it.”

Mizella uttered out a quiet hum.  “I see.  There’s nothing wrong with being dissatisfied with your appearance.  But tell me, what bothers you about your height?  Most just get used to it.”

“Well, not me,” the fox said, somewhat defensively.

“Tell you what.  I’ll help you.  If you tell me the truth.”  Mizella sat up, looking at the fox with a piercing gaze.  The fox swallowed as the skunk looked him over with an inquisitive expression.

“I want to be taller to impress women,” he blurted out subconsciously.  Mizella’s expression turned from curiosity to weariness.  “Every girl I want to talk to laughs at me because I’m short.  They only want tall, handsome guys!  I didn’t go to college just so I could be the butt of every short joke!  Please, Mizella, help me!  Make me taller!”

Mizella was silent, at first.  Her tongue ran over her lips.  “Is that all?  You simply want to be more attractive?”

The fox nodded.  “I know it’s a selfish request, but I need this!  I’ll do whatever it takes!”

Mizella’s eyes seemed to flash in the dim light.  “Very well, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”  She turned around, reaching into one of the endless drawers behind her, procuring a small vial of clear liquid.  She placed it down on the table in front of her.  “Drink this.”

“Um, what is it?”

“It’s a catalyst I created.  It’s designed to bring out one’s true form.  In your case, you wish to change your size.  This formula will do just that, and grant you the height you so desire.”  Mizella smiled, flashing a set of uncharacteristically sharp teeth at the vulpine man.  “I should warn you, though.  The cure is sometimes more dangerous than the disease.”

The fox hesitated, taking the vial in his hand, swirling it around.  He popped the cork off with his thumb, giving it a cautious sniff.  There was no aroma -- in fact, the only thing he could smell was the incense the skunk used throughout the tent.  “Okay.  What’s the catch?”

Mizella leaned back, as if offended.  “A catch?  There’s no catch!  I just want to help you.”

“More like make a fool of me.”  Suddenly, the fox smirked.  “I get where this is going now.  You give me a bottle of watch so I’ll pony up the cash for the good stuff.  Come on, you’re a witch.  Cast a spell on me or something!”

Mizella sighed to herself.  “You’re making a lot of assumptions about me.  I can’t just wave my hands or stare into some crystal ball and magically make you bigger.  Tell you what, if you’re so skeptical, I’ll join you.”  Before he could protest, she whipped around, producing another vial out of the same drawer.  “Whatever happens to you, happens to me.  Sound fair?”

The fox looked doubtful, but shrugged.  “Whatever.  You go first, though.”

“If that’s what you want.”  Mizella tilted the potion back, drinking its contents in one swallow.  The fox tilted his head, monitoring the skunk for any changes.  Nothing happened -- at least, not at first.  Her eyes closed as she let out a sharp chirp, her body rising up a few inches taller as she leaned back in her chair.  The fox’s eyes went wide as she expanded taller before her eyes, adding another foot of height to herself before the catalyst’s effects ebbed away.  Her hands rested on her hips, smiling down.

“There.  Satisfied?”

Nodding once and eagerly, the fox drank his own vial, struggling not to gag.  The flavor was at once sweet and incredibly bitter, with a unpleasantly tart aftertaste.  He retched, dropping the vial as he shook his head.

“Ugh, gross.”

“Never said it tasted good.”

Recovering from the taste, the fox closed his eyes, waiting for his turn.  Nothing.  Eyes opening, he looked himself over.  Still the same height as ever.  “Hey, what gives?  Why aren’t I taller?”

“Patience.  You remember when I said that the potion was a catalyst?  And that I couldn’t just magic up a height change?”

“Yeah?  What about it?”

Mizella flashed the fox another grin.  “I lied.”  She tapped the tip of his nose with her finger, the tip glowing a faint purple.  The moment she did, the room began to spin.  His body ached, burned.  It was as if every nerve was firing off all at once, then pressed on from all sides.  This wasn’t right.  This felt --

Everything went dark.  

When he finally came to, he found himself staring at the tent’s ceiling, lying on his back on something oddly soft.  He sat up, closing his eyes to keep the room from spinning more than it already was, reaching to rub his bare chest --

Wait.  Where were his clothes?

The fox opened his eyes again, noticing a large wooden structure to his left, in front of an even larger wooden pillar.  Next to that was a large, black paw, the toes wiggling teasingly on the rub below, having removed her sandals.

That paw was bigger than he was.

“Well, now, I think I’d call that a success,” Mizella said, her tone carrying a thunderous force to it, without changing in pitch.  The fox looked up...and up.  The skunk had shed some of her own clothing as well, wearing a white undershirt and dark shorts.  Her ears were brushing up against the tent ceiling as she took a step forward, making him shake from the impact.

Hold on.  The formula didn’t make her that much taller, did it?  No, she was bigger, much bigger.  And he was smaller.  Much smaller.

“What the heck?”  The fox stood up, struggling to keep his footing atop his old, wrinkled t-shirt.  “What did you do to me?”

“Exactly what I said I would.  I changed your height.”

“But I wanted to be taller!  This isn’t what I asked you to do!”

Mizella shrugged.  “I didn’t break any promises to you.  I told you I’d bring out your true form, and that’s exactly what I did.  I don’t get why you’re so upset.”

“You lied to me!  You change me back, right now!”  The fox shouted in anger at the taller woman, but another errant thump of her paw on the ground brought his situation into stark reality.

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.  The effects last for at least 24 hours.  I can’t change you back, even if I wanted to.”

The fox whimpered, struggling not to stare at the gigantic black-furred foot only mere inches away.  “Why...why did you do this to me?”

“You did this all to yourself.  You didn’t desire height for anything other than to hit on women, instead of bettering yourself.  My potion brought that side of you out to the surface, that’s all.  Just so happens you’re much smaller than you realized!”

“But...why didn’t it make you smaller?”

“Simple.  I wanted to be bigger.”  Mizella grinned toothily, leaning down, taking up most of the fox’s vision as her hand reached out towards him.  He shouted out, struggling to get away from her grasp, but his efforts were in vain.  He suddenly found himself in the skunk woman’s palm, staring up at her face, and those dangerously sharp teeth of hers.

“Oh, God...don’t eat me, please!”

Mizella blinked.  “Eat you?  Oh please, like you’d even be a suitable snack.  No, I think I have a better idea.”  Walking over to a smaller drawer, she opened it up, rummaging through its contents, and pulling out a small, hollow-out lantern, not too dissimilar to an iron cage.  Lifting off the top portion with her free hand, she tilted the other down, so that the fox began to tumble forward, sliding into the enclosure, which she quickly closed.  The iron bars rose up in all directions, making climbing out or squeezing through nearly impossible.

“This isn’t funny!” he screamed, coming out as more of a squeak than a yell.  “Let me go!”

“Oh, I will.  In 24 hours, I’ll give you the antidote and cast the spell necessary to bring you back.”  Mizella lifted the cage back up to her eye-level, giving him a truly terrifying view of both how small he shrank, and how tall she had become.  She had to be seven...no, eight feet tall.

“W...what are you going to do with me?” he stammered out.  Mizella only laughed.

“What else?  There’s a festival going on, and I’m going to have some fun!  I can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces when they see me!  You’ll need to introduce me to your friends, too!  I’m sure they’ll love to see the new you!”

“W-wait, please --” 

The fox’s pleas fell on deaf ears as she grabbed a carabiner, attaching the makeshift cage to a notch in her shorts, causing him to topple over once she hooked it into place.  The skunk took strides towards the mesh leading outside, the constant movement making it hard for the fox to keep his footing.

“Mmm, this is going to be so exciting,” Mizella exclaimed as she followed the trail towards the festival grounds, eager to let her hair down and have some fun.

That, and funnel cakes.  That was the best part.