The Witch’s Wardrobe

“Rise and shine, my little pumpkin!

Time to get up.” said Mum.

Polly pulled the covers back over her head.

“Not getting up today,” she said.

 

“Why not?” asked Mum.

“Got nothing nice to wear,” said Polly.

“My hoodie looks like chewing gum,

and I’m tired of wearing pink.”

 

“You need a makeover,” said Mum,

“and I’m the Sorceress of Dress.

“Behold! An Aladdin’s cave of clothes

waiting in your wardrobe!”

 

“Let’s find some clothes that say Polly,

that show how you really feel …

“Sleepy and grumpy,” said Polly.

Mum waved her magic wand.

Abraca-dab Seven Dwarfs!” she shrieked.

 

In a flash Polly was wearing a new outfit.

“Well,” said Mum. “What do you think?”

“Too small,” said Polly.

“I think it’s cute,” said Mum.

 

“Ok then … how about something to wake you up?

Try this bright yellow tracksuit with police siren trainers.”

“Too loud,” said Polly.

“You look fabulous, darling,” said Mum.

 

“No? Oh well … something to cheer you up, then –

Woolly mammoth waistcoat

with singing underpants.”

“Too silly,” said Polly.

 

“You need to lighten up,” said Mum.

“How about some fancy dress –

pirate, princess or zombie?”

“I just want to be me,” said Polly.

 

“You can be anything you want,

my little dumpling,

as long as you’re magnificent.

Be bold!

Be brave!

Be wild, my child!

Try looking more like me.”

 

“But Mum …”

 

“Think of yourself as an empty page –

a work of art waiting to happen.

Just add

colour

texture

and     imagination

Abraca-Dali-Picasso!”

 

“Well,” said Mum. “What do you think of that?”

“Too weird,” said Polly.

“You look amazing,” said Mum,

but if you’re really sure …

… we could try some clothes with an animal theme …

 

Leopardskin leotard?

Tartan Turtleneck?

Monkey jacket?

Batwings?

Put them together and what have we got?

Abraca-zany-zoo-suit!”

 

“Doesn’t suit me,” said Polly.

“Piffle!” said Mum. “You look exotic

like a new creature waiting to be discovered.

Oh well …  never mind.

Let’s try something tasteful –

Candyfloss tutu,

Knickerbockers glorious,

Lemon meringue lederhosen,

with a Kipper tie and Spaghetti straps –

Abraca-scrum-dilly-yum-yum!”

 

Polly snatched Mum’s magic wand out of her hand.

“Stop your crazy spells!” she yelled.

 

“I get it,” said Mum. “You want to be really different.

You want to wear something that nobody’s worn before.

Aha! I’ve got a great idea –

Polly, put the kettle on!”

 

Stop!” shouted Polly

and her voice shook the room.

“I want to choose my own clothes!”

She disappeared into the darkest corner of the wardrobe.

When she came out she was wearing a simple black gown,

a pair of ruby slippers,

and a witch’s hat.

 

Mum looked disappointed.

 

“I’m a witch,” said Polly.

“Not your little dolly.

And this is what witches wear.

Remember what Gran always says –

‘sometimes less is more’.”

 

“But other times more is best,” said Mum,

as she snatched back her wand.

“Now for your hair  –

it makes you look square.

Let’s give it a little more life.

Abraca-pink-curly-poodle!”

 

“ … And your hat’s too flat – my wand can fix that!

Abraca-fez-chimney-pompom!”

 

“What about jewellery, tattoos and piercings?

Abraca-ring-a-bling-bling!”

 

Polly chased Mum around her room.

“Undo the spells right now!” she yelled.

 

But Mum just cackled like a crow.

“You need a new pet to make you stand out-

a dragon, a snake or a dodo …”

 

Sensing danger, Polly’s black cat sprang up at Mum.

She fell on the bed with a shriek.

Polly grabbed the wand once again.

Then she undid the spells by chanting them backwards.

 

“I give up,” sighed Mum, with a mischievous grin.

“I’ve done my best to make you marvellous,

but you’re determined to be dull.”

 

Polly frowned and brandished the wand.

“If you like those crazy outfits so much,” she said,

“why don’t you wear them yourself?

Abraca-scrum-Dali poodle-in-a-pompom!”

 

Mum admired her makeover in the mirror.

“Darling, I love it!” she beamed.

“This

Christmas

tree look could

really catch on …”

 

“You’re looking nice today, Polly,” said Gran,

when they arrived on their broomsticks for breakfast.

“You can’t beat the classic witch look, can you, dear?

Sometimes, as I always say …”

 

“… less is more,” finished Polly.

 

They sat down at the breakfast table and feasted their eyes on

a mountain of steaming pancakes,

dripping with maple syrup and lemon juice.

 

“But other times,” said Gran,

as she peeled off three pancakes,

 

“… more is best,”

said Mum and Polly and Gran together.

 

And they all helped to make the mountain disappear,

without using magic at all.

 

 

 

THE END

 

© Nick Walker 2011