Dust and Flight

When Gwendolyne Morgan read the words “Flying Powder” on the front of the bejeweled little case in the attic, the nine-year-old naturally disbelieved it.

“Powder can’t make things fly,” she muttered to herself as her little fingers traced the intricate designs sculpted into the heavy metal box. Despite her aunt’s “Don’t know, don’t touch” policy, her insatiable curiosity got the better of her. She flipped the shiny clasp and opened the lid, expecting something dazzling or glittery inside.

The young girl was severely let down. What lay inside was not in the least dazzling or glittery. It didn’t even appear particularly interesting. It was just a mound of dust, the everyday dust which usually ended up in a vacuum cleaner at the end of the day. And it was supposed to make things fly? Jumping off a cliff with an open umbrella seemed more likely to get someone airborne than this sorry lot.

Suddenly, Aunt Christie’s shrill voice broke into Gwendolyne’s disappointed thoughts.

“Lunch is ready!” her aunt shrieked.

Gwendolyne dropped the box, letting loose a stream of toe-curling profanity (learned firsthand from her elder sister) as the absurdly heavy box landed on her toe. To her dismay, more than half of the dust had spilled out of the box and over the surrounding objects, making them look ancient and untouched for millennia. Sparing the attic a final glance, Gwendolyne hastily stuffed the box into the large pocket of her dungarees and didn’t stay long enough to see the dust-covered trunk of clothes lift itself several feet off the ground.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Aunt Stephanie burst into the room Gwendolyne shared with her ten-year-old sister Alice. Right behind her, her face flushed red with both the effort of running through the entire house and the sight which greeted them up on the ceiling, was Alice herself. Neither face looked happy.

“I’m up here!” Gwendolyne called. Aunt Stephanie’s head swiveled up to face the ceiling, where her youngest niece was holding onto for dear life. “And I can’t come down,” she added remorsefully. “I guess I’m stuck.”

Aunt Stephanie’s eyes were wide behind their owlish glasses as she asked, “How on earth did you manage to get up there, child?”

Gwendolyne was adamant. “I dropped the box on the floor again!” she moaned. “The dusty stuff spilled all over my feet . . . before I knew it I was up here.”

"What “dusty stuff”?” Alice looked like she would have enjoyed wringing her sister’s neck at that moment. Fortunately for Gwendolyne’s neck, the ceiling was a full three metres from the floor. Salvation came in another form; Aunt Stephanie saved Gwendolyne the trouble of answering Alice’s impatient question as she swooped down on the little box.

“This “dusty stuff”, young lady, is the last of my great-great-grandmother’s flying powder. She made it herself – the secret recipe was of her own invention. So secret, in fact, that the method went with her to the grave. I had hoped to keep enough of the stuff until I went to the grave . . . I suppose I’ll just have to get used to airplanes.” She rattled the box impatiently and shot a look at Gwendolyne. “I believe there is a proverb to describe your situation?” she inquired amusedly. “Something about “Curiosity killed the cat,” hmm?”

“Meow,” whispered Gwendolyne in as apologetic a tone as she could muster. “But Auntie, how am I going to get down?”

Her aunt chuckled and left the room for a few minutes. When she returned, she was holding a long spray-can with a bright blue lid, about the size of a can of tennis balls. A glossy label on the silver can proclaimed it to be Home-Use StopSpell®, Ideal for Getting Rid of Spells Gone Wrong. The spidery black writing almost went off the label.

Gwendolyne shuddered. This was suddenly getting out of hand. “Alright,” she said nervously. “But if you spray me with that, and the powder stops working, then – how will I get down?”

Alice grinned. “Should’ve thought of that before draping yourself in dust, little sister.”

“But – but –”

“Too late,” muttered Aunt Stephanie, and she sprayed.