Bijou and the Trapdoor in the Floor

               Even more curious were the floating white candles that lit the burrow and lined the passageway. On the ground beneath them were piles of clay pots marked Jam & Jungle Jelly and scattered glass apothecary bottles atop hovering golden shelves that read Enchanted Tears and Baobab’s Bark.

                “Such oddly labeled concoctions,” Bijou whispered, grazing the cork tops with her fingertips and tucking one that was labeled Elephant’s Wisdom into her dress pocket. “You can never have too much wisdom or quite enough care,” she recited, recalling her mother’s constant advice, however seldom minded. It didn’t seem to bother Bijou that the candles were floating on their own or the burrow had suddenly grown up all around her; she simply kept on, entranced by each little, odd item.