Gwendolyn Gobstopper's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Gwendolyn Gobstopper wanted to make a candy that granted wishes. She had heard it whispered by a customer that morning, and now she could not stop. She stood at her workbench in Clockwork Candies, sugar dusting her striped top hat, and stared at an empty copper pot. Every sweet she sold did something strange. Her toffee whistled. Her lozenges lifted people to the ceiling. But a wish was different. A wish needed a starting point, and she had none. She did not know where the tale came from. She was only guessing. She tried anyway. She melted sugar and dropped in a coin for luck. It sank and burned. She tried again with rosewater and a pinch of clock oil. The batch turned grey and bitter. By noon she had six failed pots and no idea what she was even reaching for. "I can't chase a story I've never heard," she said aloud. "I don't even know who told it first." The bell over her door jingled. Aura Prisma stepped in, her sketchbook open in one hand. The old artist was Gwendolyn's friend, and she noticed things others missed. She sniffed the burnt air and grinned. "Your shop smells like a sad little bonfire today, querida. What are you painting with all this smoke?" "A wish," Gwendolyn said. "A candy that grants one. But I've hit a wall. I've never heard the real tale. I don't know where it starts." Aura tapped her pencil against her chin. Then her whole face lit up. She flipped fast through her sketchbook, past doors and clocks and birds. "I drew it once," she said. "Years ago. An old woman in the market told it to me while I sketched her hands. She said the wish-confection was first made from a memory, not a recipe. You melt what you long for most, and the candy holds it." She turned the book around. On the page was a rough sketch: a woman stirring a pot, and above it, a small floating image of a blue door. "She said the maker cried into the sugar," Aura went on. "That was the secret. The wish comes from the wanting, not the ingredients." Gwendolyn stared at the drawing. Her hands went still. The tale had a source now. A memory. A longing melted down. It was strange, but it was a starting point, and she had never had one before. "So it isn't a recipe at all," she whispered. "It's a feeling I have to catch and cook." "Now you're painting," Aura said, and closed the book. Gwendolyn wiped her hands on her apron. She knew the origin at last. But knowing terrified her more than guessing had. To make the candy, she would have to melt down her own deepest longing, and she had no idea which memory that was, or what it might cost her to give it away.