Sometimes with writing exercises, it's easier to fit certain words into a recipe for a spell. A dash of this and a dash of that and voila...trouble lies ahead.
Sam sighed as he stirred the contents of the silver pot. It just didn’t look right, but he refused to believe all of his efforts were futile. He looked down at the recipe that had been passed down from generation to generation, scouring its instructions to determine if anything was missed. One wick from a fully burned down candle…check, blood of a goat…check, eyeball of a buffalo…check - everything…he’d done everything. Well, then it must be right, he thought to himself, so he took a spoonful and drank it waiting for it to take effect.