Witch Season: Book 1

Chapter 3

All of Land's mail came through the Head Post Office in Brick Corners. It was a non-descript two storey house, which one might pass by unnoticed. What separated it from the rest of the buildings was a rather large blue mailbox and a trail of slime leading up into the entrance (left either by Juicy the dog or the post office's snails). "Careful, don't slip" read a dusty note handwritten by a rather crooked penman. It was small and situated in the shop's window. Too small for anyone sensible to notice, yet legal enough so that no one could pursue legal action.

First rays of dawn cracked through the mist that covered pavement, buildings and a rusty door that was wide open for half a minute and then shut with a thud and a turn of the key. Wendy the zero witch and Juicy the pug made their way through milky streets and damp puddles. Wendy cursed occasionally as she stepped onto one of the tiny ponds with her broken shoe. Up and down she limped, her socks soaking in water. Yet nothing could disturb a smile off her face. Soon, very soon she is to become a real witch.

That black velvet envelope she opened last night promised her many a thing. No more bargain pointy shoes from Trusty Joe's that once belonged to a mother of a someone and fell apart at near sight of bad weather. No more squid ink hair dye that cost half her monthly wages. And no more debates on whether she should make a pact with the woodland girls.

To be a witch you must be born into it. There is no other way really. Or you can go and hang out with the woodland girls but they are real trouble - conversing with the wrong sort of spirits, making bad deals and all that. And it is not like you could come in and join anyway. At first, you had to hand them half of your life as payment. Besides, they had messy hair and smelled funny. Wendy was too proud of her hair and would not have it any other way. It was an inky black bob. She spent many a coppers on the finest squid ink to keep up her hair the way it was. Otherwise, it was back to her natural existence as a mousy grey mop owner. She would have none of that.

There was also another way, the most impossible way how one could become a witch and that was by passing a rites exam at the semi-century gathering. Rumour had it that it was a way for young descendants of witches to join family covens ahead of time, skipping the ordeal of having to wait for the next witch to drop off the earth. They often did not and lasted centuries upon centuries. Who wouldn't if you knew the spells and had the artifacts. And so young witches grew old, tired of waiting they formed their own covens instead of joining family ones. This is when jealousy and rivalry embarked. Cats would disappear, plagues would be cast, and curses handed out like presents. It was real trouble. Witch society thought all the commotion to be most inappropriate and so the exams of passing one's rites were founded. Or so the rumour says.

Such gatherings and such tests were only a legend and a tale, until yesterday night, when Wendy has opened a letter holding an invitation to such an event. Mist concealed trees, poles, and holes in the cobble-stones, yet it could not conceal Wendy's gleaming eyes and an ivory smile of teeth.

She indeed would soon have her go and a chance at becoming a real witch. Those countless hours of practicing spells, making jam, knitting hats, and weaving broomsticks would not go to waste. Her childhood dream was to come true thanks to a note that was addressed to nobody in particular, and spelled in majestic dark brown cursive the following words:

"Dear witch,

You are holding in your hands your very own invitation to the Semi-Century Gathering. Please arrive on time, on the last day of the witch season, under the third moon, at hogsberry hour.

The evening will commence with string instruments, pie eating and tea drinking. Followed by the rites examination and ceremony. Bring your pointy hat, familiar of choice, and dress in all black. You will be tested beyond your limits. You have been warned.

A. G. M.

Witch Society"

No bother that Wendy had no clue as to where she'd find a third moon or what a hogsberry was. These were questions for later. As for now, Wendy the zero witch and Juicy the pug were on their way to celebrate. And what a better joint to pick than Wendy's beloved Muddy Brew. It offered best lime tarts and drip brew in town. Not to mention that her best friend Avy worked there.

Generally, Wendy disapproved of the mire girls. They traveled too much and they rode those horrid creatures - h o r s e s. The word itself sent shivers down Wendy's spine. How pre-war of them. How brute. In the town of Brick Corners where progress was you credo or you didn't live here at all, everyone who needed a ride would use their bicycle, tricycle, quadro or a monowheel. Also, what was the deal with all that traveling and seeing the world only to come back home a few years later and be pretty much forced into an arranged marriage. Wendy would have none of that. And so to her utter surprise she has bonded with Muddy Brew's barista and chef Avy.

Avy decided to stick it to her dad and settled in Brick Corners instead of returning back home to Mire. She also never offered Wendy one of those friendship bracelets that Avy kept on making all the time, that was only to Wendy's relief. Although secretly the zero witch always wanted one. They were just so vibrant and colourful, yet clashed with her black-burgundy-grey wardrobe.

No doubt or worry troubled Wendy this fine morning hour. She was entranced, excited and exhausted. All-night shift reflected in a shape of purple blobs under her eyes. Juicy, who got plenty of sleep, raced the streets in a jolly manner.

Running way ahead of his owner, he disappeared behind a red door.

△☽⊬

Authors' Notes

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. What do you think is behind that red door?...

Click the ✮ icon if you liked the story and please leave your comments, they keep me writing!