The Vault

Modern Witchcraft 1.01

The wooden doors creaked open to a dark and stuffy chamber. In the middle of the room stood a sturdy wooden table covered with a tablecloth as dark as midnight. The big hearth took almost half of the wall, while the rest was surrounded by shelves full of dried herbs and jars. The heavy, dark curtains covered the back of the room.

With one swift movement, the witch strolled straight for it and drew it open.

What was hidden behind completely contrasted with the rest of the hut. A modern-looking room has brightly painted walls and contemporary furniture, including a medium-sized desk with a computer, a leather chair, and file cabinets.

The witch clapped her hands twice, and the lights turned on.

"All right, let's get to it. I'll check our supplies. Merlin, can you look at the schedule for me?" she said and looked at the decaying shelves.

The black cat jumped on the desk and put his paw on the touchpad, bringing the screen to life. "We are booked for the whole day today," he announced. "The first customer will be here in fifteen minutes."

"Fine. Let's get moving, then. We are running low on sparrow entrails and snakeskin. Order some from Amazon, please."

The witch walked to the big mirror. The beautiful woman glanced at her from the other side, her dark hair curled around her face with a perfect complexion and not one wrinkle. A designer summer dress hugged her curves as if it was made just for her.

She sighed, took a dark baggy rag from the hanger, and pulled it over her head. It was an old thing, full of patches and tiny tears, smelling a bit of must. The witch took a silver tube and sprayed generously at her hair, covering it with grey paint. She ran her hands through it, messing it completely.

She looked at her reflection critically. She still had to fix her face, but there was no time for stage makeup now. Oh, well, magic it is then, she thought and snapped her fingers. Her skin immediately became sagged and waxy, wrinkled like old leather.