For many years, I have sought a break from the pain of politics and taken refuge inside of fiction. When this wasn’t enough, I began creating my own.
For your Halloween moods….
This is an excerpt from my unpublished short story work (copywrited).
“A Witch and Her Wishes.”
“In this scene, the sixteenth-century witch called Gatha learns that modern people actually enjoy being frightened. So she decides to help out a little.
On Halloween evening, she throws an impromptu party in an abandoned church’s overgrown dirt parking lot.
***
There was a large gathering between the church and the cemetery in the big open lot. At least fifty children had shown up, with some chaperones as well. Andrew was bored. He rubbed his finger over the cell phone his father had loaned him. I’m fourteen.’Should have my own by now. It’d been a while since they had seen Gatha. Some of the children were getting ready to leave, whether due to boredom or being a bit more afraid to stay near the old graveyard.
“I’m getting too old for this, little sis.”
“She’ll be here.” Nancy punched his arm but got no reaction. “Just wait.”
“What’s that?” He heard someone say. There were hushed whispers as people began pointing to a dim light at the far side of the cemetery. Another light came into view but closer. As they all watched, candles randomly lit, one by one, all over the cemetery. Each was perched in the center of a gravestone, about chest high. The moon was full, and it was plain to see that there wasn’t anyone there lighting the candles.
Whispers and worried looks shot back and forth in the crowd. Everyone began to group closer together. Andrew put his finger on the #1 key of the phone. Someone else pointed out an orange light. It was near the first candle and gravestone, but it looked like it was on the ground. Heads strained to see more clearly. Another orange light could be seen on the ground only thirty feet away. It took a moment for Andrew to see that it was coming from a jack-o-lantern, but it had only one eye. Andrew looked at Nancy, who shrugged. More pumpkins began to light up, each with only one eye. Andrew scanned the area for their new “witch” friend but didn’t see her. When he turned back to the pumpkins, he could see that now two eyes were lit up on a few of them. More than one person gulped as they gazed into the graveyard, waiting for what came next. Many of the gravestones now had a lit candle on top of them and a jack-o-lantern with only two eyes looking fiercely back at them. It was eerily quiet. Slowly a third light was seen on the pumpkins, one by one. The nose holes all began to come into view. But all still lacked a mouth.
There was a small rustle of dead leaves, and a strong but calm voice came from near the tree at the far end of the field area. A tall figure in a black cloak was walking towards the crowd.
“I told you she’d be here!” said Nancy. Andrew wasn’t relieved.
With the wide, flat-brimmed hat, the figure walked along the empty path between the cemetery and the grassy lot near the crowd. She walked up with her brim down, hiding her face. Then she stopped in the center of the lot’s edge and slowly raised her chin. The pleasant, smiling face of an older woman greeted the crowd.
“I am Gatha Ghostbury, the land's eldest and most powerful witch.” She looked around the crowd and then opened her arms wide. “And I bid you, Happy Halloween!”
The grins on the jack-o-lanterns slowly lit up as if they were opening their mouths. Chills ran down Andrew’s spine, and Nancy hugged his arm tightly. He held the #1 key down on the old flip phone.
“But it can not be a party without music! Mr. Stokes?” Gatha lowered one arm and then motioned toward the wall of the abandoned church. The high school music teacher laughed and began playing a slow tune on his fiddle. Then Andrew caught someone else by the church wall. It was Carl, the builder his father knew! He was pouring gallons of cider into a huge pot over a fire while whistling to the music. Andrew relaxed and hit the red “End Call” button.
People applauded and complimented Gatha as she made her way toward Andrew and Nancy. Most were moving toward the cider now. A little blonde girl dressed like a dancer pulled on Gatha’s cloak as she approached. Her mother gently removed her hand while smiling politely at Gatha.
“How’d you light them?” the girl pleaded.
Gatha smiled and stopped to look at her. “By magic. It’s especially good on All Hallow’s Eve, you know.”
“Are you really a witch?”
“Of course.” She motioned upward with a hand. A black shadow ran up her side to perch on her shoulder. The cat “yowled” and rubbed its chin against Gatha’s face. The moon illuminated its one white eye, missing ear, and rough, almost scaly right side of its head and face.
The girl’s mother pulled her back a step.
“Remember, all real witches have a familiar, a special animal friend they are magically connected with. This is Mordred. He had an accident when he was a kitten. ‘Chased a frog right into a potion I was brewing.” She sighed. “He was lucky I was there to save him. I know he looks scary, but I would be lonely without him, now wouldn’t I?”
The girl nodded vigorously and pushed back into her mother’s grasp.
“Now you be a good boy, Mordred, and watch for our other friends.” The cat jumped down and ran through the crowd as squealing children got out of his way. She felt a twinge in her left ear after moving through the crowd for a while. Turning to face the direction, she saw Mordred moving behind a pair of teenagers. She smiled and proclaimed loudly, “It is time for a little more magic, my friends.”
The children cheered and clapped. Most were enjoying the cider, spooky surroundings, and slow fiddle music. Gatha walked to the bullies, the two camouflaged teens, and grabbed each by the arm, right above the elbow. They tried to pull free, but her hands were clamped hard.
“And it just so happens we have a couple of volunteers!” The crowd cheered loudly now. Most of them recognized the teens as the ones who took candy just about every year.
Lars squirmed a bit. “Let me go, you old…”
Gatha turned and looked directly into his eyes. “You will do exactly as I say, boy, or I will hunt you down every Halloween for the rest of your life!”
He closed his mouth and stopped resisting. Dennis avoided Gatha’s look when she turned to him.
“Now, my friends, it is time to summon up the ghosts of Halloween!”
The cheering stopped. Dozens of widened eyes looked toward the adjacent graveyard.
“But we must first lower our defense, for ghosts will not come out with the jack-o-lanterns protecting us.” She pushed the bullies forward some. “It is well that we have such brave young men to blow out the pumpkins in the graveyard.”
Lars and Dennis looked at Gatha. “Yeah, right!”
“What’s the matter? Are you afraid?” Andrew yelled. There were some chuckles in the crowd. Lars began to reply, but Nancy cut him off.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be like taking candy from a baby!” This brought uproarious laughter from the crowd.
Gatha smiled at her, then turned to the teenagers. “I will help make it easier for our brave young men.” She looked back to the crowd. “Now quiet down, please. I will ask all of you to close your eyes for the count of three. Are all of you ready?” The crowd nodded. Lars and Dennis didn’t. Gatha spoke softly, mysterious-sounding words to the night, then shouted.
“Close your eyes!” Even the teenagers closed their eyes. Andrew closed his eyes and felt Nancy grab his hand tightly. Gatha shouted, “One, two, three! And you may look!”
Everyone opened their eyes and gasped. The candles had switched places with the pumpkins. The candles were now on the ground, and the Jack-o-Lanterns were perched atop the gravestones. Gatha released Lars and Dennis.
“Now, isn’t that better? Now you can blow them out without crawling around.”
The crowd applauded. Andrew looked on in disbelief. “Wow…that was…how did she do that?” He mumbled. Nancy pulled on his sleeve. “Because she’s a witch dummy!”
Andrew ignored her and watched the two boys. They didn’t move. But the crowd began jeering. “I’ve never seen a camouflaged chicken!” someone yelled. Laughter followed. “How about a pair of camouflaged chickens?” someone else added, and more laughter followed.
Lars sneered and walked into the graveyard. Dennis followed. But just inside the gravestones, they felt less fearless. They were only about thirty feet away from everyone and in plain view. But that didn’t make them feel any better.
“All right, we play this old lady’s game,” Dennis whispered. “Blow out the candles and get out of here, got it?” Lars nodded. They walked over to some Jack-O-Lanterns. They each took the top of a pumpkin, opened it, and bent to blow out the candle. Then, they froze. There were no candles. Nothing but a single flame burned on the bottom of the pumpkin. There were no candles, wax, wicks, or holders.
Dennis looked up at Gatha, who was smiling wickedly. Lars took a deep breath and blew into his pumpkin. To the boys’ relief, it went out. Dennis followed his lead, and the first two pumpkins were dark. Neither of them looked at the engraving on the headstones.
The children began to egg them on a little bit. “Hurry up, we want to see the ghosts!” someone yelled. The pair of teens extinguished the next few pumpkins quickly. Suddenly, Dennis gasped after he blew out a pumpkin. Lars looked at him with curiosity. Dennis stood up with a shocked look on his face and then ran to another pumpkin. He looked down at the gravestone as he took the top off of the pumpkin. It was a very old stone, and he could barely see the worn inscription from the candlelight on the ground. He watched the gravestone’s face as he blew out the pumpkin. The inscription on the stone changed as soon as the pumpkin was out. It had flipped upside down so he could read it clearly looking down. But now it read plainly, “Help me, please help me.”
He yelled and jumped back. Some of the children in the crowd yelled when Dennis did and giggled as they grabbed a hold of one another. Dennis looked at Lars.
“When you blow out the next one, look at the stone. Try to read the stone.” He said panting. Lars nodded and bent to blow out the flame. This stone wasn’t as old as the others, and he could read the name “Jonathan Bertrand Weatherby III.” But after he blew out the flame, he could clearly see it now, facing him. The stone now read, “It hurts. Please make it stop.” He shot upright with his eyes wide. Dennis was breathing hard.
“You saw it, too!”
“Look,” Lars forced his words. “..she’s playing a game with us. Let’s just run through the rest as fast as we can and get out of here!” Dennis licked his lips nervously but nodded.
The two ran as fast as they could from stone to stone, blowing out the jack-o-lanterns. They tried not to see the writing, but their heightened senses and widened eyes still caught inverted words cut into the stone.
Pain. Soon. Free. Help. More. Closer. Near. Below. Forever.
The words and their running about prevented them from noticing the clouds covering the moon above. When they ran to the last jack-o-lantern, both boys were frantic. Dennis took off the top, and Lars blew it out. Instinctively, they glanced at the headstone as the flame went out.
Now we’re free.
At that moment, every candle and every light in the entire area went out. There were truncated screams from the crowd, then shocked silence. The teens looked around, but their eyes hadn’t quite adjusted yet. As far as they could see and hear, they were in a pitch-dark cemetery alone. A silent, wispy, grayish figure flew right in between the two boys and vanished from sight. They screamed and ran. They had zig-zagged through the remaining headstones and were sprinting across the grassy field toward the town’s lights in seconds.
Gatha lit a small lantern in her hand. As she did, the clouds passed beyond the moon, bringing back its pale light. She put one fist on her hip and groaned.
“Of all the sorry luck! No ghosts tonight. Just a couple of wailing banshees!”
The crowd exploded into laughter. Mr. Stokes played a fast jig on the fiddle, and people started dancing.
Gatha glanced over her shoulder and nodded her head appreciatively towards a tree a few feet from the last jack-o-lantern. The owl shifted its stance and then flew into the night. Mordred climbed to her shoulder. She scratched his head and sighed at the gleeful crowd.
“Now that was fun!”
The cat howled in agreement.
***