Tag Archives: witch

Fantasy, General Fiction

Silverwood

Silverwood slept peacefully while the countryside burnt. It was not her fire. It was not her countryside either. Anyway, the villagers had always thrown stones at her when they saw her.

She slept peacefully and awoke to the sound of the troll groaning. She had forgotten to water him!

She quickly filled a bucket and lugged it downstairs to the basement where the bewitched creature was standing guard over her portal. It glugged the water down thirstily between belches, and she made a note that she must steal another child away from the village. The beast had not eaten for months now. He was such a bother.

***

The cosmic furnace heaved as stars and other celestial bodies were consumed. An ornate chimney ran from it into space where the stardust blew freely like smoke across the ashes of the universe.

“Yes dear,” an old woman said to an image of Silverwood, “Yes, yes, you are young. Don’t be so hasty to leave that planet, all the civilisations of the cosmos have their problems. For example, this one never discovered chocolate. Never. No wonder it ended in tears.”

The image of Silverwood frowned on the portal. At this point it was only displaying images, but–if the counterparty accepted it–the device could open a small wormhole between itself and receiving portals.

And there were many portals across the multiverse.

“But, mom…” Silverwood whined, her shoulders slumping, “It is so boring down here. And the people stink, and they don’t like me. There is nothing to do and it sucks.”

In the background, her troll was standing behind her, its back to her, guarding the portal against anyone other than her.

Silverwood’s mother sighed. She was too soft on her girls. She hoped that they did not grow up to be spoilt.

“OK, Silverwood–” her mother began, and before she even finished, the portal had solidified and Silverwood was standing before her with her troll. The old portal would deactivate on the planet until they needed it again.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Silverwood bubbled, looking around her mother’s moon, “Can I go somewhere exciting next?”

***

“Just because we are gifted with immortality and magic, doesn’t mean that we are gifted with the knowledge or wisdom of how to use it,” the old, white-haired man said as clouds drifted by him. The air seemed to glow up here as light-filled clouds made up the landscape around him and Silverwood’s mother.

“Yes, I have told our daughters this many times, dear,” she said, shaking her head, “But Silverwood still struggles with it. She struggles with the boredom of it all.”

Silverwood’s father smiled. He knew exactly where to send his daughter.

***

The camera flashes looked like mini-supernovas as she got out of the limo. There were so many of them. Bodyguards–led by her trusted troll, albeit slightly made-up to fit in here–kept the paparazzi at bay, but their numerous cameras flashed repeatedly overhead as she walked down the red carpet.

“Silverwood! Silverwood!” screamed a reporter that she mildly recognized. They locked eyes, so she paused and leant in for an interview. The famous mortal actor on her arm hung back and smiled in every direction for the pictures.

The world was watching.

“Silverwood, who did you cheat on your husband with?” the reported flashed some pictures that she barely saw. But, she did not need to see much. She knew, and now so did the reporter.

Her heart sunk. How?

“How-how did you get those?” Silverwood stumbled, as the world came crashing down around her. The famous mortal actor was no longer smiling on her arm. He reached forward and grabbed the photos of her and another man.

Cameras were flashing. The media buzzed ratcheted upwards. The entire world was watching. Silverwood no longer felt all-powerful and immortal amongst these maggots.

“No amount of magic can erase your feelings or undo your mistakes,” she heard her distant father whisper into her ear, “Just because we are gifted with immortality and magic, doesn’t mean that we are gifted with the knowledge or wisdom of how to use it.”

She could sense him smiling up in the light-filled clouds, but below him and around her the paparazzi and international media went crazy…

Fantasy

Not All That Is Wicked Is Evil

It was late when she realized that he was not coming. She had been waiting for ages, and now she was truly alone. Her Prince Charming was not running away with her. She could not go back. That was not how this worked. With or without him, she was not going back to that City with all those selfish, hurtful people. Each one of them thinking that they were the main character and abusing her shamelessly. No, she would make it on her own and he would be no part of her fairytale.

She felt silly wearing her pretty little dress–he had always liked it–and changed it for her black one. There was no one to care about this all the way out here in the Forest. She thought she would wear black from now. It was more practical.

She turned and, lugging her bag, walked deeper into the wild Forest. She would make her home somewhere in there. Maybe she would make it out of gingerbread and candyfloss? Her mother had passed on the Gift to her, after all, and should she not use it for her own benefit? Rather that than waste it on those self-absorbed monsters in the City. Who knows and who cares, because she was on her own now and she would write her own fairytale.

***

While she was all alone in her house and had no neighbours for miles, there were other beings that lived around her. Over time, she got to know a few of them.

She would help the Wolf get thorns out of his paws and brush the tangle and grass out of his fur. They got on well and he would bring her rabbits and, sometimes, fowl for her pot. On the other side of the Forest, the Three Bears lived and she would from time to time visit them. They loved their tea parties. Likewise, there was a Beast that lived in his castle deeper into the Forest than her. He would sometimes come to her house or she to his dusty castle. He was actually well-read and fantastic conversationalist. She would put the pot of tea on and they would discuss the classic fairytales and how flimsy the plot hooks and one-dimensional the main characters were.

Those were good times for her. She really felt like she was amongst friends then, or, at least, amongst more genuine beings that back in the City.

But, nothing lasts forever.

Suddenly, the Wolf was murdered by a Huntsman. The Huntsman threw around many vicious accusations for why he did it. She did not believe any of them. The Major did, though, and he got off with little more than a warning. This hurt her deeply and she and the Beast had cried about it together. The Wolf had been a wonderful, wild being.

Then the Three Bears got burgled and decided to move elsewhere to where the crime was less. She did not know where there could be less crime than out here where there were no people. But, they said that after they were burgled and liberties were taken with their most intimate stuff, they no longer felt safe in their own home. Thus, they left too.

Finally, her Beast in his ancient, rundown castle broke his curse and moved back into the City. He did come for a goodbye before then, but it was awkward and it ended. He was moving back into his townhouse in the City and was going to get a job as a teacher. The lady that was now his wife insisted on this, as she was from the City.

She was alone in her Forest again.

Yes, occasionally, someone from the City wandered in. Once it was a girl in a red hood and another time it was a spoilt brother and sister exploring the woods. Once, a rather fanciful long-haired blonde girl even lived with her for a while before her own Prince Charming found her and took her back. That was fine, as she had been quite irritating and rather infatuated with her own looks. What a shallow girl, she had thought as she saw her leaving, bundles of hair wrapped around her.

None of these one-dimensional characters stuck, and she remained alone in her Forest.

***

One morning, she woke up and knew it was time for a change. She packed her bag lightly and put her black dress on. She could not find her walking stick, so she grabbed a broom to help her walk, and she left her home in the Forest. She did not even look back as she left. It was time for a big change.

Her Gift was tingling and she knew she needed to be elsewhere. Besides, the Forest was quite empty these days. The City kept encroaching on it and most of the wonderful animals had all been hunted or moved out by then.

She was going to the desert. She was heading West. That was where the City would never follow her.

While she was walking along, she ran into a rather out-of-place looking girl. The girl had a crazed expression on her face with dilated pupils–perhaps she had been nibbling the mushrooms down by the river a bit too much?–and asked where “Kansas” was.

Of course, she did not know what “Kansas” was and told the girl this. At which the spoilt little brat had giggled, thrown water in her face and run away laughing. How rude!

She was too old to chase after her and give her a spanking. So, she merely flicked an irritated little curse after her. The girl would see the world only in shades of green for quite a while now.  She wondered how that would interact with the girl’s mushroom-fuelled trip? She had a good chuckle to herself and then set off back down the road.

***

It had been many, many years now since she had built her little house in the Desert. She now lay in bed, too frail to stand up. Around her stood her Desert friends and, even, some of the surviving friends from the Forest that made the journey. The Beast came alone–his wife has left him for a Prince Charming–and the Three Bears were there too, softly crying. Morgiana, the poor little slave girl that she had helped set free from Ali Baba, and the Genie, she had also freed from his prison-lamp were there.

She was surrounded by those that loved her and she, in turn, loved back.

But, nothing lasts forever.

Her health was failing. Although those with the Gift lived longer than those without it, no one lives forever. She had already been old when she had moved to the Forest. Now she was ancient and time was running out. Goodbyes were being said through tears and soft sobbing, but she smiled back at all of them. Her life had been lost all those years ago in the City and this rag-tag bunch of outcasts and vilified beings had helped her find her way back to happiness. She owed them far more than they owed her.

She knew she did not have much time. The Gift told her that much. And, so, after the teary goodbyes, she looked around her and cast one last subtle spell.

She did not know when or how it would happen, but one day someone would tell their story. The world would know what wonderful, beautiful and complex beings they all were. They were not villains or plot devices, but complex, living souls with real, feelings and huge, loving hearts. Many of them had suffered tragedies or loss, but they kept going forward as best they could. They were as strong as they were incredible. One day, the world would see all of this. One day, the world would know all of this. One day, the world would love them all the same way that she did. One day, their story would be written.

And then, the Desert was all alone again.

Fantasy

Secret Recipes

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Dark Forest

Deep inside a dark forest, hidden at the end of a secret path lies a little house all covered in ancient vines and cast in the shade of a large mushroom. Inside this mysterious dwelling, lives a little old lady, whose actual age is only known by the stars and things that move without a sound under the moonlight.

There are many candles flickering inside the house. The candles’ sputtering wicks cast dancing shadows all over the eerie interior of the room. A strong, knee-quivering smoke swirls through the air in this dark room, as the little old lady leans menacingly over a large, black pot that is quietly bubbling over smouldering coals.

“And a pinch more of the Tears of the Sea,” she rasps to herself, reaching across the table for some powder that she sprinkles into the cauldron. The cauldron bubbles contentedly in answer to her, its thick smoke swirling from its clinging embrace to dance through the dark room.

She stirs it thrice and leans forward, breathing deeply.

“Aaah, yes,” her cackling continues, “more Dust of the Desert Fire, definitely more Desert Fire…”

She grabs for a blood red powder and casts a healthy spoonful of it into the concoction bubbling just below her warty, wrinkled nose. She stirs the thick goop bubbling there with an ancient old spoon as the red powder becomes part of the mixture.

Suddenly there is a loud knock on her front door, sending candles flickering and shadows dancing across the dark room.

She turns and smiles, though across her wrinkled, aged face it is hard to tell if it is menacing or not. She gives her cauldron a final stir before grabbing an old, gnarled walking stick and hobbling to the door to open it.

On the other side is standing a fair, young lady. Her pale skin emphasises her blue eyes and dark hair, framed by a beautiful, ornate dress and flowing overcoat. She cover eyes as the sharp smoke blows out of the dark room into the night beyond, and she coughs as she breaths some of it in.

The old hag’s face cracks into a smile.

“Come in dear, come in dear,” she cackles, “the curry is almost finished cooking.”