I picked up the hideous pointed hat and attempted to tie it around my head. These hats always gave me trouble in tying them. I looked at my appearance that glanced back at me from the mirror like a disgusting old tree with its branches drooping down- the way my envy-colored hat drooped around my head. Why do they still make these old-fashioned pointy things? Fashion has evolved a great extent in the recent years and maybe it would do the witches some good if they started to adopt that culture. At least then I could be rid of the ugly hats for eternity.
I mounted the old dusty broom and took off in the midnight sky. Contrary to the clichéd beliefs by ordinary people that there are magical brooms, the real magic isn’t in the broom but in our own selves. We witches infuse the broom with our magic and then use the windy air to push forward and navigate our brooms. The hairs at the back of the broom make it easier to navigate our way and control the broom. Tonight it was windy and the soft breezes playing with my hair allowed me to ride on the broom to my destination.
The wisp of the lights coming from the hollow and the smell of dry leaves fused with the scent of old spell books diverted my attention to the witches’ lair. It was adorned with special decorations for tonight’s event. Different shades of lights were bewitched to shine all around the place as though representing the diverse range of witches gathered together on this special occasion of Halloween. The lights are not a creation of magic however. It’s just some of those modern laser beams or LED lights, whatever they are. Seems like the witches are becoming sloppy in their magic these days. And they also decided to add a dramatic touch to the evening by decorating the hollow with golden cauldrons which were filled with bubbling green liquid. There were even a few pumpkins carved out and displayed in the hollow for this awful night.
After what seemed like an eternity of aimless chatter with my fellow witches, I finally let out a sigh of relief at being let all by myself again.
“You look like you are about to die from too much social interaction,” the stranger chuckled. It was a most sweet voice, one that tastes like strawberries and chocolate. There was confidence in that voice but I could hear a hint of anxiety too.
“Yet here you are, trying to make conversation,” I replied.
Turning my head around, I looked at the owner of that strange voice. She was a young maiden, around the age of sixteen. Her eyes were blue like the breezes that flow through your hair, but they contained a fierceness of the storms that make you feel alive. Her hair had a shade of a brunette and there was the essence of nature in its curls. There was innocence in her soul and fire in her eyes. She was sunshine and roses, the kind that could burn you in a beautiful way.
“I hate Halloween,” the girl sighed.
“The witches have gone extra creative this Halloween,” I added to her statement, referring to the extravagant decorations of green cauldrons and carved pumpkins.
“Such a cliché. We have hardly any portions that are green in color but I guess they wanted to adapt the ordinary man’s imagination.”
“Maybe next Halloween, they’ll start living with those awful humans.”
She chuckled at my reply. A cool silence enveloped around us that made my skin tickle like walking through a grass field. But the silence wasn’t awkward, on the other hand, it felt peaceful, like the eye of a storm, the center so calm but surrounded but chaos on all sides.
“Why are you here, Sasha?” she broke the silence with her intrigue. I wondered how she knew my name but then again, she is a strange girl.
“Because it’s Halloween and we have a witches’ gathering each year on this day,” I replied with confusion.
“I meant it like why are you here? You are clearly not interested in Halloween nor do you like the silly traditions of the witches.”
She had stated an accurate point. Why was I really here? Was I interested in Halloween? No, definitely not. Did I have any social obligations to be here? I would consider not since half the people here don’t care whether I am here or not and the other half don’t even know me and I never participate in any of the rituals performed here. I am unable to find an answer to her question.
“I never come to these gatherings but today there was something different in the direction of the wind and following it brought me to you,” she said in response to my silence.
“What is your name?”
“Does it matter? I am the reflection that stares back at you from the murky waters, the dreams that you wish were real, the blue of the oceans and the green of the leaves. I am the freedom that you yearn to have and the confidence that you have buried deep inside. I am you, Sasha, and I am everything you want.”
I am left in awe at her answer. She is something different. With her introspection and unique thoughts, she was made Halloween, the event that I dread the most during the year, an enjoyable holiday for me.
“Do you ever wonder why we have to wear a pointed hat?” she contemplated.
“I absolutely detest these hats,” I reply with disgust.
“We wear them because they are pointed upwards towards the sky and the stars, the celestial beings from which we draw a major amount of energy.”
This beautiful stranger has managed to make me more and more fascinated with every sentence that she speaks.
“I think it’s time for me to take leave now,” she declares. We bid farewell to each other and I can feel emptiness in my soul as we part. And that’s when I realize that I never even got to know her name.
“At least tell me your name before leaving,” I desperately cried to her.
“Sunshine and roses, isn’t that what you described me as?”
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