Witching Lessons

Sweet-smelling steam warmed Miranda’s face as she leaned over the cauldron and breathed in. This was a recipe she knew well and practiced often, and hoped it’d please her mentor when she arrived. She stirred the mixture with her wooden spoon, and admired the colorful ingredients as they rose to the surface and plunged back under in the wake. Rose petals, lemon peel, a sprig of sage, a cinnamon stick: Together in the blessed water, they melded into the perfect spell to ward off a cloudy day. She closed her eyes and let the vapors wash over her, bringing an easy smile to her face. Just then, the door opened and Griselda walked in. She stomped her pointed black boots on the door mat and shook out her umbrella.

“I see you’re working the Sunshine Draught again,” she commented, sounding much less pleased than Miranda felt. But the warmth stayed in her soul anyway, making itself at home, settling into her body like a friendly spirit.

“How can you tell?” Miranda asked, smiling.

“There’s a sunbeam shining on this cottage alone. There’s been a rainstorm all day, and the whole town is drenched, but you wouldn’t know it from your front path.”

Miranda giggled, feeling bubbly with self-satisfaction.

“I’ve been practicing,” she admitted gleefully.

“Yes, clearly,” Griselda grumbled as she thumped her canvas tote bag on the cluttered kitchen table and hung her damp cloak on the hooks near the hearth. “And I wouldn’t be so pleased with myself if I were you,” she said, shooting a sharp look at Miranda.

Miranda’s sun-shining attitude persisted, though a growing feeling of gray-colored doubt began to sprout within her.

“Why? I thought you’d be proud of my progress.”

“You’ve been practicing Sunshine Draughts for weeks now. It’s time to move onto something else. Witching isn’t all about sunshine and warmth, I told you that.”

Griselda had a direct way of teaching, and at first, Miranda found her a little frightening. But when she had begun to master a few spells and potions, she felt they had turned a corner; that she could be a successful prodigy to the legendary wise woman of West Wood. If she hadn’t breathed so deeply over her bubbling cauldron, she knew she’d have a sinking feeling in her stomach right now, but her draught-fueled cheerfulness was stubborn. She brushed off the old woman’s negativity, even after her mood seemed to sour even further when Miranda admitted that she hadn’t finished her reading assignment from last week, nor had she stopped by the farmer’s market to pick up fresh ingredients for the next potions she was meant to learn.

Instead, she had spent the week reviewing her first lessons: Fundamentals of Flight, Hearth Fire Spark, and, of course, the Sunshine Draught. These weren’t easy to pick up, and she felt that if she could understand precisely how each ingredient, command and hand motion worked together, she would have a better foundation for her next set of lessons, the ones she’s meant to focus on this fall: Love Spells, Flying Goose High, and Foreseeing the Future. Besides, these next stages made her nervous. Aren’t Love Spells unethical? she wondered; and whenever she thought of Foreseeing the Future, she began playing that song by Doris Day in her head, the words “the future’s not ours to see” running on a loop between her ears. Plus, she was afraid of heights. Hovering over the ground as Griselda watched wasn’t so bad, but the thought of darting up into the clouds and traveling side-by-side with a goose made her stomach do somersaults.

“I brought the other supplies we’d need, but it’s useless now. We can’t Fly Goose High without nutmeg, of course, and you can’t just jump into stirring up Love Spells without reading the lesson first.”

Miranda pictured the rain cloud pouring rain over the rest of West Wood coalescing inside her cottage right now, spinning gray tendrils through Griselda’s wild white curls. As though reading her thoughts, Griselda turned to shoot another glare in her direction.

“Don’t think I can’t see what you visualize, child,” she snapped. “Now, I asked you to read those passages for a reason. We’ll just have to put away these supplies for now and figure out what to do with you today.”

Despite the Sunshine Draught, Miranda’s mood was starting to fall. Enough negativity can wear down even the sunniest dispositions.

“These ingredients work best when they’re fresh, of course, but there will still be energy left in them next week,” the old woman said as she pulled two dead birds from the tote bag, one small and white, and the other, so large that the fact that it had fit inside the tote defied the laws of physics. Miranda grimaced as Griselda held the limp goose by the neck.

“What is that for?” she exclaimed, somewhat involuntarily, pointing at the large bird.

“Flying Goose High, of course. You’d know that if you’d done your reading.”

“How on earth did you get a dead goose?”

Griselda walked to the large freezer drawer, pulling it open and moving already-frozen ingredients to make room for the large avian. A box of varied frog species, sourced from the ponds and rivers in the woods behind the Witch’s Training Cottage, two sleek blue salamanders, frozen cubes of moon water infused with lavender and rosemary for quick healing potions. She handed Miranda an ice cream sandwich; it wasn’t enchanted, but helped when students warmed the cottage up too much with Sunshine Draughts and Hearth Fire Sparks. Miranda accepted the treat and peeled the wrapper back.

“You’ll learn that once you’re ready for that lesson,” Griselda finally replied. She wedged the goose into the drawer, and slid the small, white dove in beside it.

“At least tell me those birds were ethically sourced,” Miranda said, starting to worry.

“Excuse me? When have I ever taught you to do harm in your craft?” Griselda scoffed, offended, then turned back to what was really bothering her. “Have you thought about what too much sunshine can do to you — and to this cottage, for that matter?”

“What’s wrong with sunshine?” Miranda asked, starting to get defensive. “It feels better inside when I can see the rays of light shine through the windows.” She admired the sprays of rainbows sprinkled around the room by the sun-catchers in the windows.

“Rain has its purpose. Wind has its purpose. All things on earth have a purpose, Miranda.” Griselda sighed. It seemed that as the years went by, her new apprentices were less and less in tune with the natural rhythms of life. Each year, her students seemed younger, but could it be that she was getting older?

“Come here, child, I’ll show you what I mean.” Griselda opened the front door again, a lemon-scented ray of sun pouring in through the door. Miranda skipped to catch up as Griselda turned toward the garden.

“Look here at this basil,” she pointed at a plant of weak green leaves. “Look how sad it is. And, think about it: When was the last time you saw an earth worm? They’re hiding beneath this parched dirt. On a day like this, they should be climbing to the surface.” she said, gesturing toward the wall of rain, which started abruptly about 50 yards away from the Training Cottage.

“Can’t I just mix up a Rain Draught to feed the garden?” Miranda asked, starting to feel guilty for not thinking about the long-term effects of her obsession with the Sunshine Draught. Griselda sighed and hung her head.

“Sure, you could, but what about all the plants and creatures in the woods, Miranda? What about the streams and pond, and the algae that grows during hot spells? And besides — do you want to spend your days mixing Rain Draughts to counter the effects of your Sunshine Draughts all fall and all spring? Sometimes I just don’t understand you kids.”

Miranda fell silent.

“Plus, don’t you remember what I told you on your first day? Magic isn’t about what you can make. It’s about what the earth can make. There is power in the natural cycle. Capturing the earth’s processes and making them your own, taking control of the natural cycle of life — that’s not what Witching is for. That’s an abuse of your power. Never forget that, child. When you start creating Sunshine Draughts week after week, through all seasons, when you start to replace natural rain with Rain Draughts just to reverse the damage you’ve done — you’re going to end up with a weaker harvest. You’re going to end up with a magically altered plant, and planet. That doesn’t mean it’s more powerful, quite the contrary. It means it’ll affect your potions in ways you don’t expect.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Miranda said, the draught fully worn off now. Griselda sighed again, shaking her head.

“It’s ok. You live and you learn. Let’s go in.”

The pair rounded the corner, shielding their eyes from the bright sun. The contrast with the gray skies just outside the boundaries of the draught’s power made it seem even brighter, but now Miranda didn’t feel cheerful about it at all.

Inside, Griselda took a heavy book out of her tote bag. “We can at least get started with Foreseeing the Future. Let’s read the lesson together, then get started with the first technique. Take out your book.”

Miranda listened, taking her copy from the tall wooden bookshelf situated behind a large, leather reading chair. She opened to the correct page, but hesitated before really looking at the words.

“What’s wrong now?” Griselda asked, herself breathing in the remnants of the Sunshine Draught in hopes that it’d give her a little patience for Miranda’s questions and quirks.

“It’s just … are we really supposed to read the future? I mean, isn’t that … wrong? Or, I mean … couldn’t that change the future, what’s supposed to happen?”

Griselda shook her head and groaned.

“We’re Witches, for crying out loud, child! Yes, we’re really supposed to read the future. It’s in the job description. Now, begin at the top.”

Miranda began reading aloud from Chapter 4: Preparing to See. The chapter listed the importance of the right setting, the types of materials that can affect the quality of the reading, including moods and mindsets. A reading should only be done in the presence of a non-magical human under very specific circumstances, and using very specific tools: Cards, dice, crystals of various compositions and shapes. Griselda stopped her when she reached the end of the chapter.

“See, child? We practice our craft under very tight rules — that’s how we keep ourselves and others safe.” Miranda nodded, feeling slightly eased by the careful approach she was being taught.

“Now let’s move onto Chapter 5: Tools and Techniques to Foresee the Future Part 1: Witching Utensils.”

The chapter began with a serious disclaimer about who is permitted to use these types of tools and perform these techniques, adhering to the Rules of Setting, described in Chapter 4. Turning the page, Miranda gasped at the gruesome diagram taking up the entirety of page 156: A full-color image of a dissected frog, it’s insides pulled out of its body and carefully placed around its arms, legs, and torso. Its intestines were pulled into a long circle surrounding the body, with its heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, and stomach placed outside the circle.

“Do I actually have to dissect a frog?” Miranda asked, anxiously. “I couldn’t do it in 9th grade biology, ma’am, I fainted right there in class. I spent the hour in the nurse’s office recovering.”

Griselda gazed at Miranda’s paling face, yet again shocked at the difficulty with which she was taking up Witching. Surely, her new apprentice would be able to overcome her earthly troubles and transcend into her power, she used to think. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Are you sure you want to be a Witch? Maybe librarian would suit you better, or a pharmacist. You wouldn’t have to deal with anything creepy or crawly in a library, or at Walgreens,” Griselda said.

Miranda took a sharp breath in. She had always wanted to be a Witch; she came from a long line of Witches. Her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother had said her whole life that she had the gift. When she was a child, she could feel the prickle of magic at her fingertips when she dug in the garden or swam in the stream. When Griselda had accepted her as her next apprentice, it had been the happiest day of her life. All her friends were going away to university, or nursing school, but she hadn’t even applied to a single non-magical college because she was so sure of her destiny.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry, I’m sure I can dissect a frog to Foresee the Future,” Miranda said quickly.

Griselda looked her up and down.

“Good,” she said, reaching into her endless tote once again. “Take this,” she said, handing Miranda a wooden box.

Miranda opened it cautiously, knowing what to expect, but jumping back and slamming it shut at the sight of the slimy dead frog anyway. She took a deep breath. I can do this, she told herself, then opened it again.

“Bring him over here,” Griselda said, setting up a flat wooden plank, just big enough to hold the frog. “Pin him down, hands and feet, just as you see in the diagram.”

Miranda did as she was told. Griselda handed her a small knife, a bone handle and a sharp Damascus blade, swirling lines of dark and light that sparkled in the beam of the lingering Sunshine Draught.

“Just down the middle now,” Griselda said gently. Miranda traced the pale white belly of the frog with the tip of the blade first, then cut in. Instantly, the putrid scent of reptilian guts overpowered the sweet smell of rose petals and lemon and cinnamon. Miranda’s free hand reflexively covered her mouth and nose.

“Keep it together now, child,” Griselda said. “You’ll need both hands for this next step. Now, pin his sides left and right. You want a big cavity for you to reach into.”

Miranda swallowed a groan and steadied herself. She reached in and felt for the heart.

“Now, remember the spell you learned last week. Clear your mind and focus on your Future; remember, this first try, you’re just looking into your own Future. Close your eyes and say the spell now.”

Miranda nodded and inhaled a deep, grounding breath. She focused her mind and soul on herself, releasing her breath only when she felt her whole entity within her body, and prepared to say the spell.

“Oh, Frog of Future Telling, Thank You For Your Heart, For It Shall Tell Me The Truth of What’s to Come, That I Might Prepare Myself and Greet My Destiny Without Prejudice, With Pure Intentions. Frog of Future Telling, Thank You For Your Heart, That it Shall Now Show Me What to Foresee.”

Griselda nodded, impressed Miranda was able to remember the words when she was so clearly distraught by the dissection. With eyes still closed, Miranda stood motionless as her vision began to enlighten, sparkling swirls of golden purple edging her sight, her own face coming into view. She stood behind a wooden desk; a high bookshelf towered above her head. She was handing a small glass vial, filled with swirling pink gas, to a stranger, a woman taking it shyly and slipping the vial into her jacket pocket. The stranger thanked her and walked away, the ding of a bell sounding a moment later as she exited the room. The vision faded, the swirling golden purple overtaking the image, then fading to black, the back of her own eyelids.

Slowly, Miranda opened her eyes and looked at Griselda. Her mentor stood smiling with pride.

“What did you see?”

“I … was a Witch. I had my own shop. I sold … a Love Potion.”