Look Homeward, Witch

“Good evening, sister. And where is our little Ravelil?” Luella sipped more tea and looked around for their niece. Hmph. Just like her to miss the evening restorative. The girl has become a leetle self-centered.

“The devil only knows. Her car is here. Maybe she’s sleeping,” Jeruda said. She went to the window and pulled the thick curtains closed. The sun was still up and it didn’t do to let too much sun touch their delicate, ochre skin. The witches that did that wound up with skin that looked like the skin of mortals.

The incorrigible Ravelil had skin like the mortals. She went to parks during daylight hours. She drove a car. She went to college! Mortal college!

At this moment, a voice came from the basement.

“Aunties! Join me in the basement! I have a surprise for you!” Ravelil’s strong, clear voice raced through the house and struck the 500-year-old eardrums of her aunts. They looked at each other, worry on their faces.

“What in the hell is that girl up to, sister?”

“Don’t have a clue, sister. Shall we?”

Jeruda and Luella made their way, albeit slowly, to the basement. The scene confirmed one of their worst fears. Ravelil was casting an unauthorized spell.

“Ravelil! What are you up to, besides no good?” Jeruda spoke sharply.

Ravelil stared at her aunts, a small smirk on her lips. The aunts had to be taught a lesson. It was a new world, a modern world that she lived in, and the old ways just wouldn’t cut it.

The niece began her incantation, her voice rising with each line. The Latin words soared and swooped over the aunts, pulling them towards Ravelil. They could not intervene while she spoke, though. It’s a witch thing, you see.

Ravelil picked up a steaming goblet and drank the contents quickly and fully. She slammed the goblet on the table in front of her, looked up at her aunts, and smiled a smile that promised nothing good.

“What have you done, girl?” Luella spoke with a sharpness that surprised Jeruda and Ravelil. Luella was the calm one, the aunt who never raised her voice, the aunt who forgave Ravelil her indiscretions with a smile and a gentle remonstration.

Ravelil blinked, and then she spoke, but not as forcefully or as confidently as she had imagined. Still, she had done what she had done with no regrets. Yet.

“A spell. A terrific spell. You’ll see what a young witch can do, aunties.”

What happened next, though, wasn’t what Ravelil expected. Not even close.

**************

The basement started to get bigger. The table now rose above Ravelil like a giant monolithic structure, the goblet so large as to resemble a water tower. Her aunts had also assumed gigantic proportions, staring down at her with sad expressions and knowing nods of the head.

Ravelil turned and looked at a mirror resting against a wall. What she saw horrified her.

She was a toad.

“Croak!”

“Yes, dear. You are a toad. A fine-looking toad, wouldn’t you agree, sister?”

“Oh yes. Indeed. But just a leetle put out, I’d say.”

“Ribbit! Ribbit ribbit. Croak!”

“But it did work, dear. We know that spell quite well, being master witches.”

“Croak. Croak ribbit croak.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been messing around with spells, dear. You’re only 103 years old. And you haven’t been given any formal training.”

“So true, sister. Too young to cast spells. Too impulsive and, dare I say, a leetle vindictive.”

“Croak croak ribbit.”

“Yes it did, sweetie. You wanted to reduce your enemies to a status that befitted their lot in life, according to your perceptions. The thing is…” Luella searched for words that wouldn’t hurt dear Ravelil so much.

“You’re the enemy. Plain and simple. You’re the only enemy you have,” Jeruda said flatly.

“Sister! So harsh. Perhaps a nice meal for all of us, yes?”

Jeruda considered this. A nice slice of dragon-tongue pie sounded good.

“Croak!”

“Yes, yes. We’ll get you some flies. Maybe a fat worm or two. Things will look better after you’ve eaten, dear.”

Luella picked up her unfortunate niece and carried her upstairs, setting her down on the table and peering at her through her spectacles. Hmmm. A horned toad. Worse than I thought.

Jeruda walked outside and snapped her fingers. Instantly, several flies died and landed on the doorstep. Bending down with a grunt, Jeruda gathered them up and put them on a tea saucer before placing the repast in front of her niece.

Luella had busied herself by turning on the oven and sliding the pie inside. All it took was a wave of the hand and a little guidance to accomplish this. Both aunts sat down and stared at Ravelil while waiting for the tongue to heat properly. Cold dragon tongue was the pits.

“Ribbit ribbit. Croak croak. Ribbit croak ribbit.”

“It’s all very well to blame us, but the fault lies with you, dear. True, we deeded one-third of the property to you, which was probably a mistake. You’d have no power without owning land. But we love you and wanted you to feel like an equal partner here.”

“Croak croak croak croak!”

“There is no spell to reverse this spell. But there is hope.”

“Ribbit?”

“Once you learn to not be your own enemy then you will return to what you once were. Of course, you may never learn that. Remember Sage’s daughter, sister? She did the same thing and she’s still a frog. What has it been, twenty years?”

“Closer to thirty, sister.”

Luella let out a tsk tsk.

“Well, she’s stubborn. But Sage feeds her well, so if she does come around, she’ll be nice and plump.”

“She always was a glutton, sister. That kid could eat an entire viper and still ask for more.”

“Croak! Ribbit! Croak croak?”

“Beats me, Ravelil. I suppose you’ll have to search your heart and figure out why you hate yourself so much. Never had that problem myself. I was born a witch and I accepted it.”

“Mother was always very conscientious about that, sister. I remember when she locked you up in the dungeon for five years because you kissed a mortal.”

“Well, that was the right thing to do to me, sister.”

“And all you ate was rats.”

“That’s good eatin’, sister, but I craved me some snails and snake eyes.”

“Ribbit ribbit!”

“We’ll take good care of you, Rave. Just be a leetle patient, though. Spells don’t care what you think. They care what you say and how you say it. It takes time to undo a spell on yourself.”

“Ribbit?”

“Extremely powerful. That’s why there’s no counter-spell. Jeruda told you to search within your heart and she’s right. It’s the only way.”

“Croak croak?”

“No. Never seen this one undone. We just know that it can be undone. Theoretically.”

“Croak.”

**************

THREE YEARS LATER

Ravelil was a little pale, a little wan, but she was a witch again, and that’s all that mattered for the moment. Luella was pleased to see that Ravelil’s yellow tint had returned. Jeruda was pleased that Ravelil hadn’t said much.

“You look good, dearie. Like your old self, I must say. And such lovely skin! Just a leetle skinny, though.”

Ravelil looked at Luella and smiled slightly.

“Got tired of the diet. Flies and worms get old after a while.”

“We should have given her a spider every once in a while, sister.”

“She got what she got,” Jeruda said.

“Thank you, aunties.”

The sisters looked at each other with quizzical expressions.

“For what?”

“You told me how to undo the spell, so I did. Took me three years to do it, but now I’m what I’m supposed to be again. So thank you.”

Jeruda gave her niece a long, appraising stare. Luella laughed and clapped her hands before hugging her niece.

“What shall we do, sister? Have a party! Everyone will be so happy to see you returned to form, my dear. We can have nightshade cocktails and snakeroot canapés. Oh, all sorts of delectables. Maybe even…”

“I don’t want a party, auntie. I am contrite and grateful, so let’s leave it at that. Please.”

The aunts made no attempt to hide their surprise. This was not the Ravelil that deigned to sleep with mortals and snorted their white powder.

“So…” Luella was at a loss as to what to do. She was mildly disappointed that there would be no party, for she was a social witch. Hobnobbing with other witches and snickering at the warlocks was great fun.

“I think I need to go to my room and ponder, aunties. I have a lot to think about,” Ravelil said. She took the stairs slowly. She felt old, though she was only 106.

**************

100 YEARS LATER

“So proud of you, dearie! A master witch and you’re only 206 years old! I’m just a leetle jealous of you, Ravelil. Took me almost 500 years to do what you did,” Luella gushed.

Luella hadn’t lost her love of parties over the past century, and she reveled in meeting old friends and making new ones. Sage’s daughter had just returned to her witch form and everyone exclaimed how good she looked now.

Jeruda hugged her niece, beaming at her. She never thought that she’d live to see the day that her niece would become a paragon of witch society. The girl had been so rebellious when she was younger, she thought, but it all worked out well. Training. We trained her well. And the toad incident didn’t hurt her any.

“You never hug me, auntie. Are you really proud of me?” Ravelil said. Her regal posture and genuine smile attracted everyone. She’s a powerful one, they all commented.

“Of course, dear. You come from fine blood, you know. And a master witch at 206 is almost unheard of.”

Ravelil nodded and smiled at her aunt, kissing her on the cheek. Jeruda had the good grace to blush and wave it off.

“Everyone’s having a good time, sister. Some are just a leetle greedy with the dragonskin chip and dip. Might need some more. Shall I get it, or…”

“I’ll get it,” Ravelil said, striding off to the kitchen. Jeruda watched her go and then followed her.

“I see you still like sleeping with mortals, dear. As a master witch now, you might want to consider your actions,” Jeruda said. Her words held a sharp edge to them, though not as sharp as they did the previous century. Ravelil had proven her worth to the community. She was an equal now.

Ravelil smiled slightly. Auntie Jeruda would always be what she was: a fiercely protective aunt with a no-nonsense way about her.

“Yes. I like mortals, auntie. The difference is that I don’t want to be like them any longer. I may even marry one of them some fine day,” Ravelil said. She pretended not to notice her aunt’s shocked expression, busying herself with putting together an eyeball salad.

“I know you, Rave. Who is this mortal that you like so much?”

Ravelil busied herself with the salad. Desiccated eyeballs. Just like that slattern, Grace.

“Just a man, auntie. But he’s a fan of Wolfe.”

Jeruda looked at Ravelil with surprise.

“A mortal that likes wolves? That doesn’t seem right.”

Ravelil let out a small chuckle.

“Wolfe. Thomas Wolfe. A writer.”

Jeruda scoffed. The writings of mortals was of no concern to her, nor should it be of any concern to Ravelil. All noise and tempests with no meaning.

“Anyway, we have to better ourselves. The American dream, right?”

Jeruda spat on the floor.

“The American dream indeed! What does that mean to us?”

“Nothing. That’s the point. But it should, auntie. They lost sight of it but we can claim it.”

Jeruda said nothing for there was nothing to say to such nonsense. Witches are witches. Mortals are mortals. That’s the end of it.

“Take the salad out, Rave. And quit talking nonsense. You’ll scare them,” Jeruda waved a hand towards the crowd.

“And he gives the kids lots of fabulous candy on this night every year.”

“Mmm.”

“You can always trust a man who gives out candy to kids, auntie.”

Luella hurried toward the pair and took the bowl of salad from Ravelil. Her eyes flickered in disappointment at the quality of the eyeballs but she was far too nice to say anything about it. She helped herself to a small serving but didn’t finish it. If she had it in her, she would have thought bad things about Grace, the purveyor of inferior eyeballs.

The party lasted until the rays of the morning light became too evident to ignore. Everyone trooped off to their own houses to sleep away the morning and to digest the rich food they had all eaten.

Luella and Jeruda were two who did this, but Ravelil stayed up, sitting at a window and thinking her own thoughts. They involved a beautiful mortal and various scenarios in the bedroom.

She would marry this mortal. He would die and she would marry another mortal, and then another. Her eyelids drooped at these soothing thoughts, and soon she was asleep with dreams of dead husbands and mortal funerals dancing pleasantly through her head.

It was going to be a fabulous millennium.