The Witch and the Never-Ending Need to Communicate

Argie always found books easier than people. They spoke whatever language she felt for the day; poetry, thriller, nonfiction. She was a witch who could convey her emotions to others without uttering a single word, easily manipulating light that people recognized as her feelings.

While she preferred to keep quiet and let her power replace her voice—to the point where moving towns meant no one knew her name—those emotions were never truly understood. Others would nod and smile when Argie let off a flurry of her thoughts put into tangible lights, but she could tell they never really understood. She couldn’t place proper orders, as emotions didn’t tell merchants to hold the milk. The closest she came to speaking was when she gave sweets to a fishfolk named Enyna. It was meant to act as thanks for rescuing her unsupervised book when a gust of wind nearly took it.

The misunderstandings were what pushed her to literature in the first place, fueled her purchase of an old shop, and made her start writing. She conducted great works of fiction, kept them tucked in her office to write in when she needed someone to talk to. The hidden collection of books had been fiction for some time, though reflective of what Argie wished to say. This trend did not leave her in adulthood, but the line between her fiction blurred until it shattered completely.

The one person Argie would interact with the most was Shaukil, a mousekin who came into town once a month hauling a cartload of books, and enjoyed hiking up her prices. Breakwind was a small coastal town, and Argie couldn’t get her books anywhere else, so she couldn’t say no to the price or Shaukil would turn to leave with every one of those books. Argie barely spoke to Shaukil, never mind haggled, so she would normally keep her mouth shut and her coin pouch open.

Handing over thirty gold for the smallest cart of books was the last straw for Argie.

Money troubles were nothing new, but now she had someone to blame it on. Her quill moved over smooth paper, scarlet light filling her space as she penned a story of a greedy seller who lost their suppliers across three kingdoms from their poor business practices. She got lost in the process of writing, however, and the red cooled into the calming color of oysters.

It started as Argie venting to her paper, but by the end, she was laughing at the absurd story she was letting fly from the end of her quill.

By the time next month’s shipment was set to arrive, Argie had forgotten all about her self-indulgence among her papers. She stood outside of her shop, listening to the elves opening the Bread & Butter bakery across the street. Soon a crowd was forming around the shop, and Argie had to step into her bookstore to open and serve customers after an hour passed without Shaukil present. Her book dealer had never been late before.

It was six hours past their usual meeting time when the bell to her shop rang, and at the door was Shaukil. She was panting, holding three books in her paws. Despite her dislike of the mousekin’s practices, Argie still offered Shaukil water and took the books, letting the light around her fade into a deep iris color to show her concern.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Shaukil snipped, drinking down water. “This is all I’ve got and all I’m gonna have for a while. Somethin’ happened, and no one’s sellin’ right now I s’pose…”

Argie kept up appearances for the visit, frowning and nodding her head as she listened to her book dealer’s complaints. She paid for the grossly overpriced books and waved as Shaukil left. Later that night, when she was going through her stories, it clicked how similar the mousekin’s blight was to her conjured story, and it inspired a new end for her little fictional merchant.

The story was not supposed to be finished, but Argie wrote about the seller again. She felt generous with a happy ending, giving her little merchant the opportunity to get back their suppliers if they gave free stock to their buyers.

Argie was satisfied with her ending, until Shaukil appeared the next month with another cart of books, claiming Argie could have them for free.

“Take it, take it!” The mousekin was already unloading armfuls of books despite the light around Argie flashed iris and jade to show her uncertain concerns. “I realize I’ve been high-ballin’ ya. Ya don’t deserve that. Lemme just get them in!”

No matter how many dark and somber colors flashed around Argie, the book dealer only left when her cart was empty. On her way out, Shaukil stuck up her nose at Argie holding her coin pouch out when just two months ago she was scamming Argie for every gold piece she could get.

It didn’t take long for Argie to connect Shaukil’s behavior to her writings. She read them again, and while not everything was the same, it was as if her writing had been woven into reality. Outside of teachings, witches could naturally attain more powers. Argie was a young adult now, and she tried to calm herself into thinking this was simply her new power manifesting itself. New magic was always good for witches, right?

She had to test it.

Argie’s test wasn’t malicious. She never opened on Vecsday, and that morning off she headed for the bakery bright and early. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and piping cinnamon ciders. Coming up to the front counter, Argie flashed saffron in greeting, making the man behind the counter—Darr—give that wide customer-service smile.

“Hello, Argie,” Darr instinctively said Argie’s name, despite never having learned it. Argie beamed at the stunned look on Darr’s face. “Your name is Argie…right?”

Argie nodded, and the elf behind the counter shook himself off. “Welcome back, Argie. I must’ve caught your name going by your shop, or something. You do come in every Vecsday. But for some reason I’m- huh,” Darr stood behind the counter for a moment, “I have a feeling you don’t want your regular. You want- hm, half a dozen braided sugar bread and a cinnamon cider with apple chunks, caramel drizzling, whip, and extra cinnamon sticks?”

While Argie nodded, Darr’s chest heaved after the order was done. “Lucky guess?”

For the first time since moving to Breakwind, Argie left the Bread & Butter with an order she liked, instead of what she could point to on their chalkboard.

Argie quickly filled pages with the small things. Everyone in town knew her name by the end of the week, and she would happily greet them with nods and flashes of saffron, no speaking required. She no longer struggled to shop. She was understood better, and still she never needed to speak a word.

Her power of the quill had been for small communication hurdles, but she was never great when regulating power. She stood on the high grass by the coast a month after the discovery of her newfound power, watching the dockworkers unloading their newest shipment. Her eyes were on the familiar sight of blue scales and webbed fingers that easily lifted box after box of fresh catches from a fishing boat to the dock. The owner of those scales and webbings was Enyna herself, and Argie’s heart beat in her ears at the sight alone.

Argie thought of the fishfolk woman often after their first encounter, but could never find a way to cultivate another natural interaction.

Now it didn’t have to be natural.

When Enyna’s eyes landed on Argie’s, her legs acted despite her body. The fishfolk moved from her post on the dock, despite the boat only being half unloaded.

“Hey,” came a voice Argie hadn’t heard in months, accompanied by a toothy grin, “I remember you. You brought me sweets a long time ago. I’d always meant to ask, but you wouldn’t enjoy a good cup of cider with company, by chance? Maybe sometime tomorrow night?”

Neon green light flashed from Argie’s skin, and it was a date.

Argie didn’t consider the date manipulative. If she didn't mind using her voice, she would’ve asked for one, anyway. And it weren’t as though she manipulated Enyna’s feelings, all she wrote was that the fishfolk by the docks would ask for her company, and they would share a pleasant time. Pleasant times didn’t have to mean anything more.

She would have left it alone, but one day without talking to Enyna turned to four. She wrote another story about a fishfolk and a witch sharing cider over a book, then another about long walks through the sands. Argie didn’t write about how Enyna would feel, or how she herself would feel.

Argie enjoyed hearing about Enyna’s life before Breakwind. Argie felt like she was experiencing the world beyond her orders being understood and being able to purchase her books at affordable prices.

After half a year of this, letting herself be understood past the emotions that she would flash in people’s directions. Now she didn’t even have to do that much. And still, she wasn’t feeling understood. People knew more; her name and her orders, but she still hadn’t been seen. It only took six months for her to return to books, indulging in fiction once more to let herself be heard.

She wrote about a sailor lost at sea, battling through storms and coups, but the ultimate reason for her ship sinking was her own self-reliance. It wasn’t different from her other books.

The next morning, she followed a crowd to see boards washing up on Breakwind’s shores and the corpse of a ship filling the distant horizon.

Argie ran to her library from the shore as fast as she could. She dove into her books, her arms refusing to still as she dug through pages and pulled out her story from the night before. She held them over a candle in her room, hoping to burn away the sight.

The ship was still there the next day, but the reports of a crew on board were new.

It was all anyone could talk about. Argie refused to go to the docks anymore, thanks to the whispers about the crashed ship. Argie hadn’t based the story off anyone, not intentionally. She tried again, taking the story elsewhere. She wrote about a snowy town that relied on hot chocolates for warmth, and the next day it was snowing. Breakwind never snowed, but that didn’t stop the Bread & Butter from adding hot chocolate to their menu.

Argie was afraid to touch her quill. Her comfort of pages and ink now bled from the page and into the real world. It took one extra power, and her safe space had been swept out from underneath her. She was too scared to write away the snow. Though her stories hadn’t seemed to come with a cruel twist, her fingers still shook at the thought of returning to her shattered comfort.

Walks were marked by the biting cold of snow and quiet voices that followed Argie with each step. She could imagine everyone whispering about her, that the witch must have done something. Even when she was greeted in the Bread & Butter, her teeth found the inside of her cheeks as she saw the new addition to the menu. Leaving her bookstore became too much, and she kept the space devoid of customers.

The worst part was Enyna. The fishfolk made an appearance at her library regularly, leaving behind buns and pastries when Argie wouldn’t answer the door. Everything they had been a figment of Argie’s wishes, and Enyna was still visiting. It was driving Argie to unexplainable madness, and all she wanted was the truth.

Argie knew how to get it.

Real names never appeared in Argie’s writing, but pulling out her forgotten supplies, it seemed right. She didn’t write much, all it took was a sentence;

Everyone will tell Argie the truth.

Argie stood outside of her shop, letting the snow hit her thick scarf and padded cloak as she watched Shaukil struggling with her cart. A tarp covered the leatherbacks, protecting them from the snow. They traded goods for services, and their interaction seemed just as it had been for months.

Argie was counting out her coins when she heard the whisper from the mousekin, so soft she could’ve mistaken it for the cold wind, “I found it easy to scam ya’, cuz you’d never argue. Kept my pockets nice an’ full.”

Shaukil took the coins from Argie’s hands and hauled off her cart like she said nothing at all. Argie stood, jaw hanging open, catching falling snowflakes. She demanded the truth, and it seemed there was still nothing twisting her writing.

The short distance from her shop to the Bread & Butter was filled with these whispers. A passing woman muttered, “I always thought the charms on your glasses were darlin’.”

Entering the bakery, multiple tables turned toward her direction. The voices were quiet, but came all at once. There were more compliments than she expected; about her fashion, about her shop. She heard one whisper that he loved the book she recommended him. The most prominent phrase, however, was ‘I don’t know you.’ It was repeated over and over; ‘I know everyone in this town, but not you.’

Darr had on his signature over-exagerated smile, happy to serve as though the bakery hadn’t turned hushed and all eyes weren’t on them. “I always felt bad serving you,” his words slipped out easily as she walked up to the counter, “I felt like I never knew what you wanted, and always worried you silently took whatever I handed you.”

Argie took her hot chocolate to the coast. The stares and voices followed her like the new wind, and the only silence Argie found was watching the docks from what used to be the sand. Boats didn’t leave with the new ice sheet on the coastline, but the fishers were getting creative with snow shoes and fishing holes. She saw Enyna, but didn’t have to catch her attention. They made eye-contact, and the fishfolk was abandoning her catches in order to make her way over.

“I was worried about you.” Argie’s heart swelled at the words, and she was prepared to be crushed. “These last few months have been confusing. You’ve been great to talk to, and I love having you as a friend, but I don’t know if you feel the same. I’ve told you all about myself, but you feel so closed-off. I always feel like I’m saying the wrong things to you. I just never know.”

The wind was loud. Argie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like trying to find air. It was too late, however, as Enyna turned back for the docks as if suddenly remembering she was working. Argie watched for a time, seeing fish hauled from the ice to baskets.

That night, Argie’s room seemed quieter than ever. Her quill was in her hands, ink leaking onto blank pages from the time passed in stillness. She had to fix everything, but what story could she fabricate to make herself open and honest, to allow people into the deepest, darkest parts of herself? She couldn’t write such a story in a night, and she would never think of the perfect ending in her lifetime.

Instead, she wrote about a town rocked by a ship crash and a snowstorm. She wrote about a witch’s slow descent into the disasters, about the changes in people and how they perceived her. She wrote about a witch who found the strength to write away her protection, to lift the storm and clear the beaches, and wrote a way to find strength to make herself understood.

That Vecsday, Argie spent a long time with her quill. She stuck a letter in her mailbox addressed to Shaukil stating she was happy for the business they had found together, but she was moving onto a new business partner.

The streets were wet with melting snow, but Argie still made her way to the Bread & Butter. Darr didn’t have time to show his teeth before Argie placed a piece of paper down on the counter.

“A dozen strawberry cream cheese puff pastries and a hot chocolate with pumpkin spice, vanilla, almonds, whip cream, and peppermint sticks?” Darr looked up from the paper in front of him, his eyebrows knit together. “This is your order?”

Argie nodded and caught the first real smile she had ever seen from Darr.

The fishers had started stabbing harpoons into the ice, using the revealed sun to help break it up and melt it faster. Argie watched them from the wet sand, sipping on her hot chocolate and holding the pastries by her side. Eventually, the fishfolk found her, making her way over to stand in silence. Argie handed the bag of pastries to Enyna. The light around her changed to saffron.

“Hi to you too,” Enyna replied, taking the bag from Argie and looking through the paper. Argie could see her holding back from stuffing a few of the pastries in her mouth. “These for me? Thank you, I’m starved.”

“You’re welcome.”

Enyna’s hand froze, half-stuffed into the bag. They stared at each other for a long time, and Argie could see a rainbow of emotions pass over Enyna’s eyes, but couldn’t place a single one. She swallowed, but pushed her strained voice to speak. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah- yeah.” Enyna lowered the bag now, her attention all on Argie. “What did you want to talk about?”

Argie was surprised she found it in herself to keep breathing. The world felt so small, but now she could see doorways and passages opening in front of her.

“I don’t know,” Argie managed, “anything.”