THE COVEN QUEEN

THE COVEN QUEEN

The black cat led the way.

Scared out of his wits Timothy Shaw followed it down the lonely and deserted street. It was almost midnight but it wasn’t the darkness that frightened him at this hour. It was the feline he was following. Moments ago it had been Mrs Bale.

As she’d requested he’d come to her house upon her insistence she’d something of immense importance she needed his assistance with. Being a close friend of his mother Timothy had obliged. What had however struck him as odd was Mrs Bale’s stern warning he not tell his mother of it.

Timothy visited his mum two days afterwards and as much as he wanted to shed light on Mrs Bale’s seemingly secret assignment he opted not to. His mother kind of suspected he had something on his mind. When she’d enquired about it however Timothy dismissed it as nothing important. He looked at the photo portraits of his late brothers and father that day. He was the youngest, and their pictures gave him a sickly feeling he was next. He felt he was living on borrowed time.

He empathized with his mother’s grief, living with the memory of her six dead sons. Each had in turn mysteriously died of some unknown medical science defying ailment. It was even rumoured the Shaw family was cursed.

Timothy had a feeling whatever was responsible for the deaths stemmed from his father’s lineage since the incidences had begun with his old man. He loved his mother so much and didn’t want to see her grieve anymore, but he didn’t know if there was anything that could be done about it.

Among the photo portraits he also remembered seeing that day was one of his mother and her good friend Mrs Bale. The picture had been taken at the local church where they both were senior members and even group leaders. They’d always had a strange yet unique bond as Timothy recalled, hence his bewilderment regarding the stern warning she’d given him. Despite the confliction he felt he’d heeded.

At a quarter to midnight Mrs Bale had led Timothy from her home. Down her street and in the light from the street lamps she’d shrivelled into the unexpected. Timothy almost shrieked in fear but was immediately silenced by the black feline she’d become with eyes that pierced the darkness of its black veil of a face.

“If you’re sure you want to live and not end up like your brothers and father…” it then told him “… follow me”

Timothy Shaw was literally blown away by the experience of a talking cat.

“Mrs Bale is a witch?!” he thought with alarm “No wonder she didn’t want me telling mum anything”

           He then became concerned his mother probably was clueless about her good friend’s secret and the potential danger this posed. If there was one thing he was certain of he didn’t want to die like his brothers. He especially didn’t want his loving mother to grieve anymore, not to mention becoming bereaved of all her children. Shortly after they left the street and began heading into the woods and before he knew it they were both spirited away in the form of a dust-devil by something the black cat had whispered.

           Together they appeared in what Timothy could only guess was a coven. It looked archaic yet grand, but not sinister in any way. It was more like some medieval monastery during the dark ages and there were candles lit all about the place. He could only assume it had been around for that long, and this set him thinking. Evidently he and Mrs Bale were the first to arrive. He checked the time on his wristwatch which read 11.57 pm; ‘Witching Hour’ was upon them.

           Before he could take in much more of the coven’s interior architecture he saw Mrs Bale shed her feline form. She didn’t however fully revert to her human one either. She took on that of a hideous witch that further petrified him. Fortunately, he could still recognise some aspects of her facial features amidst the grotesque image before him; her voice had changed too.

He could tell there was a sense of urgency about her as she hurriedly ushered him beneath a huge seat at the head of the hall they were in. She conjured it off the floor with a wave of her hand and the muttering of a spell, and subsequently brought it over him in like manner once he was beneath it. Before being completely hidden she gave him another stern warning.

“Not a sound, no matter what you see” she said threateningly “.. else you’ll die here tonight”

           Timothy believed her; why wouldn’t he? To begin with he’d no idea where they were and she was his only means of returning to both humanity and sanity it seemed. Once covered by the huge seat he figured it was a throne of some sort. Then, just as he as pondering how he could possibly see anything in the darkness he found himself in he saw tiny rays of light. It came through a small aperture in the throne’s side. From it he could see the entire coven hall.

           From the darkness of his hiding place Timothy heard a grandfather clock chime twelve times. It sounded like a very old grandfather clock, like something from one of those 1950’s and 60’s horror movies.

“Speaking of horror movies” he thought “… I’m in one”

           No sooner had the twelfth chime ended when the witches began arriving. Just as he and Mrs Bale had arrived so did they. Each witch dressed like ordinary townsfolk materialized from greyish dust-devils that appeared from out of nowhere; each as ugly as Mrs Bale herself. As Timothy witnessed their arrivals he noticed he couldn’t find Mrs Bale anymore.

           He then heard her croaking voice when she addressed the gathering now almost complete. It came from above him for she was seated on the throne. The realization his mother’s dear friend was Coven Queen left him dumbfounded, but this was nothing compared to what he’d see next. The last witch to arrive and materialize from her dust-devil was his beloved mother. Timothy Shaw nearly died from the shock of it; a lone tear crept slowly down the side of his face as he looked on in horror. He remembered the warning he’d received prior to being concealed and kept mute; his life depended on it.

           That night’s Congress of Darkness thus began.

           Many topics were discussed, numerous cases were brought for deliberation and countless victims were marked for evil assignments. Throughout it all Timothy had a clear line of view enabling him a good look at what he was still refusing to come to terms with. During his observation he noticed about his mother’s neck a necklace of miniature human skulls; there were seven of them. Coincidentally there’d been seven mysterious deaths in his family. The next peculiar yet morbid thing he noted struck him like a knife to the heart. Space had been provided on the necklace of skulls for an eighth. As he realized who’s that skull was to be his mother suddenly felt very disturbed.

           She stood up from her seat to the right of the throne and looked about the coven as though searching for an intruder. Timothy saw this and almost peed himself. The Coven Queen knew exactly what was happening and cautioned Mrs Shaw’s suspicion with the perfect distraction.

“It’s not your turn to speak Garella!” she bellowed “Why stand you?”

           A blanket of silence swept over the gathering. Apparently, Timothy’s mother’s coven name was Garella. Garella however couldn’t provide an answer that wouldn’t draw ridicule. With all eyes focused on her she slowly sat back down after duly apologizing to the queen and those present. She then as her instincts led her turned her attention to the throne. She scrutinized it carefully, focusing her attention from where she sat on the exact spot where the little aperture it had was. This made Timothy draw further back into the recesses of the darkness his confines would permit.

           Alert to the danger this posed Mrs Bale caused yet another timely distraction.

“When are we to expect the sacrifice of your last son?” she then asked Garella 

           This stunned Mrs Shaw. She felt it was no coincidence the Coven Queen had broached a topic not tabled for discussion that night. It was equally suspicious she mentioned her surviving child when her discernment of a strange presence at the gathering was leading to the same person. She thus didn’t quite know how to respond to it at first given its suddenness.

The Coven Queen on the other hand knew Timothy had to hear things for himself.

“You’ve thus far been faithful with the other sacrifices of your family members, beginning with your husband Geoffrey” Mrs Bale further said “Surely you won’t be disappointing us having come so far?”

           The witches locked eyes and the gathering could tell then was tension between them for unapparent reasons. There was a general murmur of consensus on this with quite a few attesting to Garella’s dedication to the coven and their cause.

“I will not fail to sacrifice Timothy my son as pledged Queen Shrielle” Garella replied “.. When it is expected of me I will not fail to deliver”  

           With that she said no more, but took one last lingering look at the throne where she was certain someone familiar who ought not to be present was observing her. She however dare not bring a railing accusation against her queen for violating the coven’s rules without proof fearing the consequences she could be wrong; she wasn’t prepared to risk it.

           Timothy Shaw could watch no more.

           He drew away from the aperture and rested against the insides of the throne exhausted from the shock of it all. He pondered deeply over everything he’d both seen and heard. His mother no longer felt his presence which was quite confusing at first, but this wasn’t sufficient to entirely dismiss what she’d discerned. Throughout the rest of the coven gathering Shrielle the Coven Queen observed how uneasy her friend felt.

“So this is what they do during the witching hours?” Timothy sadly thought

           The fact that his mother, and not some curse, was solely responsible for the deaths of his father and six brothers was almost too much for him to bear. Whilst overhearing goings on until the end of the gathering, he thought back to what had led to him being here.

#

           Mrs Bale, a widow like his mother had had no children, not even an adopted one.

           One day in her usual manner she’d returned from the supermarket with almost a ton of groceries, and in his Timothy had hurried over and helped her carry them all the way to her front door despite her modest objections. He never ceased wondering how she managed to eat so much considering her petit frame. Regardless, he didn’t stop helping her whenever he came across her that way. Whilst his brothers were still alive they often teased and ridiculed him over this but it didn’t change his attitude. Seeing his mother’s friend struggle with the groceries just didn’t sit well with him. His brothers on the other hand would lift a finger to help the old lady.

           Timothy really couldn’t say why but he’d developed a fondness for Mrs Bale since his childhood; one that hadn’t waned as he’d grown. He considered her the aunt he never had considering his mother was an only child.

           On one such occasion whilst helping her to her front porch with groceries he’d referenced missing his late brothers. She observed he was genuinely sad about it.

“That fate shouldn’t befall a good kid such as yourself Timmy” she’d responded

           This was at first mere wishful thinking to Timothy, but she’d gone on to say

“Maybe there’s something you can do about it?”

           This struck him as rather odd and hopeless too.

“Me?” he blurted dejectedly “What could I possibly do? I don’t even know what’s going on or why it’s even happening to us”

           Mrs Bale’s reply gave him a considerable deal to think about.

“For being the sweet lad you’ve always been and the kindness you’ve always shown me, I could show you” she offered “… but on one condition”

           The petit old lady’s countenance then changed to a more menacing one. Timothy had never ever seen her this way and drew back from her a little. Her demeanour conveyed the understanding she was dead serious.

“If you’re sure you don’t want to end up like the rest of your dead family” she began

           She then told him the date and time he was to return to her house and ended it with.

“… And not a word of this to your mother!”

           She was emphatic about this.

#

The grandfather clock chimed 3.00 am and snapped Timothy back to the present.

He heard the gathering conclude its affairs for the night and the witches departing. Just as they’d arrived he heard them each leave with the now morbidly familiar whirling sounds of dust-devils until they were all gone.

           The Coven Queen then brought him out from beneath her throne just as she’d placed him there. He was obviously still quite shaken but she equally had a sense of urgency about her still. Unmoved by his feelings she greeted him with obvious bad news.

“She knows” she began “.. and if you don’t do exactly as I tell you, your life is forfeit!”

           She’d always been the frank, ‘No Nonsense – Cut the Bullshit’ type in real life, and was no different now despite her looks and the circumsatnces. Timothy Shaw looked at Mrs Bale a.k.a. Shrielle the Coven Queen questioningly. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was a reason to it all; there simply had to be. As ugly as the truth was she was still literally saving his life.

“Why?” he asked, almost sobbing as he did “Why are you helping me?”

           There might be no way of him knowing his mother’s reasons for killing her entire household, but he desperately wanted to know Mrs Bale’s, especially since she was obviously aware of what had been happening all these years and had done nothing to stop it until now.

“I couldn’t bear to see you die like your brothers” she simply told him “Dear Timothy, you deserve better, .. for you were the best of them lad” 

With a finger to her lips she hushed him before he could ask anything more and gave him the instructions upon which his life would depend.

“She’s coming straight for you and with bad intentions son” she told him

           She then conjured a tomahawk out of thin air and handed it to him.

“As soon as you get home do not sleep” she warned “.. and the moment you feel any gust of wind coming at you hack away at it with everything you got”

           Timothy understood this clearly. Thus far he was okay, but there was more.

“Do not stop hacking until dawn” Mrs Bale added “.. Now be gone!”

           With a snap of her fingers she and the coven vanished from his sight.

It took him a few moments to realize where he suddenly found himself. Timothy Shaw was in his bedroom and it was ten minutes past three in the morning. He was expecting to see Mrs Bale with him for reasons he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps he craved the need for a companion of sorts in this his hour of need. Her parting words however remained imprinted in his mind. With them he looked at the tomahawk she’d given him and brandished it whilst bracing for what would be the fight of his life.

He honestly doubted if he’d ever be able to forgive his mother or even love her again. The compassion he’d had for her had been replaced with hate. Nevertheless, he doubted if he’d be able to kill her. Getting as far away as possible from her to escape her evil plans wasn’t an option now for she had ungodly and inhuman means of seeing them through. What was he to do after that night? Timothy Shaw was clueless.

“My mum’s a witch?!” he said in dismay “..And a church member too?!”

           It didn’t make any sense how combining membership of the two was even possible, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on this for the wind he’d been warned of had come.

           From within the confines of his bedroom with all windows and doors locked the chilly gusts came rapidly and repeatedly. It blew at him with a deadly chill and menacing force, and as instructed Timothy began hacking at it with the weapon he’d been given. With each strike it seemed he could feel something invisible in the darkness, but he didn’t stop neither did he relent. He continued this way until the first ultra-violet rays of sunlight broke the horizon and then everything became peaceful, like nothing had happened at all.

           As night gave way to daylight Timothy looked at the tomahawk Mrs Bale had given him shortly before it disappeared from his hand. Its assignment had been completed and thus returned to its owner.

           Later that day Timothy Shaw received a call from the police. His mum had been found dead in her home, literally hacked to pieces in her blood-soaked bed. Mysteriously there’d been no forced entry, nor had there been a struggle of any kind. There’d been no murder weapon either and no bloodstained footprints of the perpetrator leaving the scene of the presumed crime. This had the detectives investigating the case extremely puzzled.

           Timothy Shaw never shed a tear for her neither did he say a word. All he knew was that the witch who’d saved his life was the Coven Queen.