True Witchcraft

The wind whistled through the cracks of the old barn and the candles flickered, elongating shadows on the walls.  The storm brewing outside had knocked the power out hours before, but the wedding was to proceed as planned.  The music sounded eerie against the pounding rain, but as Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D began, Tabitha started her march down the aisle.  She looked around the barn, and tears streamed down her cheeks as memories, both good and bad, flooded her mind.

            Tabitha knew that the old barn wasn’t exactly the most romantic place to be wed, but it was where everything had begun and it was where she intended to end all the ridicule.  She had spent days cleaning out the manure corner and sprucing the taped up windows with lace hangings.  The chairs she had placed throughout the barn were for an audience that was never going to attend.

            As she looked up into the loft, and smiled as she remembered that fateful night when she and Zachary had taken refuge in this barn from a storm as frightening and strong as the one that was billowing outside now. 

Zachary had been betrothed to another woman, a woman of high-status and respect in the small town of Friuli.  Harmony was the daughter of the mayor and Zachary was the son of the most prestigious farmer.  Their engagement had been known throughout the town, practically from the day Harmony was born.  They had been told their whole lives that they were to be married, and they never questioned their parents’ wishes.

            When she and Zachary had taken refuge here, it hadn’t taken her long to get him to open up about his feelings, because no one had ever asked him what he felt before.

            “Zachary, I see you around town with the beautiful, young Harmony White, but neither of you seem to be happy, why is that?”

            “Who are you to say that I’m not happy?”

            “You never smile and when her name is mentioned your face drops just a little, for only a moment.  I spend a lot of my time observing people, not so much talking, so I notice things that others miss.  Many miss the unhappiness in you, in both of you.”

            “And you know what happiness looks like, Miss Tabitha?  You’re the local witch, and you are all alone, orphaned in high school.  What happiness have you ever experienced?  You’re an outcast here, unless you’re needed to heal the wounds of the town.”

            “I know happiness, because I have felt it within me when I get to help people and become known as ‘the healer’ for just one minute instead of the ‘devilish witch.’  I know happiness because before my gift was recognized by the town on that dreadful day when I saved Joey Martin’s life with just the herbs outside this barn, I had friends that played with me like I was normal.  And even after I became the town witch, there were people like you that never shunned me or threw rocks at me, but stood up to those that did.  So therefore, Zachary Booth, I do know what happiness looks and feels like, because I have felt it and I have seen it.”

            Zachary sighed and hung his head as he began his story.

            “As you know, my father died when I was young.  He always told me that his greatest desire was to see me and Harmony be wedded and join our two families together.  Since he was my father, I held great respect for him and I wanted to do nothing but please him.  So when he died, I knew that I had no choice but to follow his wishes.  My mother only encouraged these notions.  She did everything in her power to make me remember the words he said, ‘Son, do what your mother tells you and keep honor in our family name.’  Harmony and I are controlled by our parents’ wishes and their desires to join the two family names.”

            “Well, now, that just sounds silly to me.  You are a very strong individual.  How did your mother make you do anything you didn’t want to?”

            Tabitha remembered the hurt in his eyes as he said, “She knew I loved and respected my father.  He did everything in the world to make her happy, and when he died, I knew I was expected to keep up the tradition.  My father’s words haunt me.  I cannot make mistakes to dishonor him or our family name.  It’s important to me to be the son and man he always wanted me to be.  My mother knew him best, so I do as she tells me to.”

            “And that, Zachary, is where you have strayed.  Your mother is only trying to gain prestige.  She doesn’t want your happiness, only hers.  I have not seen you smile once since your father died so many years ago, and hers becomes more cruel every day.  I know neither you nor Harmony are happy in your engagement, but everyone is so caught up in the idea that they are blind to how you both actually feel.  Forgive me for being forward, but I can’t let this opportunity pass to express to you how I feel.”

            She leaned over and kissed him as the rain pounded against the old wood and the wind snuck through the cracks, raising bumps on their skin. 

            Tabitha smiled at the memory.  She had stolen his heart with a single kiss, but he had stolen hers with many years of kindness.  As she came closer to him at the end of the aisle, she knew that this was meant to be.

            Their courtship had been short, and very much disapproved by everyone in the town, with the exception of the relieved Harmony.  Tabitha began cleaning out the barn when Zachary had asked her to run away with him.  She knew there needed to be a proper marriage, so she planned everything in secret. 

            The preacher came in from out of town and brought his own witnesses.  It was to be just them, as it had been in the barn on that stormy night.

            The music ended and Tabitha looked into Zachary’s eyes.  They both smiled.

            “Marriage is a state of love and devotion that is shared between two people.  In your marriage this day, I speak of it respectfully…”

            Just then, the barn door burst open and a short woman with wild hair came running through.

            “Zachary Aaron Booth, what on God’s green earth are you doing?  This woman is barely human and you are with her in front of this crazy man to marry her?  Do you know what she is?  What she is capable of?  She has you under a spell, Zachary.  Don’t you see it?”

            “Mother, what are you doing here?” Zachary said as his face paled and Tabitha felt his hands turn cold.

            “Saving your life from this witch,” she turned to Tabitha, “Get away from my baby.  Get out of his head, you evil temptress.  I cannot believe you would sink so low as to manipulate an engaged man to marry you.  You disgust me.”

            The preacher behind them muttered, “Oh no, here we go.  Another crazed, overprotective mother coming to ‘save the day.’”  He sighed, leaned back against the ladder, and folded his arms to watch the show unfold.

The storm raged on outside, but inside the silence bore down on them. 

            Zachary finally spoke, “Mother, I’m not your little baby anymore.  I’m a man, and I am capable of making my own decisions.  Tabitha has done nothing but good in this town and I’m honored to marry her.”  Tabitha squeezed his hand.

            Pain etched across his mother’s face.  “Then you are no longer my son.  This creature is not going to defile our family name, Zachary, so I suggest you come to your senses and be reasonable.”

            “I am being reasonable, Mother.  And I have come to my senses.  Tabitha isn’t the one that is manipulating me, it is you.  It has always been you.”

            His mother’s face quickly changed to rage.  “How dare you speak to me like that.  You know that I only do things because I want you to be happy.  You cannot possibly be happy with a witch, Zachary, she’s not even human.”

            “Tabitha is more human than you are.  She is willing to do anything to help anyone; you are willing to do anything to help only you.  Open your eyes, Mother, I am finally free of manipulation and I am finally happy.  If you cared at all, you would be happy for me too.”

            With that, he tried to race out into the storm with Tabitha in tow, but his mother grabbed his arm.

            “You will not speak to me like that, boy.”

            He shook her hand off his arm and turned again toward the door.

            “Zachary, don’t you take another step.  Think of your father.  He would be disappointed in you.  This witch would disgrace his name and cause him nothing but heartache, and you know it.  She is using her witchcraft to make you marry her.  Snap out of it, Zachary.  I’m going to say it one more time, come to your senses and come with me.”

            Tabitha could take it no longer.  She stepped in front of Zachary’s mother, and slapped her across the face.

            "How's that for witchcraft, Mrs. Booth?"  She grabbed Zachary and they turned once more toward the door and exited into the refreshing rain.

Inspired Thoughts

I have been around for centuries.  I have been passed down from artist to artist.  I help the current artist that holds me create masterpieces that are never forgotten.  Leonardo di Vinci, Beethoven, and Shakespeare were a few of my favorites to work with.  Because of me, many people are able to see beyond their own realm and create things that are still famous today.

I'm not allowed to talk to the artist, or course.  That is my only rule.  The work must be theirs.  I just move the images in their minds to help their creative juices flow more freely.  Often I am referred to as "inspiration," or "muse," but my true title is "The Pen of Perfection."

The current subject that holds me is a young mind of thirteen years old.  His name is Richard.  A good solid name, a creator's name, but his mind is clouded over with the laziness that technology has brought upon this generation.  It is next to impossible to get him to stop looking at a television or an iPad screen, let alone be original.  Technology has been nothing but hazardous to the human mind, I tell you.  Try as I might, I cannot reach him.  My first subject to fail to create while holding me in their hands; I cannot let this happen!

This was my moment.  Richard had homework and was forced to move to a desk.  I had to make my move.  "Richard, you need to stop rotting the connections in your mind with these technological devices.  You have a gift that needs to be molded."  I said it.  I broke the only rule of my existence.  I spoke.

Richard's shock was to be expected, but throwing me out the window to meet tires screeching over me seemed a little excessive.  If he had had any creative juices at all, he would have seen what an incredible device I actually am, not something to be feared and discarded.  Young impressionable minds are being clouded over.  It is my duty to save them.  Maybe my next owner will not be so jaded to creativity.

Mistaken Creation

The laundry buzzer was going off and I quickly announced this fact to my mom.  She usually needs lots of help on Saturdays.  She can never seem to hear that buzzer, no matter how close she is to the machine.  I was working on my masterpiece and couldn’t be distracted by the annoying buzz of the dryer, so an even louder yell came next.

            My masterpiece was a snake that I was making from the play-doh my dad gave me for my birthday last week.  My dad brought it home from his trip to Guatemala, so it was extra cool.  It even had a sugary smell to it instead of that salty stuff.  It was softer than American play-doh too, almost like real clay.  The strangest part was the label: Beware of your creations.  What’s that supposed to mean?  It’s not like its real.  Even though, that would be pretty cool.

I finished flattening out the head on the rolled up snake body.  There were two slits for eyes and I had awesome sculpted fangs—they almost looked real!  I was beginning to work on the rattler lines when my mom told me to put my clothes away. 

            “Distractions, distractions!  How can an artiste work in a place like this?”  I ask myself as I head down to the laundry room.

            As I was walking back up the stairs, I looked over to the kitchen table.  My snake wasn’t there!  Where could it have gone?  It had been right there. 

            Then I saw it.  Not in the clay-like, coiled position I had left it in, but it was staring me directly in the face, its pointed tongue flickering at me.  It started to slither toward me.  I turned and ran thinking to myself, “So that’s what the label meant—I guess having my masterpiece come to life isn’t as cool as I thought.  I shouldn’t have made those fangs so life-like.  Maybe next time I’ll listen to the label.”

An Unexpected Life

When she got settled in her seat, her mind started swimming.  She was terrified.  She was about to become the guardian of two beautiful children, but she was only 18.  She had plans.  She was going to be valedictorian at her graduation.  She was going to attend Furman University with her best friend, Keriann.  She was going to make something of herself.  Now, her world had turned upside down.  As the plane climbed higher and higher into the sky she took out some photographs of her home in South Carolina as well as her brother’s family in Colorado.  The images sent her mind soaring through time and the scene replayed again and again like a broken movie as she reviewed the past few hours of her life and the events that changed everything. 

The Carolina moon nearly took up the whole oceanic sky as its face smiled gently upon the single-stop-light town, gazing down like a silent guardian.  The stars dotted the dark horizon, as if a child’s connect-the-dot book exploded, accenting the moon by paling in its brilliance.  The air was thick and pushed down on the flesh, causing it to moisten like stepping out of a hot shower.  It tasted of salt from the nearby ocean, burning the nostrils and throat.  There was a faint scent, like that of mothballs, wafting on the hot breeze.  Steam rolled up from the roads, causing the town to look like an eerie graveyard from a horror film.  Indian grass crept up the ankles of any stranger, while fire ants ran rampant from hill to food and quickly back to hill again. 

            Crickets’ hums echoed through the dogwoods and pines.  They were singing praises for the clearing of the previous hour’s storm that had ruined their gallivanting.  The fervent storm had ripped through the town like a careless robber, tossing picnic tables, chairs, and pool toys aside without a second thought.  There were rain drops the size of golf balls coming down in hordes, wind that whistled through the snapping tree branches, and seeped through the cracks of acrylic painted wooden homes.  The lightning strikes were perfect and remained imprinted in the eyes even after blinking for several seconds.  They were followed by earth-shaking thunder that doesn’t just cause the windows to shudder, but induces the entire house to tremble and sounds as if a whip has been cracked by Hercules himself.  

            This is Jessica’s home: magnificent and unpredictable with beauty hidden behind every corner.  That is, it was her home until the day she received the phone call--the phone call that turned her perfect world upside down.

            Life was good.  She was a senior in high school, and she was on her way to being valedictorian at her graduation in a week.  She had been voted “most likely to succeed” and “best personality” in her sophomore and junior years, and she was planning to keep those votes for her senior year.  She was an active member in the marching band (ranked number one in the state of South Carolina and sixth nationwide) as well as in the Honor Society and the editor-in-chief of the school newspaper.  She had a full-ride scholarship to Furman University and offers from several others.  She had been first runner up for homecoming queen this past fall and was escorted by the quarterback of the football team.  She volunteered at the local hospital two nights a week and worked at the Piggly Wiggly on the weekends.  Except this weekend; this weekend she and her best friend Keriann had taken it off to go on a road trip to the mountains to go camping.  A girl’s night out was their monthly tradition.  This month was a little more extravagant in order to celebrate their upcoming graduation.

            She and Keriann have been best friends since diapers.  They were inseparable, practically attached at the hip.  They shared everything: chap-sticks and sodas to colds and chickenpox.  They even scratched each other’s pox when their parents weren’t looking, and learned that sometimes parents do know what they are talking about, because they really do itch more if you scratch them.  Somehow they even managed to have boyfriends at the same time, so they never felt left out or like a “third wheel.”  They were both accepted to Furman and planned to room together in the fall.

            Keriann is beyond gorgeous.  Her lemon curls graze the tops of her shoulders and bounce with every step she takes.  Her golden highlights accent her rosy cheeks and jovial, azure eyes.  Her smile runs from ear to ear, revealing perfect ivory teeth that have been corrected by the aid of braces back in middle school.  Her slim figure and long legs are those of a dancer, while her slender fingers are perfect to allow her to exercise the gift of music she was given.  She dances with elegance and moves with such grace that she could be compared to a golden eagle soaring through the crisp mountain air.  Her movements are meticulously chosen and continuously flow.  She always has her head held high and focused as she moves with purpose.  When she picks up an instrument, the sound that comes is as graceful as her movements and reaches the depths of every heart in attendance.

            Jessica’s father couldn’t raise three children on his own, so the small town took them all under its wing for help and support, but since Keriann’s mother was her mother’s best friend, she was partial to her.  Keriann became not only her best friend, but a sister by chance.  Though she still lives with her father, she spends as much time as possible with Keriann and her mother. 

Her father is Parker Sampson, a gentle man of high status in the town.  He is kind and loving and always ready to lend a hand to someone in need.  The oldest boy, Weston, married Marie Greenely and moved to Colorado to work shortly after their marriage.   He was always the one who made sure that everyone was happy and well taken care of, because he was worried that they wouldn’t know how to grow up properly without a mother.  They now have two children of their own: Spencer (5 years) and Cortnee (2 years).  The second boy, Jacob, enlisted in the Marines when he was 21 years old and is stationed in Okinawa, Japan.  He was the odd one in the family.  He was never content on just enjoying the quiet sounds of the town, but he was always a delight to have around.  Jessica was the youngest of the bunch.  All the Sampson’s, have the same build: lean, athletic, and tall.  They all have bright blue eyes and silky brown hair with dark complexions. 

            Thursday, after school, Keriann and Jessica headed out for their trek northward.  They had told their teachers in advance that they would be missing classes the following day.  None of them seemed to mind.  The drive was always fun for them.  They would blast the radio and sing at the top of their lungs, laughing at each other’s impersonation of the current singers.  The people driving past would often laugh at them, which would cause them to laugh even harder with tears streaming down their faces. 

            That was the last time Jessica could remember laughing.

            They were crossing over of the boarder between North and South Carolina when Jessica’s cell phone rang.  She was driving, so Keriann answered it.  All Jessica could hear was Keriann’s end of the conversation:

            “Hello?”  she paused.  “No, I’m her friend.  She’s driving.  Could I give her a message?”  Another pause.  “Yes, sir.”  She started jotting down a name and a phone number on a napkin from the Huddle House.  “OK, thank you.”  She hung up the phone.

            “Who was that, Keri?”  Jessica asked immediately after she hung up.

            “Jess, stop at the next rest stop.  You need to call this guy back.  He said it was important, but he couldn’t tell me what was going on.  He’s from the Denver Police Department.”

            “Denver?”  she couldn’t control the panic in my voice, “That’s where Wes and his family live.  You don’t think something could have happened to them, do you?”

            “I’m sure they’re fine.  Just call Officer Rogue back.”

            She pulled over at the next stop and dialed the number for the Denver Police Department.  When the call connected, an overly cheerful woman answered the phone.  She asked for Officer Rogue and she forwarded the call to him.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey Officer, this is Jessica Sampson.  You called me?”

            “Yes, I need you to get on a plane to Denver as soon as you can.  I can’t explain all the details without you and your brother’s attorney present.  Call me when you get to the airport.  The ticket will be paid for.”

            “Is everything OK?  Are Weston, Marie and the kids OK?”  The panic continued to rise in her voice.  She tried to brace myself for the worst, but even if she would have had a year, she would have never been prepared for his following words.  Each word was chosen with care, but they cut like a dagger twisting with each breath.

            “Your brother and his wife were in an accident.  Another car lost control and the car swerved into their lane.  It was a head-on collision.  Both Weston and Marie were killed instantly, so there was no pain.  They had been out and were returning home to the baby-sitter and the children, so the kids are unharmed.  I’m truly sorry for…”

            He continued to speak, but the phone dropped from her ear.  Nothing he would say could take the pain away.  This could not be happening.  She looked over at Keriann and began to sob.  Keriann held her letting her cry for as long as she needed, never asking any questions.  When she finally got control herself enough to speak, she told her what Officer Rogue said in between sobs.  When she got to the last part, she couldn’t finish because another fit attacked her.  After she stopped crying, they loaded themselves back in the car and Keriann started driving back towards the border.

            The ride to the airport was a blur for Jessica.  She called her dad and he told her to go ahead and head out to Colorado to get all the details and he’d follow shortly after to make funeral arrangements.  The airport was on the way home, so Keriann just dropped her off since she had a few days worth of stuff with her.  They’d been discussing the upcoming events.  Jessica knew what the lawyer would tell her, the same thing that Wes had told her a year ago: She would be the guardian of the kids.  Wes had asked her to be the guardian when he and Marie were making their living wills last year.  The will took effect the day she turned 18.  She would also inherit their home.  She was free to sell it, but she didn’t think it would be fair for the kids to uproot them from the life they’ve known, especially after losing their parents.  Her dad told her he’d move out there as soon as he could find work so she wouldn’t be alone for too long.

            When they arrived at the airport, she called Officer Rogue and got the flight arranged.  She had an hour wait before departure, so she just sat with Keriann in the waiting room.  They tried to think of things to say, but the words just wouldn’t come.  Finally, Keri spoke:

            “Jess, I know I can’t say anything to make this situation any better, but I do know it will all work out.  Those kids need you just as bad as you need them.  Just think, you always wanted kids and now you will get to have them without any of the labor pains.”

            Jessica couldn’t help but smile.  She gave her a hug.

            “You’re right, Keri, I get to skip a couple of steps.  This is why I love you.  You always make light of any dark situation.  I’m going to miss you so much.”

            “I’ll miss you, too.  Maybe I’ll come live with you in Denver and we can still go to school together in the fall.  Furman isn’t the only good university around.  We’ll have to see if we can’t figure something out.”

            “Flight 417 to Denver is now boarding all passengers,” the intercom chimed in.

            “That’s me.  I’ll see you soon.  Thanks for everything.  You really are the best.”

            The plane was beginning to descend over the luscious evergreen painted mountains, and her heart sank with it.  The snow-capped Rockies captivated her mind in their majesty and, for her, became the walls of a new home.

Vegas Conflict

‘Gone to Vegas.  Be back soon.  Love, Steve.’  That was it.  The Note.  The Note left for my parents to find when they returned from the annual family trip.  The Note that would change my family dynamic forever.  The Note.  Just a few words scrawled across the notebook my mom kept by the phone for important messages.  It was just sitting there.  Waiting.  Waiting for my parents to read it, process it, then reach full potential freak-out mode. 

Now, the Note itself wasn't the bombshell.  For my mom, it was that her oldest son ran off to some chapel in Las Vegas, the sin capital of the world, with a woman—no, a girl—that he had been dating for two weeks.  A girl that my mom had met the day she was leaving for the family trip.  A girl that was now married to her son by some knock-off Elvis impersonator.  A girl that was now an addition to the family.  A girl that would be a change in my mom's very own life.

Enter conflict.  My mom is a petite woman, 5'3" with long dark hair (only because she dyes it, but I'm not supposed to know that) and deep set dark brown eyes.  Well, this petite woman has an explosive button that is pushed whenever change is present.  My mom doesn't do well with change-any kind of change.  That includes change from a dollar, change in temperature, and changes in life-especially the unexpected ones.

I thought after she had finished reading that note about 1,000 times, she would need to go to an oral surgeon to get her jaw back in working order, since it hit the floor so hard and so fast.  I watched her face change from exhaustion, to ghostly white, to sickly green, to purple with fury.  It looked nearly like a kaleidoscope picture.  Only, for me, there was a fear-factor attached instead of a feeling of awe and pleasure from the beauty that a REAL kaleidoscope brings.  The fear always follows once something has triggered that explosive button in my mom.     

Then the screaming came. 

“What on EARTH was he thinking?!?!  He doesn’t know that girl well enough to even say her last name!  My goodness, how could someone DO something like this?  He was raised better, I tell you.  He was raised better!”

My remaining brothers and my dad quickly scattered from the room like cock-roaches running from the light.  My reaction time has never been as good as theirs.  I got left in the wake of her rampage.  But at least I made it out to tell the tale.

Steven, my brother that left the massive destruction in my mom’s life, returned the next morning to find my mom completely calm and a letter waiting for him with his name on it.  The letters my mom gave out were one of two things: 1) absolute joy in any accomplishment or 2) absolute disappointment in anything she considered a failure.  Let’s just say his letter wasn’t in category number one.

“So, you’re married now?” my mom asked once Steven had had a chance to gather some of his things from the house.

“Yep.”

“Well, I hope everything works out for you.  I think you were crazy to jump into something so fast, but I do hope the best for you.”

“Thanks.”

And that was that.  The turmoil that my mom faced for those few days was apparent in every step she took and every sound she made, but as she has gotten to know my sister-in-law (even if she was married into the family by a knock-off Elvis impersonator) she has changed her perspective.  My mom has come to terms with her own initial conflict and been able to be at peace with my brother’s decision.  In fact, my sister-in-law has been one of the craziest, but most exciting additions to the family.  She has leaned on my mom and my mom has leaned on her through the years.  All in a nutshell, the internal conflict for my mom, although apparent to everyone, was a means for her to open her arms to an unexpected change.  And actually LIKE it.

Fiction Writing

I have started a couple of different stories, I just haven't had time to sit down and finish them.  I promise this will be completed soon!  I am taking a fiction writing class in the fall, so that should give me a little more motivation to get on with my writing.  So I WILL get some stuff up on here...eventually. :)