By moonlight's shadow

Chapter 38

Rhonda narrowed her black eyes at the figurines. They'd been rearranging themselves again. She knew they did it just to gaul her. Instead of the painful grimace and fighting stances she'd left them in they were now blowing kisses at one another. She felt her guts twist in protest, she always was allergic to romance. Her long-fingered hands raised to her hips as she tapped her shoe on the floor. The glare from her eyes could have killed a human in seconds, the glass figures began to wilt. Slowly they moved into combat poses and their dopey expressions became fierce. Rhonda gave a swift nod and departed to find her cat. She'd left him a note last night ordering three rats, a toad and a newt. She had no doubt he'd have them, disappointment was not an emotion she wore well.

The witch scowled at her reflection. Baby smooth skin. She spat yellow green saliva over her image and folded her arms tightly over her loosely hanging black garment. She'd tried infecting her face with the verruca that grew on her aunt's foot. She had rubbed it with poison ivy. She had soaked it overnight with pads of salt-water. No matter what she did her face stayed stubbornly looking like a sixteen year old goody-two-shoes. Even her eyes were a bright hazel instead of the yellow-amber her mothers had been. How on earth was she going to rise to power in the coven looking like a common villager? Even her roots were already growing in auburn. She flicked her wand at the stolen looking-glass and it melted off the wall, forming a glassy puddle at her feet.

“I thought you might have as well as forsaken me.” Clusters of dust scatters as Rhonda strides in. The sweet aroma of herbs gets into my nose quickly as she was drinking from a cup of tea, it is possibly jasmine. She is sitting by the fireplace, her literally empty face boring into me. I have not seen her in so many years that I almost forgot the terror of seeing such hideous thing. Rhonda entered and sat before her grandmother as the smell of jasmine sickened her to the core.

“You have not changed it seems,” said the hideous older witch. She was probably more than three hundred years old but the ferocity and the savagery in her eyes had not decreased a little bit.

“What is this am I hearing Grandmama? How could you do this to me? I mean, I am the one who is your flesh and blood and I am the best sorceress that you have in the entire coven and still you have sent that nincompoop Rebecca to the Bloody Academy?” asked Rhonda and her words were not just being spoken. They were being spat at her grandmother but the old witch hardly reacted to any of the accusations.

Rhonda stomped her foot on the ground and hurled the tea pot at the door making Rickets cower away behind the chair of her Mistress.

“That is the precise reason why you were not chosen for this mission, you stupid git!!!’ said her grandmother as she looked up at her grand-daughter whose face was so beautiful that it hurt to look at her.

“What is the reason? Huh!! You have been keeping me away from the outer world and have always given me the most impossible and toughest tasks thinking that I would always failed but unfortunately for my goodness and your misfortune I succeeded in them, and to what purpose? To be surpassed by a witch who does not have even a quarter of experience like I do and neither she has the strength of being up for the mission that you have entrusted to her,” said Rhonda, her teeth were out snarling and her anger seemed like they were made out of pearls.

The older sorceress snapped her fingers once and Rhonda’s beautiful pink lips disappeared from her face.

Those who fear witchcraft have not cognition of their own tongue, for they speak, "Which craft?" It is as if they feel there are two ways to travel, as two boats upon water, and they fear a wrong choice. So we answer that all that is good comes from God, that his 'craft' is a part of nature and of us also. For the ones who seek only the light, the love, the healing that flows in all creation, our magic isn't ours at all. We are not as conductors of an orchestra with a wand, but more as the soft music of the flute. We are ones of duty, filled with love, moving with nature, inspired by the beauty of creation. We are moved by the loving hands of our creator, yours and mine, and have the power to resist the negative force, the one we do not name. The chaos of the universe has a synchronicity that can only be seen by those committed to either the positive or negative side, the forces beyond what we call 'reality.'

If you are blind to it, then be sure that God is trying to reach you and show you the beauty you hold within, to offer you the same chance to serve goodness and live only with positivity, joy, gratitude and love. If you prefer the term 'angels,' 'fairies' or 'rainbow warriors,' that's okay, yet they are only words. The power is in how these sounds we make with our mouths have become a part of the wiring of the brain, and how knowledge of such brings the power of love to some, yet poisons others with a love of power. So, witchcraft? Which craft? The good craft of course, the course to Eden (some say to Narnia, to heaven or to paradise); take this chance to sail on the river that gives of itself to the ocean. Our help comes from the lord, the great spirit, the creator of earth and the heavens.

“You remember this which you had been taught when you were a young child? Isn’t it? I know you remember, no no…don’t even try anything next, I am going to take away your eyes as well. You have been speaking too much. You are only supposed to listen…being my grand-daughter does not give you any power to question my decisions or authority…so yes, if you remember these words, do you even recall the purpose why we have these powers in the first place?” asked the old witch but she did not expect any answer since she had taken away her ability to speak.

“You know Rhonda, your mother had paid a huge price so that her daughter would be beautiful, body, mind and soul. She had wanted you to be the beacon of Light but it seems that it is a good thing that she is not here to see what a disappointment you have grown up to be. You wanted to know why you were not selected for this mission, why do you think Rhonda? Despite of you having a face that can tempt the angels and a body which can give any man run for his money, it is because you are a hammer, and I needed a needle. Rebecca might be weak, weaker than you but she is obedient and knows how to follow orders. She knows what kind of touch is required in case of extracting information from the enemy camp. She knows how to do her job without making her presence known and that is where you would have failed abysmally. You are so damn worried about your position inside the coven and the petty politics that you have forgotten about the world which is outside. The world for which our powers must be dedicated…we must be ugly on the inside for we take the ugliness from nature and create good but you are beautiful on the inside and have an utterly black heart…no, what you are thinking is not going to work girlie. You know that I am right, and killing me is not the best course of action that you can take at this point of time,” said the old witch as she hovered around the house and picked up the broken pieces of china which had clattered because of the display of anger of her granddaughter.

“One tentacle of power is the insulation from risk, one becomes unaccustomed to safety and comfort, then as a child who has not felt the cold in a long time, the temptation grows to do anything to keep the self safe. Yet love is the opposite, the willingness to sacrifice, to walk out into the cold if that is what is necessary. So beware of the insulating, the comfort that is shackles as privilege yet heaven when it is a universal high standard for all,” said the old witch as she finished cleaning up the cottage and then snapped her fingers once again. Rhonda got back her mouth and she breathed in deeply through her mouth sucking in air into her lungs.

“When I'm triggered it is so very hard to have self control, I'm doing the actions, it is my behaviour but it's as if the gas peddle got stuck down and in that acceleration, in that momentum, the steering wheel gets all jammed up too. It's all fight or fight and it's so disappointingly primitive but I can't override it unless I have a friend to help me, to guide, to release that emotional pressure so that I can take back the steering and make good choices. Without someone to love me, to switch my higher brain back on, I'm temporarily stupid...,” said Rhonda, as her grandmother looked at her.

“You see, a moment of silence and then suddenly you start understanding almost every single thing that you should have understood without me being such a beastly thing. You have to understand that Rhonda, you are going to be my successor and not all these lame creatures who think that their height or their spells or their ugliness is going to take them to power. But you my darling, you are going to be the face of the sorceresses in the Triad Council meeting in a few years and before that happens I want you to be fully ready. And I am leaving no stone unturned for that. Rebecca is supposed to be back within a week with very important news from those blood-suckers,” said the older one while Rhonda grimaced.

“But Grandmama, why did you send her there in the first place? I mean, as far as the Treaty has been imposed hundreds of years ago, we are not supposed to be hobnobbing with those blood-suckers, isn’t it?” asked Rhonda and the old woman’s lips curled into something sinister which could be called the closest thing to a smile for her.

“Oh dear girl, you should understand that there are always some loopholes which makes it possible for us to gain news of the things and the people about whom we are not supposed to know. The Seer has spoken of a creature who will rise from among the bloodsuckers with powers unforeseen and untold and she is going to be the new future and beacon of hope for every single creature out there. The knowledge that there is going to be something like this and we might have a new Leader, rather a Queen, forecoming of a Queen, with the powers of the Mother Goddess, we need to know everything about this and Rebecca knows exactly how to scourge the information about her from these blood suckers,” said the older woman with an expression of distaste and the spat on the ground noisily.