The Lighter Side of Dark

         Shania lay in a huddled mass of dishevelled gauze and ribbons. She had been so proud of her gay attire when setting out that morning, the rose-pink dawn shimmered in response to her rising spirits then. Now the shadows lengthened, as her mood dipped deeper into an abyss of self-pity – why does this always happen to me?

         It was impossible that she had passed her initiation tests; yet a germ of hope sprouted feebly within her dark thoughts, struggling for survival. A reluctant head rose upon the slender weary neck and a defiant hand dashed the last tears from her eyes. A streak of mud ran across her nose; it made her freckles seem charming – like the browned crumbs on freshly-baked biscuits. The brows were the only incongruous thing in that charming face, black and winged in a look of subtle wickedness. They drew together in determination now, as she got to her feet and strode away down the road.

         I will hold my head high and listen to the pronouncement and analysis. It is my last attempt too. Determination and regret washed over her in succeeding waves as she made her way to a clearing that seemed to have squeezed itself out of a fringe of gnarled and blasted trees. The sky had become that indeterminate shade between dusk and night -not quite dark, just a purple tinged glow of the departed sun.

         The trees were bare of leaves; it was far enough in October for the chill wind to nip at her exposed ankles and trail icy fingers across the nape of her neck. She stood as still as she could; the goose-bumps were of heightened expectation rather than cold. Her bowed head allowed auburn curls to fall in a curtain that turned to incandescent flame in last slanting rays of the fading light.

         A sharp C-rrack of thunder shuddered through the air and the trees groaned and whined in a sudden wind. The fallen leaves sibilantly whispered as they rustled in a frenzied invocation all russet and gold. Who would have thought Onomatopoeia was the sign for the powers-that-be? The wry thought flitted through Shania’s mind, even as three dark shapes appeared before her - hooded and cloaked.

         “I am the first; you failed me,” intoned the one who shook a pale fist in the air.

         “I am the second, you failed me next,” was the gravelly echo as greenish vapour arose from the seemingly empty hood of another.

         “I am the third, and I decide the fate tonight,” sounded like the sonorous peal of a distant bell-tower.

         Shaina awaited judgment, and held out a thin length of beech; it had darkened and was bent at the tip. She trembled as the three passed it from gnarled and knobbly hand to withered claw. There were grunts and snorts; even what seemed like a wheezing fit.

         Empty-Head seems to be the dominant one, if I can convince her to give me another chance…Shania quaked at the emanation of fetid thick puff of vapour, it almost gouged a hole in her nostrils with its acrid presence. She tried to rein in her wayward thoughts, not relying on lore that said reading thought was not a vaunted ability amongst the Chosen.

         "Uh-hrrm !"

         That’s Gravelly clearing phlegm from her throat; wonder if the spit is as pained purple as the sound? Shania ‘s irrepressible imagination ran riot before being recalled.

         “Soooooooooo Ms. Hesperus, what can you tell us about Random Item Transformation Experimentation Number 221?”

         Ignoring the accusation in the long drawn out first word, Shania marshalled her thoughts. The tasks had been chosen at random from a vast repository drawn up by the Governing Council, all ranked according to difficulty and evenly distributed between Transformation, Bewitchment and Curse.

         The first R.I.T.E. had been to give a perfect stranger the appearance of an aquatic animal in some prominent body part. It was difficulty level 3.75; leniency was often shown because such variance in body make-up shook even those with centuries of Art to their name.

         Shania had gone down to the river-side to search for someone she could harden her heart against; she had found the perfect victim. A stocky boy of about ten, who was chasing another small child - probably his sister. He had a fishing rod flung about six feet away down the bank, an over-turned bait can with pasty-white worms oozing out; one particularly juicy fat specimen dangling from his fingers and transforming his sister into a screaming banshee.

         The wand had come out and quivered in indignation as she pointed it square in the center of his arrogant back. Probably some stored animus against bullies made the words trip in haste as they emerged from her mouth.

“Hobble those digits, let fall the chips
With dark purpose he still lingers
May his sister lick her childish lips
In delight at his fish-fingers! “

         Instead of the boy’s fingers turning scaly and clammy and proving a source of shame and scorn, a big cone of fish and chips had materialized in the hands of the little one. She had lost no time in running to the camp with her prize, as fast as her plump legs could carry her. Bully-boy had to collect his paraphernalia before he attempted to follow. The rod had rolled down the grassy slope and had got itself entangled in bramble. The result was ignominy for the tormentor and delight for the little one, now busy chomping the unasked for manna. It was not quite the desired spell.

         Queen Victoria was not amused; these three are not even visibly affected. A frown from the Bell-Ringer would would have told me I'd dropped a clanger.

         A snap of bony fingers and an imperious wave of pallid hand announced the next part of the inquisition was occurring. A strange thrill jounced up Shania’s spine and irreverent thought made her wonder if this one had been to Shalimar? A delicious baby ripple, a just barely there smile flashed upon her lips as she thought of the poem.

         I should be chastened, but I feel buoyed by something unknown

         Hmm..the next task, well she hadn’t quite got to that. There were angry howls as the baffled boy watched the last morsel sucked into eager maw, just as he rounded the corner. He’d screamed enough about greedy girls, for his beleaguered mother to turn to her more amenable offspring and mildly reprove her for not sharing.

         The boy had mimicked the mild tone and repeated the words; asking her why he was always the one to get walloped while the girls got away with a hug and a kiss. The last words were mockingly delivered in a high falsetto, as he parroted in pseudo-feminine intonation.

         Shania had done no more than scratch her nose in disgust; a natural reaction to a kind of itch that had developed on the inside. Only she still had her wand in that hand and it had become hot with her indignation at the way the boy was treating his mother and sister. Before she knew it a red streak had erupted from the tip, bending the wood half an inch from the end. The boy now had a brilliant red parrot – no - macaw beak.

         The trees seemed to sigh with despair; an owl hooted in derision. The Three huddled together to deliver a pronouncement.

         Shania was by now blushing with embarrassment and hoping they wouldn’t ask how the wand had turned black. She had tried spell after spell to undo the poor boy’s misery; he could not have been more cowed or respectful of his Mommy after that grotesque punishment. But, try as she would, all that happened was a steady smoking from the wand.

         She had collapsed in a flood of futile tears then; finding herself strangely alone as the day had dimmed in rapid changes. She had thought it retribution for her ineptitude and cowered in fright and misery, making her way to Pronouncement Clearing when there seemed no escape.

         The verdict was due and the mid-night sky drew a welcome hood of velvet over the whole scene. No star pricked the curtain to twinkle faint reassurance to the trembling figure. The figures grew phosphorescent and loomed over Shania and they shimmered again. There was a yowl and a sound like the ripping of thick oilcloth. The moon made a giant floodlight that was a pearly beacon of sudden hope.

         What’s happening? Expectation burgeoned in unfamiliar ground; a prickle of warm anticipation coursed through her veins as The Three disappeared. The ground shook a little and as she put out a hand to regain balance, three figures flickered in front of her.

         Oh, No! Here we go again. Who knew déjà vu would be so painful! They should call it déjà voodoo. Shania nearly groaned with frustration as three grayish hooded figures materialized in the clearing. She was unsure why the colours had changed, but did not hope for much in it to benefit her.

         The nearest of them stretched out a brown arm with dimpled elbows, pushing back the hood to reveal a merry face framed in glossy brown pixie curls. Shania’s jaw was slack enough to have hit the ground, but it was hinged to her skull by a provident Maker.

         “What? Cat got your tongue? Naughty Kitty, give the young lady back her tongue at once!”

         A gray cat with eye-slits of golden amber looked up at Shania and rubbed itself against her legs. The other two had also thrown back hoods – they now looked like average young joggers in gray hoodies and sweats. One even had the new Nike trainers on her feet.

         “Mmmrrrow!” A pink mouth was delicately opened and closed as the approving mew was voiced.

         Shania found herself breaking into a sheer spontaneous smile as she bent and scooped up the kitten, for it was no more than that. It snuggled into the crook of her arm - the eyes now barely open, with a faint purr of satisfaction. She found herself feeling just as warm and happy, without quite knowing the reason why.

         The apparitions spoke up in voices that rang clear and sweet, like birdsongs in the early dawn.

         “Hi, Shania! Relax, I’m Kim-chi - we’re here to tell you have passed the test with flying colours”

         “I’m Web-witch, your spells show you cannot be a Dark Witch, but we are of the Light, we work for Good. And your heart was in the right place; you neither tried to do physical harm nor delighted in it when it happened”

         The third one, with short-cropped black bangs also spoke up, “I’m Ariana – the Witch from the East. No lasting harm was done dear. We easily took off the parrot beak and made the three think it was just a vivid afternoon dream. The boy has enough memory left to fear bullying his sister and the mother will be thankful for it.”

         “Now, would like to join our group? You can take it as slow or as fast as you want; for a month you will be given newbie status and ‘mentored’ by any or all of the others. This cat is obviously drawn to you; if he deems it fit he will become your familiar.”

         Shania drew the purring gray ball closer to her body and gloried in how - familiar - he felt. She would name him Night-Mist, Misty for short.

         Shania’s head was nodding vigorously even as the explanations were being made. This seemed like the best avenue for her aspirations.

         All three linked arms with her and as they whisked her off to their home – WDC they called it – they were already advising her on suitable attire. They knew just the on-site shop to get gray hoodies like theirs - comfortable for the weather and gray was the new pink it seemed.


Written for Acme's Comedy Scream One-Shots:
Short Story: 1997 words

First, apologies to those all the witchily kind souls who have only made me feel so much at home on-site - I hijacked your names without your permission - Sorry! Witches and friends, this is meant as a tribute, please take it as one. Especially WW, I would not be here but for her kind words to me as newbie! That was about three centuries ago!