Madam Grey

Madam Grey
By Fraunc J. H.

         One frosty morning in… (Someplace yet to be disclosed,) the witch called Madam Grey got up from her four-poster bed only to realize that she was getting old.
         Now normally one would think of almost all witches as stereotypically being ugly old hags, who flew around on equally ugly old broomsticks. This imagery wasn't that far from being correct. After all most witch’s were older than younger; and it wasn't that often that many of the younger ones were serious enough about their craft to be truly considered more than silly little pretenders. Old as the idea was brooms still hadn’t gone out of style. It was just a lot harder to find the right kind. A real witch wouldn’t be caught dead on some of the garish “new” designs that were out there now. They weren’t even made from the proper materials anymore. Honestly who‘d ever heard of a metal witches broom with plastic bristles!
         Course some witch’s had settled for less conservative means of travel. The whole flying carpet thing had been real popular a while back. It still didn’t sit well with her, how younger witches were trying out those so called “modern” self propelling carriages. Automo-whats or some such like that. The thought of a transport that thought for itself wasn‘t good; brooms and rugs developed enough personality quirks without being in control. Even the ones that weren't thought of as witches that practiced the other kind of magic floating out of the sky in shinny pink bubbles had more sense in transportation than the younger generations.
         Godmothers aged too, but their magic was a little kinder on their visage. All this aside Madam Grey was getting old in the sense that most of her age group "147 and up" had graduated to another plane, been caught and burned, drowned, or chopped up in the witch trials, or met with some other unfortunate end.
         Madam Grey had known the whole build a house of candy in a magic forest to entice unsuspecting children to become your next meal was trouble the moment she heard the idea. The first week it was advertised plenty of other witches had already bought a twenty year contract for rights to magical forest property, like the idea was a stroke of genius. In that same week large purchases of baking ingredients were made by a bunch of little old ladies dressed in dark clothing with peculiar pointy hats.
         “Building materials.” They‘d say when asked by the sales clerk what the sudden run on baking goods was all about. What usually happened was that a witch would get greedy and build to close to a village. Not long after the first few vanished the kids would wise up, developing, the hit and run tactic. 
         The idea was just plain awful. Build to close and they'd eat you out of house and home. Build to far away and the larger animals and pests tended to develop a taste for gingerbread and wicked persons.
         In all honesty the places were just to much work to keep up for the amount of repairs you had to do on the exterior. The thing was “Building materials” (such as flour, salt, molasses, ginger, brown and white sugar, candy and other ingredients) got expensive, even when you bought in bulk.

         Getting out of bed had become a chore, and once again Madam Grey considered rescheduling her appointment with Death for an earlier date. November of next decade might be nice. She could get a brake on the rates too since it would be right after peek season what with Halloween and all. Maybe some slots would open up with some last minute back outs. Yes maybe if some one decided to skip their appointment, that could work. But then again probably not. Death was over booked as it was, what with all the kids doing that new step off a high place instant appointment thing; Sue-ice-sides, or some such. Standing up Madam Grey went about dressing herself in the usual dark floor length dress. today’s color would be deep dark bottom of the ocean floors very extra dark green.
         Madam Grey prided herself on her excellent tastes in color, although to a commoner it would probably look black. grabbing the tinder box from over the mantle of the brick fireplace/oven, Madam Grey knelt down to light the fire for her morning tea. Unlike the witches of younger generations, who did most everything by magic, Madam Grey stuck to the old ways of don't use magic unless you absolutely must. Trouble with magic was that it was a fickle thing which always went with the one most likely to win a battle or survive. It would be loyal as long as the user was strong and capable, but if the user was weak and reliant then it could abandon them when they really needed it. A true witch didn't need magic to achieve her ends.
         This was the other side of magic. It needed someone to believe in it to survive so it favored those who needed it for a time but turned on them if ever they had a doubt.
         In magic’s opinion a dead believer was better than a living doubter, because the dead believer wouldn’t be able to change there mind, at least not to the effect of it having consequences. Unlike the live one that could do all sorts of damage doubting unto Deaths door. That’s just how a witches magic worked, unlike wizards and godmothers who used wands and the like Witches actually had to believe. That’s why it was better to be able to do without. That way you could take or leave magic and it couldn’t successfully bring about your demise. It left magic having to respect and bend to those who didn't need it, or risk them turning from it and not believing. Being an Anthropomorphic personification was like that.

         The dull chime of the clock on the mantelpiece chimed seven times announcing the hour, while Madam Grey saw to blowing on last nights coals to get things alight. Once some flames were stirring again. She stood back up to hobble to the kitchen counter of her small two room house. Two rooms was really all you needed in Madam Grey’s opinion. In her time you were lucky if the house you were in had a changing screen. Going about her morning business Madam Grey absently set out her favorite tea set before going for the tea leaves. It was at this point that she discovered they’d gone and run out on her yet again. Tea leaves had a way of doing that when she was around. “Oh well.” She said replacing the tea tin on the shelf, pretending that it wasn’t going to get to her. “I‘ll just have to get some while I‘m out today…” Truth be told it was already getting her in a cranky mood. “Put that on the list Lily!” she shouted in the direction of the cat door none to happily.

         A black and white long haired cat with a crooked tail poked her head in the door giving a cranky meow that older cat’s tended to develop. Lily had been a human once, however she’d never had much of a head for listening to precautions or reading warning labels. The girl might have been some one by now if not for that flaw, but when a bad summoning charm backfired… Well it hadn’t ended well for Lily. Why the cat stuck around Madam Grey at all after what had happened was due in part to the poor girl not having any where else to go. Plus on the good days Madam Grey could usually pull off a six to eight hour rectification of the cat problem. They just hadn’t found a way to make it permanent. The cat could already tell by the fact of her missing her morning tea that today would not be one of Madam Grey’s good day’s.