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    The Witch
    The Witch
    The Witch
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    The Witch

    By Salem Williams

    ()

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    About this ebook

    In a little, backwoods town, a young, single mother practices her craft of herbalism in order to support herself and her child. Most of the County accepts her and values her help. But when accusations of witchcraft begin to stir and business drops, Sera has to face her greatest fears. Will she continue to try to live in the shadows? Or will she take the power that is hers? And which choice will cost her her child and their family home?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherYvonne Harbin - Publishing
    Release dateOct 17, 2019
    ISBN9780463300640
    The Witch
    Author

    Salem Williams

    Salem Williams, often called a free spirit, likes boots, singing, swimming, good conversation, and three seasons (spring, summer, autumn)) up close and considers winter to be best experienced as "a beautiful view from the window".Her favorite people have always been small children and "old people", because, she says, "They are the most fascinating and tell the best stories!"

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      Book preview

      The Witch - Salem Williams

      The Witch

      COPYRIGHT 2019 by Salem Williams

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      Published by Yvonne Harbin Publishing at Smashwords

      This is a work of fiction.

      Pure fiction.

      Believe it, or not.

      :)

      Thank you, Rachel Ashford, Darlene Sitz,and Beverly Berry, for proof-reading and advising, thank you to my family for putting up with repeated readings while I worked, and thank you to everyone else for being who you are...my inspiration!

      ~ Salem

      The Ritual

      We trod solemnly down the dirt path into the cemetery. Old Mary was a beautiful sight, as her shimmering silver figure stepped out of the edge of the forest. Her white hair flowed down her back, lifting occasionally in the gentle breeze. She was a vision...a beautiful, 91-year-old vision, gliding effortlessly through the night, despite the torn earth beneath our feet. As Mary took her place behind the headstone, her voice was clear and strong;

      We come out here tonight, 'cos Old Wander was a creature of nature. We know the church folk did their best yesterday, but seein' as he didn't think like them, they couldn't do him justice in their buryin'. Y'see, Wander saw what others didn't. Wander gave where others looked away. And Old Wander always spoke the truth! So here we are, to speak the truth of him, like any other child of nature, and to give him one more gift of love. Join your hands.

      Our small band formed a circle of people, as Old Mary set her lantern on the headstone of the newly-filled grave. The lamp wasn't needed in the full moon light, but it was proper. Slowly she walked around our circle of friends, one arm raised, finger pointing at the sky, the other pointing down at the earth, and her voice was clear as crystal.

      "All around you I walk, a circle of love I bind,

      every one standing here, one heart and one mind,

      everything below like everything above,

      let everything within us be everything of love."

      Her words gave a little peace to my watchful mind. I wanted to be here, but I was nervous. I had spent the day having to tell myself repeatedly that no one would notice us in the dead of night. I let go my little Trina's hand and Old Mary smiled sadly and joined our circle.

      Some say they's a god in heaven an a devil on earth. An here, ever'thin' on earth has a mama and a daddy. Same one's say we're made in god's image an' that there's only one. Alright, then. There's one. And we're part of it. And it's our mama and our daddy. And Old Wander's going to live with Mama and Daddy for a while, til he's ready to come back here. That's easy enough to understand. Right, Trina?

      Trina's little golden pony tails bobbed up and down, as she smiled in agreement. I felt this was a wonderful way to teach my daughter about the never-ending circle of Life and Death.

      Addressing the mound of earth below her feet, Old Mary went on...

      Wander, we come to say we love you. It bein' a traveler's moon, I guess it's as good a time as any to say goodbye. But just for a spell; we'll see you when you get back. Your dog, Clayton's, gonna come live with me 'til then an' I'm leaving my lantern to guide your way through the night, not that you'll need it with that ole Moon lookin' down so big. An' just so you know, we'll be leaving this Circle of Love around your restin' place when we turn to go. It's been a good, long life. We'll miss you while you're gone.

      One by one, we each said goodbye. When the last of us had finished speaking, we closed together over the grave, holding each other. Then, in unison, as if there were some invisible cue, we chanted, Merry we met and merry we part, for merry we'll meet again! Then we turned and gently began trudging our way back up the winding cemetery trail to the iron-gated entrance.

      We had almost reached the gate when I felt chills go up and down my arms. I had the feeling we were being watched. All I wanted was to get to the privacy and secure feeling of my home, but Mary stopped at the gate. Instead of leading our procession out, she looked back toward the edge of the small woods. She was sharp as an owl and, although I kept walking, I followed her gaze...straight to a pair of blinking, dodging eyes peering from the edge of the trees. Human eyes. As the last of us passed through the gate, I looked back at Old Mary. We both looked for the shadowy figure once more. It was gone. ~*~

      Suspicion

      In silence, our small entourage trudged up the hill. I could feel the uneasiness worming its way through everyone's thoughts.

      I don't like it. Old Mary tapped the side of the wooden door frame with her twisted staff, as she gingerly stepped into the front hall of my old home place. The house was over 200 years old and had been in the family for generations.

      One-by-one, we entered the big house with the same gesture of respect for the Threshold Guardian.

      There was a restlessness nearby...did you feel it? I asked Mary, as we headed to the kitchen.

      Trina, ever my happy little hostess, began ushering folks to what she deemed their correct places to sit around my grandparents' glossy mahogany dining table.

      Old Mary leaned her staff just inside the kitchen doorway, her brow studiously furrowed. Oh, I know what that was. What I don't like is the way the police just marked him off, dead, to natural causes. Hmmph! Everybody knows they ain't nothing natural about a man like Wander just up and dropping dead!

      I paused, holding a tray of moon cakes in my hands. Do you know what the restlessness was?

      Sure. Somebody was watching us from the brush. I saw 'em. She might as well have said there's a leaf on the lawn, so what? "What bothers me is there wasn't a mark on Old Wander nowhere, an' unless you can tell me otherwise, he wasn't sick a day in his life. Man like that don't just fall down dead." Mary took the tray from me, indicating the punch cups still waiting on the kitchen table.

      Well, I began, I know it shouldn't, but it worries me. I don't need any trouble. Trina's starting kindergarten this year and I know how this town is.

      Mary cut a sharp look in my direction. As within, so without. You need to work on that!

      I picked up the loaded punch cup tray. "I know. I've just never been good at sticking up for myself and knowing I was still being right with others. And that's before the bully-factor weighs in."

      Old Mary's face crinkled into a gentle smile. Sery, you'll be fine. Just think to dare. Then she winked and walked away.

      As we joined the group in the company room, Larry Maker looked up from his seat and, just as if he had been part of the conversation from the beginning, added, "I say it was foul play!" The entire company was nodding and murmuring in agreement.

      Little Trina was still enjoying playing hostess, quickly filling cups to be passed around. She made a great presentation of the bright red cups of punch to each guest in turn. Finishing, she jumped off the chair she'd been standing on. Old Mary shooed my five-year-old off to play, along with her guests, Carley and Jeremiah.

      Larry thumped a deck of Tarot cards down on the table, tapping them as he spoke. You wanna find out? His bushy eyebrows rose a full inch above their usual location.

      I took my place at the head of the table, placing both hands steadily down on it's ornate edging. I tried not to show the full level of my concern.

      Old Mary saw someone watching us from the woods. Our guts say there's more going on than meets the eye. So I'm going to propose we spend some time reminiscing about Uncle Wander. That's what a wake is for - celebrating the life of those who pass through the veil. Then, when we're really in touch with him, I'll turn the cards.

      For the next hour, tales and laughter spun about the table, occasionally punctuated with some heartfelt anecdote that demonstrated the warmth we all felt for Old

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