She was looking for the perfect stone. She needed one that was clearly heart shaped. If it was pinkish in color that would be a great bonus, but that wasn't really necessary. As she walked the trail through the woods she kept coming across discarded pumpkins. They hadn't been brought there and smashed, just left, so her guess was someone leaving them for the animals in the forest to have a snack and not from a group of rowdy teenagers grabbing and smashing jack-o-lanterns on Halloween night.
She was glad to be done with Halloween. It was such a frustrating holiday. Unlike most of her sisters she didn't resent the misrepresentation. The green faces, the hooked noses, the warts. She honestly liked those costumes better than the influx of "Sexy Witch" that started with the teen set. Those set her teeth on edge. Patriarchy in action in the most inappropriate place.
But no, what she really hated was the question asked of the little girls dressed up in costume, "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Or more correctly the question asked of the girls who chose "Pretty Witch" the precursor to "Sexy Witch." Nobody ever asked the green faced, wart nosed ones if they were good or bad. People just assumed they knew.
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"
"Well, that depends on what you mean now doesn't it?" She would think to herself.
"I'm a very good witch. I can do things that would curl your toes.
Literally.
If I set my mind to it I could curl your toes. Permanently."
But then wouldn't that make them think she was a bad witch? Curses are in the bad witch territory. What do good witches do? Well steal shoes and withhold information if The Wizard of Oz was any indication. But what people wanted good witches to do was act like Fairy Godmothers. Go around granting wishes or doling out love potions. And now, of course, there were the "wiccans." Gods save her from the wiccans! They were all about saying that witches weren't what people imagined them to be. No broomsticks. No spells. No cats.
Well maybe cats.
They did still like cats.
But they were nature lovers really. Just intune with the goddess. Got a horrible reputation that isn't true at all.
Bullshit.
She hated them more than the Sexy Witches puking in planters near the college in the early hours of November 1.
Wiccans.
Save us all.
She was a witch. A good witch. A really good witch. Her mother had been a good witch, her grandmother had been a good witch. Her great grandmother. On and on down the line. Good witches all of them. To be perfectly honest they were closer to great than good. Not a single one of them with a hooked nose, a wart or a strategically cut out costume with a completely impractical tutu skirt.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again she saw exactly the stone she had been looking for. Heart shaped, pink veining throughout. This would work perfectly. Tonight she would cast the spell her client had asked for, one to harden her heart to her ex. The one that kept coming back around and convincing her to take him back. The one that had cheated, lied, stole from her, not just physical things but her self esteem. Tonight she would create a talisman that would help her to see him as he was, not how he kept convincing her he would be. Then she would be free of him.
She would also add, free of charge, a little bonus action. Some retribution for him. Something so others would see him as he was as well. Maybe a few warts.
Are you a good witch or a bad witch?
Depends on who's asking.
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