Everyday Witches

*Author’s Note* Reading all of these ghost stories again has gotten me inspired to try out a creepy pasta of my own. Since the book is done, I’ve been wanting to try out some different styles of writing, but also to give a little more story line to some of the more minor characters from the book. Sarah- Jeff’s sister was my absolute favorite character from the book, even though she only had a bit part. I put a lot of detail into her character for such a small role and I hope to bring her back in a sequel at some point, but right now I’ve decided just to give her a little story of her own. So I’ve channeled my inner Anne Rice via a Mayfair Witches- worthy short story here.

The child was one of those truly beautiful, androgynous types. The kind you usually only see before the machinations of hormones work to alter the landscape of a person. Large liquid eyes, of a wonderfully deep chocolate brown. A chin length fringe of silky, black hair that shone like onyx when the light caressed its surface. Their skin was a creamy cafe au lait that looked like it had yet to see a blemish of any sort. And the facial features were symmetrical and pleasing to the eye, without being overly masculine or feminine. But the most interesting thing about them was the shadowy haze that surrounded their form, shifting like smoke every time they moved. It wasn’t an aura per se, but it was definitely something.

Sarah had been watching surreptitiously for the better part of a quarter hour as the child’s mother browsed the shop for crystals and incense, and the child paced the aisles restlessly. She stood behind the counter that housed the cash register and a few of the little baubles that the local hippies loved. Her head rested gently in the cradle of her hands, elbows braced on the counter top. She shifted her gaze to the mother, admiring her lithe gracefulness as the woman lifted a bundle of incense sticks from the cylindrical holder and waved them gently in front of her face to test the scent. Her rust brown sari rippled with the movement, reminiscent of the flowy bohemian style skirts Sarah herself loved.

There was something about the two of them that piqued her interest, aside from the shadowy lining around the child. They obviously weren’t witches. The mother didn’t have an aura like anyone Sarah had ever seen. But there was some kind of unfamiliar magic to them. The mother, having selected the fragrances she preferred from the incense rack, stuffed the sticks into one of the little baggies Sarah provided for the purpose, and drifted down the aisle in search of the child.

Sarah’s eyes widened and she grinned, noticing that while she had been watching the mother, the child had climbed up beneath a table housing a display of locally made, herb infused soaps. The child giggled as well as they shifted around beneath the table, while the mother scanned the shop aisles for them.

Sarah cleared her throat, softly, and when she got the mother’s attention she put a hand to the side of her face, motioning discreetly towards the table in question. The mother sighed and nodded in thanks and then moved gracefully towards the indicated table; bending to the ground to peer up beneath the faded table cloth. A musical tinkling sounded as her silver anklet shifted around a slim calf and she reached a hand to rub absently at the spot.

The child burst into laughter as the mother laid a delicate hand on their shoulder and nudged them towards the front of the store. While the child laughed however, the dark haze that surrounded them coalesced; as if the child had just moved from a place of sunlit clarity into some strange shadowy depth. It was both beautiful and frightening to behold.

The child crawled out from beneath the table, standing and wiping the dust from their knees and then followed behind the mother as she made her way across the store to pay for her purchases. She approached the counter behind which Sarah stood and set the incense and a large piece of uncut quartz onto the counter between them.

“Will this be all,” Sarah asked, her voice soft and melodious.

The mother responded in heavily accented, broken English; the words taking a back seat to the smoky timber of her own voice. Sarah began to type the prices into the cash register and then paused. Sneaking a glance at the child, she reached a hand below the counter, to the shelf that housed the really important items she didn’t keep out on the general sales floor. She brought out a small, mottled stone and set it on the counter with a gentle click.

“What is this,” the mother asked, alarmed. She waved a hand and shook her head, indicating that she wasn’t willing to purchase anything else.

“It’s okay,” Sarah replied hastily. “You don’t have to buy it. I just thought that you might be interested, since you were buying the quartz.

She picked up the stone again and rolled it gently between her fingers, reveling in the clean feel of the cleansing stone. It was a round piece of impactite, known among witches for its ability to clear energy blockages and to dissipate negative energy. She was curious whether the powerful little stone would have any impact on the strange cloud of energy that surrounded the child. She rolled it along until she held it between her forefinger and thumb and then held it out towards the fascinating little one.

“Would you like to hold it,” she asked. “It has many useful properties.”

The child nodded and looked up at their mother for permission. The mother looked closely at Sarah as if scrutinizing her countenance for any ulterior motive. When she was satisfied she looked back at the child and nodded, almost imperceptibly. The child made a little sound of glee and held out a small hand that had not yet lost the roundness of youth. Sarah smiled and dropped the stone into their hand.

As it landed among the folded skin of the little hand, the stone appeared to vibrate momentarily and the hazy form around the child intensified once again; as if a dark cloud had just moved across the sun. Sarah’s eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back. She watched as the amorphous form coalesced into the shape of a man, superimposed over the smaller form of the child.

The mother inhaled sharply, and Sarah turned to look at her in surprise. She hadn’t thought that the woman had been aware of the shadows existence. Only witches were able to see natural auras, and she had assumed that it would be the same with whatever this was. But the woman definitely had some magic of her own and was obviously in tune with it somehow as well.

The women’s eyes met and they shared a moment of understanding before the mother reached into her purse, pulling out a few bills from its satiny depths and tossing them on the counter. She gathered up the bag of incense and the quartz stone and tried to take the piece of impactite from her child’s hand.

The woman’s fingers clasped around the stone but then slipped off, as if it were somehow hard to grasp. The stone remained cupped in the child’s hand. She tried again, this time digging her finger in under the stone and attempting to lift it out. The stone rose slowly in her grip, but it seemed as if some force of gravity were attempting to hold it tight to the child’s hand. As she forcefully removed the stone from the child’s grasp, the strange aura flared darkly again. Dark, ghostly tendrils rose from around the child’s back, wrapping like arms around their small body and enveloping them in a momentary haze that quickly dissipated. Then nothing remained but the vague outline that had been there originally.

The mother turned to go but Sarah reached a hand across the counter and placed it gently on the woman’s bare shoulder. The woman glanced back at her impatiently, her kohl lined eyes narrowed. Sarah just looked at her, letting her gaze flick to the child and then back to the mother. She didn’t know what kind of magic this family was in to but it certainly wasn’t the green Earth magic she was familiar with. She didn’t know what to say but she also didn’t want to leave things this way.

The mother looked at her steadily and a frown flitted over her face and quickly disappeared. She shook her head in the distinctively Indian manner. Then she placed an arm around her child’s shoulders and turned to leave.

Sarah picked up the stone as the mother and child traced the aisle back towards the door. She rolled it around in her hand once more, hoping to dispel the negative energies that had emerged in the strange encounter. She watched as the mother pushed open the shop door, stepping delicately across the threshold. And she swore that before the child disappeared from view, the ghostly image of a darkened hand emerged from the swirling miasma and waved.