Everyday Witches

Sometimes it seemed like the entirety of Cass’s life so far had been based on a dream. She had been thirteen when the vision had come, and it had affected and shaped the future ever since. Her mother had been thrilled, if not a little apprehensive at the contents.

“My mother had the sight,” she had said excitedly. “And your father’s grandmother. These things usually follow in a family line, so it is only fitting that it has come to you.”

She had gathered Cass up in a warm rush of flowing skirts and heady perfume, holding her tightly to her breast and rubbing gentle circles on her back. Cass had been excited and proud for a time, but eventually the novelty had worn off, and the ominous portents of the vision’s contents overwhelmed the rite of passage she had achieved.

She had been sleeping soundly, the night in question, and had woken to a world that made her question whether she were still dreaming. It was an unfamiliar land, full of rolling hills, dotted with trees and wildflowers she didn’t know the names of. The sun had burned low and orange and the air had been cool. She had been standing knee deep in a stream, scrubbing away at the laundry while the rest of the clan sat close by in their meadow camp. The adults were gathered around a campfire, sipping coffee and singing wistful old tunes. The children had been running around, bare footed, playing tag in the tall grass.

It had been a day like any other, until the raiders had come. A horn had sounded from somewhere close by, followed by the thundering sound of many heavy hoofs upon the ground. She had dropped the blouse she was washing into the stream and run wildly up to the meadow camp, where the lazy atmosphere of bonhomie had quickly turned to panic. Elders ran around, scooping up children and tossing them into the tents for safety. A girl who’s mother had gone into town, leaving her alone, cried shrilly by the campfire and Cass had picked her up and held her on one hip, shading her eyes with one hand as she peered off into the distance.

Over the hills had come a frightening hoard, men on horseback in strange, flowing garb with mighty shields. Giant creatures with long noses the size of legs, carrying bow and arrow wielding warriors on their backs. A giant bird like creature swooped low to breathe fire upon the land, igniting a blaze that raced ahead of the coming army.

The elders had discussed this final image at length and decided that it must be metaphorical. Although visions among the Romani were common and respected, flying birds that breathed fire were not. It had been determined that while the omen seemed credible, the events that would unfold were yet to be determined.

The Romani were gypsies; a nomadic people who were known for being lovers, and creative expressionists, and often thieves. But they were not warriors. The threatening vision, while celebrated for the gift itself, had unsettled their little community of wanderers and changed the face of daily life for them all. The little tribe now spent its travels seeking knowledge of what was to come and preparing for the eventuality that had shown itself to Cass. They traveled in search of knowledge, clairvoyant as well as strategic defense; never knowing whether they were successfully running from the danger or running towards it.

In the six years since the initial vision, Cass had not been visited with any more large portents of future events, but a bit of clairvoyance had remained. Now, at the burgeoning age of nineteen, she knew which merchants would be trustworthy and which ones would be hiding a bunch of overripe fruit at the bottom of the baskets they offered for sale. And she always knew when to trust Milosh’s assurances that they could get away with whatever hijinks he had planned. In their travels and endless searches she was respected and often asked to give an opinion on the verity of a claim, an esteem usually reserved for the elders alone.

And although it wasn’t a bad life, Cass often lamented the omen’s influence on her clan. Romani were naturally carefree, boisterous and loud, impulsive and fun. But after the omen had come, a wariness had settled over them, dampening the vivacious spirit of their little group. Cass still raised her fiddle with the other musicians in the town squares they visited, but they all waited unconsciously for the other shoe to drop.

Milosh was the least affected by the frightening prediction and Cass thought that perhaps that was the thing she admired the most about him. He was a skilled pick pocket and was always bringing her little trinkets and planning excursions to the parts of the city that her mother had forbidden her to visit. And she was the only boy she had ever kissed. But Romani eyes wandered as surely as their feet and Cass hadn’t ventured further down the lover’s path than that. If there came a time that she felt ready to start a family, Milosh would be an excellent choice, but she didn’t see any rush.

Today, she and Milosh were visiting the town square, while the rest of the tribe prepared for a feast that was planned for this evening. She had been tasked with earning a little bit of money and to bring back some bread to go along with the meat that the elders were stewing. Cass loved outings like these, where she and Milosh could get away from the group for a little while. He taught her how to steal from even the shrewdest of marks and she taught him how to listen to his heart. Halfway to the town square, Milosh took a detour onto a neighboring farm, climbing up onto a bale of hay and patting the spot next to him.

“C’mon Cass, let’s take a load off for a minute. There’s no rush.”

Cass blushed and climbed up onto the bale next to him, gathering her faded skirts and draping them around her legs. She carefully set her violin case on the straw beside her.

“We have to make sure to be home in time for dinner,” she said quietly, plucking at a strand of hay that stuck out of the bale beside her.

“We’ll be home in time for dinner. Don’t worry.” Milosh gave her one of his lopsided grins that made his eyes sparkle like polish onyx.

“Tell me again how to make the visions come,” he added, with reverence.

Cass sighed. “It’s not as easy as all that,” she began. “You just have to be open to the possibility. It’ll find you when the time is right, if you have the gift. But let’s try some breathing exercises.”

Milosh nodded and closed his eyes. He had a smudge of dirt on one lid and Cass reached over to gently wipe it off. It was Milosh’s turn to blush a bit, and he quickly changed the subject.

“Remember when we were kids and the only thing we had to worry about was what kind of breakfast we wanted?”

Cass sighed again. “Yeah, I remember. It seemed like things would never change. And now our days are eaten up by picking pockets and seeking visions.”

Milosh put a hand over his forehead and thrust the other one out to the side, dramatically. “I’ve had an epiphany,” he exclaimed.

Cass swatted him playfully. “Milosh, you’re an idiot.” She made a funny face at him, widening her eyes and contorting her mouth. “It doesn’t work like that. You have to weigh the visions. Determine the truth behind them.”

Milosh grinned and gave a little laugh. “Yeah. Yeah. But. Hear me out. What if we were to leave this place? Just take out of here and go find a better life, just the two of us?”

Cass froze. “It doesn’t work like that. We’re Romani. We wander, and make music, and steal for a living. What would we do?”

Milosh grinned again, his dark hair falling over one eye. He reached up to brush it off. “Whatever we wanted. What are we waiting for? The ax to fall?”

Cass thought of all the Romani women she had seen, waddling around with their swollen, life filled bellies; a gaggle of wayward children in tow, and no father to be found. There was hardly ever a father to be found. In her clan, spirits ran free and the children were raised by the collective. What would they do if they were to leave? But Milosh was different. And she was different. The visions didn’t change that. She had always wanted more than this life had to give. She just didn’t know exactly what.

“I don’t know,” she began. “Perhaps…”

The sudden sound of trumpets rang out in the not too far distance, and the thundering sound of many feet tromping the ground rose and grew louder. Cass looked around in shock. The meadow, the hills. There was no laundry, but the elders were gathered around the campfire preparing for the feast. She leaped from the hay bale and pulled her violin case down, sliding the leather strap over her shoulder. She grabbed Milosh’s hand and began to run towards the village. It was then that she noticed the black dots coming over the hill on the other side of the farm. More and more of them appeared, until the fields were as black as a mold covered leaf. They were here. The threat she had seen coming all those years ago.

*Author’s note*

Every story has a small kernel of truth, and I came up with this one in a roundabout way. I have been spending lots of time lately caring for my bonus grandma, who my grandfather remarried later in life, after my grandmother died. This final chapter of life is unbelievably difficult for her and since she was such a blessing to my grandfather at the end of his life, I am grateful to be able to return the favor for her.

In caring for her I’ve often found myself thinking of my grandmother before her. I loved her dearly and although she died when I was a teenager, she had a tremendous influence on my life. She was an incredible artist and craftsman as well as so many other things that are dear to me now as well.

When I was sixteen years old, I was visiting a theme park with a friend for her birthday. We stayed overnight, along with her family and when I woke up the next morning I had the strangest sensation that something had happened to my grandma. This was before we all had cell phones so I couldn’t text her to check on her, but when I came home the next day my parents told me that she had died.

I certainly don’t believe that I’m psychic, but I do believe that there is so much to this world that we just don’t understand or fully perceive. The really strange thing is that when I told my parents this story I found out that my father had had a similar incident with my grandmother (his mother) as well.

When he was a young adult, he woke up from sleeping with the burning assurance that something had happened to his mother. He hopped in the car and drove home to find that she had had a terrible car accident. She was badly injured and it ended up changing the trajectory of her entire life. I’m told that she was never quite the same afterwards.

Sometimes events happen that are beyond our knowledge and completely unexplainable. I don’t think that clairvoyance explains this situation, but I do believe in something greater than man himself that exists alongside us, at times influencing our lives.

And although this short story I wrote is not at all based on the event, I thought that a story based on a spark of psychic intuition would be interesting. I hope you enjoyed the story and the story behind the story!

If you’d like to read some more shorts, you can find them at-Odds & Ends

For a full length novel based on a world of witches, check out- Everyday Witches: chapter listing