Little Witches

Estelle had long ago given up magic for the conveniences of technology. Scares lined her arms from struggling to get Screeching Scarabs into the right caldron and from dealing with self-righteous cats refusing to be familiars. And how many promised first born sons did she have to trek across the country to whisk away after the parents reneged on a blood oath? Magic was a hassle, flipping a switch in comparison was a charmed lifestyle. She was glad to leave it and that world behind decades ago.

It was Tuesday, and ever since giving up magic there was always something peculiar about Tuesdays, but Estelle could not figure out why and in her old age she gave up trying. Some things were just naturally odd. She snapped open “Tuesday” on her pill organizer and took the five prescribed pills.

One for cholesterol, another for hypertension, another for Vitamin C, one for arthritis that’s been aching her wrists something fierce the last few years, and one more for whatever reason she can’t remember. If she stopped taking any of them, her family would howl like Minnesotan Werewolves, and they’ve been known to get loud.

Down went Tuesday with a glass of cold water tinkling with ice cubes. Estelle’s fingers weren’t quite working as they normally would, she’d have to ask the doctor about that issue later.

She busied herself with the usual morning rituals. Pluck her teeth out of Listerine, master her hair from chaos, put on a face and a comfortable robe. She made a face. The robe must’ve shrunk some in the drier, her ankles could feel the AC. In the living room Estelle walked over to the corner with a spray bottle, “Here’s your morning cup of joe, Bernice.” She said to her peace lilly, a few weeks from full bloom. “And I know you take yours decaf, Mr. Edwards.” A spurtz on the aloe vera plant basking in the morning sun. Plant by plant she watered in the house, until she finally turned on her faded red AM/FM radio she’d had since the mid-70s.

Ambling around in the kitchen with pictures of her daughter and granddaughter randomly scattered on the walls and framed sitting up on countertops, she pulled out her strawberries she cut up last night and – with a little smirk – dashed it with the good whipped cream. Among the static and ads of the radio Estelle enjoyed for the background noise (and loud enough her neighbors regularly asked to turn the volume down. Her hearing wasn’t what it once was), one word caught her attention.

Krrrrrrccchhhhhhhh witches krrrrrrrccccchhhhhhh

“Witches” She said to the air. “Witches?” Estelle put down her bowl of strawberries and rushed to the radio, turning the contraption up within deafening range to anyone but her.

…as though Witches are suddenly growing. Not in popularity this time, but physically growing larger for no…

Someone was knocking on the door with enough vigor to take the whole thing down.

“I’ll turn it down when I’m good and ready!” She yelled over her shoulder.

…nearly forgotten sect of Witchcraft still has a few living members – the Witches Helping American Talent, the organization that helps the remaining witches in the country, said they do not know what…

“I said in just a minute! If I…”

“Grandma! You’ve got to turn down your radio!” The little girl – not little, Estelle had to remind herself, Sara was nearly seventeen years old – whizzed around Estelle and turned the radio down to a whisper. “This is plenty loud enough even for you! You can’t damage your hearing more than you already have.”

“I just thought there was something interesting on the radio. Here,” Estelle grabbed the bowl on the teal countertop, “Have some strawberries and cream.” She looked Sara straight in the eyes, which was unusual in itself. Hadn’t she had to look up at Sara for the last few years? She’ll have to ask the doctor about memory now, great.

“And cream? Are you treating yourself today?” Sara plucked a strawberry and tossed it in her mouth, eyeing her grandma up and down.

“I treat myself every day. I’ve earned it. I’m old. You’ll understand one day.”

“Grandma?” Sara said.

“Yes, child.” She dipped a slice into extra cream.

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

Estelle dropped the strawberry and it fell to the floor, sending tiny bits of cream over her slippers.

“A witch? One of those? What gives you that – “

“Grandma. It’s kind of an open secret. You’re…” Sara fished around for the right word, “odd.” She was never very tactful. “And then there’s the news today.”

“A load of hogwash I can assure you. Can never be too sure what those WHATs are up to these days.”

“You’ve grown two inches! You’re as tall as I am, Grandma.”

“Next you’ll say, Oh, Grandma-ma, what big eyes you have!” Estelle mocked a fairytale voice – but it came out more Snow White Evil Queen.

“At least you’re taking care of your teeth. No, look, come here.” She grabbed Estelle’s hand with surprising tenderness and led her back to the living room. The morning sun sent beams across the room, hitting the plants and bisecting decorations on the walls, little trinkets that everyone except Estelle found just a little odd. Sara sat Estelle down on the couch that had – until recently – still been covered in plastic wrap.

“Grandma,” Sara started, “I know the family doesn’t really talk about it, and I understand why.”

“Sara, please, I don’t know why you think –“

Sara put up a hand. “It’s ok. And, well, for the last few months I’ve… well…” again she paused for the right words. “I’ve been talking to my cat.”

“A cat?!” Estelle would’ve jumped out of the couch if her knees were up to up. “Never talk to cats! They don’t’ know anything about anything and –“

Sara smiled. Estelle fell silent for a moment. Just a brief moment. Then returned the smile.

“Sara.” The old woman said, now feeling those extra two inches of height. “Sara. We thought our kind were finished. Done for. Are you saying…”

“I think I’m a witch, too. And I would like to learn.”

The sunlit room fell into darkness without a cloud in the sky. The temperature dropped and silence permeated the room like a fog.

Estelle’s smile broadened. “It had been a long time. A long time. I’ve been lost in the conveniences of this modern world. But maybe. Maybe. It is time.”