The witch’s gift

Once upon a time Missy took me to Badacsony to celebrate the end of the year, and to welcome the new one.

The train ride was long, boring, even my usual adoring audience didn’t make it much better.

“She’s so quiet!”

Duh, I know how to behave. Besides, the song of my people is not for everyone.

“She’s so gorgeous!”

I never get tired hearing this. I never get tired sharing my beauty with others either.

But when we arrived, the air was fresh, new smells awaited to be discovered, new tales to sniff, new walks to take.

It was on one of these walks that I saw her as the Witch.

Missy took me to the forest and true to our adventurous spirit (she calls it the OCD of not taking the same route back) we took a path that soon merged into the forest floor.

It was a sunny day, the ground still cold, soft but not too soft, easy to walk. I could still smell the big horses we passed on the edge of the forest, the cows on the field next to them but closer there was so much life, so many smells, I couldn’t decide which to follow.

Missy was nervous, too, so I often returned to her, reassuring her that everything was fine, there was no danger, she could relax. It was always a better walk when she was calm, nature is very perceptive, reflects the mood of witches. If she’s happy, the forest shines in brilliant light. If she’s anxious, it vibrates unexpectedly, branches break, stones roll under her step.

The mood got darker as we snaked our way upward, the nervous cracks in the air started to worry me.

Then Missy stopped, one hand on a tree, the other on her knee as she bent forward. She took a deep breath, straightened her back and released her nervous energy in a thick, red beam upwards, breaking them into little pieces of shiny stars. Another breath pulled in the energy of the forest under her feet, of the tree under her hands and she breathed out a warm, green cloud, absorbing the red stars, removing them from the air, leaving nothing but good vibrations.

Missy smiled without knowing what happened. She just felt the relief, the melting of her anxiety but only her wise core understood it. She looked down on the side of the hill. It was steep so I didn’t expect what happened next.

Missy sat down on her heels, and started slide on the old leaves, speeding up, laughing.

Sometimes I wished I could see her as a child, before everything that broke her, and these were the moments that I really saw who she was. One with the forest, the air, the ground, whole on her own, the gift of her bright light shared with the world. I wished people knew how beautiful they were, how close to happiness their lives were, how powerful they were. But their best moments come when they just let go and slide on the hill.

This post is part of the A to Z blogging challenge of April 2023.
Topic of this year is “The AI, the dog and the witchling”, real and fictional stories partially written/inspired by Artificial Intelligence, featuring Mia and Missy.
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6 thoughts on “The witch’s gift

  1. Beautiful! I think one of my very first memories is of rolling down a grassy hill just as Missy let go and just slid down that leafy slope. Total happiness. No fears of injury but just, as you write so beautifully, “one with the forest, the air, the ground, whole on her own.” Thank you! Josna


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