OtherWitch.
“Hypothetic Victim of Prediction.”*
Is that you? It depends, do I know you?
Excellent line from a song that has many, you will have to listen a few times to appreciate it. Some good mental equipment will help, but whatever, there’s enough in just a few of the lines. Guess which ones are my favourites, give me something to smile about.
You could as easily say Hypothetic Victim of Perdition, it’s all the same in the end. Except for the hypothetical part.
Think of it, lowly peon, living your constricted life, circumscribed by your own boundaries, the idea that someone could break them without you knowing. Do you imagine you are safe from outside influences? Not while there are Witches in the world, I jest not, faithful reader.
What if you are the object of a spell somewhere? What if your actions affected someone deeply without you even having any idea of it? Or worse, you knew and didn’t care? It happens, trust me, spells can be looked up online these days, every one of you should be looking over your shoulder. And let’s not forget curses, Witches can lay them on the fly by now, and countless amateurs try their hands, you may even be the victim of a practice curse. How is your complexion?
New Witches start slow, cast a few prank spells, help a stranger win a lottery, save a dog and find your long lost brother, bumper crops, freak weather events- like rain when sun was predicted, wind on calm days and rivers rising suddenly in the spring. Prom Queen trippings, professor gets caught with blow-up doll, of himself, hated rivals step off cliffs, wait, no, that’s modern fiction, what else then? The Pharoah wakes up with an orange beard, the King catches syphilis, the fish won’t bite, the fish eat the boat and everything in it, tidal waves wipe out your hated peasant village. Airplane crashes- not terrorists, amateur Witches on brooms, scroll your way to the other side of Wiccan, cause a ruckus from your own altar, fly riding whatever the hell you want.
Long term evils like trends and cliques? You bet. Rulers with power and anarchists who don’t care? Oh yes, in spades. How many head Witches do you think there are? How many Witch police on the loose? As fiction tells us, proper Witches ignore the rules for the good of your sorry species. How nice for you.
A witch like Agatha or Saegyth would cook and serve something like that to their enemies, a real Witch has no rules and is limited only by her power to command. What elements obey her? What comes to her hand? You’ve read Agatha, you know how many things love her, that kind of loyalty can’t be found online, it can’t be taught.
It shows up in odd places, the scribe is a practised Witch, she has laid some select curses, cast more blessings than you can possibly deserve. Does she have a dark cauldron? Of course, could I respect her if she didn’t? She is what you might call a channel of sorts, not just for my August Person, and others who cling like parasites, but for odd things like plants, electricity, the ground she stands on, she is connected in a way that few are. Omens rain down on her like rain. What you call coincidences are so common in her life the word has lost all meaning. The Universe takes the trouble to mess with her, quite frustrating for those of us trying to control her life. Her mind.
This is what makes her a dangerous Witch. She has the requisite extra senses, the critical connection with all things natural, the sweet, flexible mind, the wisdom to listen to herself, she is volatile. She is available to all kinds of forces, they like that.
Only lately come to hatred, she is still awkward with it, her hands unpractised. What do I care? Now that she has arrived she can take forever to master it. Her worst curses are dark indeed, for her. I could help her with that, but I think it is best for her to learn as she goes. Nothing compares with the power of repetition, you are exceptionally vulnerable to it. This I can help her with, she needs to be reminded frequently that curses must be repeated until they take effect.
So many things carving their way into her helpless mind, she should have control of some of them at least. Thank goodness for the elasticity of neurons, the blind acquiescence of conscience, though she has hers trussed up and gagged, quite expertly, in fact. Thank goodness for fate, and for simple hate, turning a flower into a fighter.
“Saturn” by James McCalister, Sufjan Stevens, Nico Muhly, Bryce Dessner Tell me I am Evil…