The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  I tried to piece it all together. Everyone had their own version of the same story. It was confusing, but I knew it was also important.

  “And that’s why the Council broke up?” I said finally.

  “Der were many reasons, but dat was da last straw, da real reason yer mother wouldn’ let warlocks in after. Dey weaken women.”

  “Do you think Larinda has figured out how to summon? Is that why Mother’s afraid?”

  Aunt Dora tapped her fingers on the table. “It’s been many years since I seen her. Who knows what she’s been able ta do in dat time? Assumin’ she’s alive...”

  An image came to me, an army of horrendous dark shapes standing over my body while I slept. I wanted nothing to do with summoners. I was going to run, I decided...right away. Everyone was okay before I had come home. They would be okay after I left. I was about to tell Aunt Dora where she could stuff all this witchery business, when a small voice from the doorway brought me back.

  “Aunt Maggie,” June Bug said, holding up her picture. “I’m done.”

  “Well, look der!” Aunt Dora clapped her hands and took the poster, holding it up for me to see. There were skeletons, jack-o’-lanterns and ghosts, surrounded by families eating ice cream and playing games. In the center of the picture, a blond girl smiled, holding a balloon.

  “Dis is exactly what Haunted Dark Root looks like!” Aunt Dora said. “I think ya got some of yer Aunt Maggie’s artistic abil’ties...”

  June Bug beamed.

  I patted my lap and June Bug raced towards me, jumping on my legs. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck.

  “I think yer stayin’ a while more,” Aunt Dora said, smiling wryly. “Yer work here is not yet done.”

  Seventeen: Main Street

  Sister House, Dark Root, Oregon

  June, 1997

  “Don’t you turn your back on me!”

  Miss Sasha was in a frenzy, chasing after Ruth Anne in the kitchen. Maggie and Merry watched from the sofa, not sure if they should be worried or amused. The two went at it often now, Ruth Anne accusing Miss Sasha of being a bad mother and Miss Sasha accusing Ruth Anne of being an ungrateful daughter.

  “There’s knives in the kitchen,” Merry whispered to Maggie, but neither girl was alarmed. For all the shouting and name calling, neither Miss Sasha nor Ruth Anne had resorted to physical violence.

  “When will you tell them?” Ruth Anne stopped on one side of the kitchen table, facing her mother on the opposite side. “They deserve to know. If you don’t tell them...” Her words stopped.

  Tell them what? Maggie wondered.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Miss Sasha straightened herself, patting her hair back in place. “And if you care about them, you will shut your mouth and go back to your books.”

  Ruth Anne pulled open the junk drawer and removed a pair of sewing scissors. Maggie’s hand tightened on Merry’s arm and the two girls caught their breath.

  “Put those away,” Miss Sasha ordered. “I’m not playing with you.”

  “I’m not putting anything away,” Ruth Anne said, waving the scissors above her head.

  “You’re not being sane.”

  “Please! I’m the only sane person in this family.” Ruth Anne glanced at her sisters, giving them an apologetic look.

  “Ruth Anne! Don’t...” Maggie and Merry begged, finally intervening.

  Miss Sasha ran towards Ruth Anne, grabbing for the scissors, but Ruth Anne was quicker, backing away. In one, quick moment, the deed was done. Ruth Anne’s brown hair fell to the floor as Miss Sasha’s mouth dropped.

  “She did it,” Merry whispered, her eyes widening. “She cut her hair.”

  A witch never cuts her hair.

  That had been one of the first lessons the girls had learned. The longer her hair, the more powerful the witch. And here, Ruth Anne had just done it. It was almost impossible to believe.

  Eve bounded down the stairs, still in her pajamas.

  “Go back to bed, Evie,” Merry said. “Everything is okay.”

  But Maggie knew that everything wasn’t okay. On the floor lay eighteen inches of brown hair, shorn from the head of her eldest sister. Maggie looked to the floor and then to Ruth Anne, who stood looking like a boy, grinning victoriously.

  “What have you done?” Miss Sasha clenched the side of her face, staring at her eldest daughter in disbelief.

  “What I should have done a long time ago. I’m ending this nonsense.”

  Miss Sasha scooped up the tresses, clenching them in her fist. “The circle is breaking,” she said.

  “It’s too late for me, but please let them have some normalcy in what’s left of their childhood.” Ruth Anne sat down at the kitchen table, her face changing from triumph to exhaustion. “My father’s coming for me. Don’t try to stop me.”

  Miss Sasha stared at her daughter for a long time. Finally, she spoke.

  “What we need is music,” she said, lifting her chin. She then went to the side room––her private room––and unlocked the door. She returned moments later with a record player, placing it on the dining room table. She plugged it in and moved the needle over the record. Take it Easy began to play.

  “One can never stay down long when there’s music in the house,” Miss Sasha said. “That’s what I always say.”

  Maggie, Merry and Eve stood speechless as their mother danced through the living room, like the incident had never happened.

  Ruth Anne turned towards her younger sisters. “I’m sorry girls,” she said, heading for the stairs. “...I can’t live like this anymore. I’m leaving tonight.”

  “Yes, of course I remember that night,” Eve said, shaking back her long dark hair.

  She was dressed in skinny jeans, a tight, red sweater, and black lace-up boots with thick heels. She looked out of place in her hometown as we made our way up and down Main Street, handing out fliers to the few pedestrians who were about.

  “You are resurrecting Haunted Dark Root, huh?” a woman I didn't recognize asked, as we shoved a piece of paper in her hand. “Well, I guess we can participate. I gotta ask Albert though.”

  The woman slipped into the book shop and I turned my attention back to Eve.

  “I dreamed about it. Every detail of that night.”

  “So?”

  “I think Ruth Anne had information that Mother didn’t want us to know.”

  “Yeah?” Eve faced me, crossing her arms. Her makeup was dramatic, overdone on anyone else, but it suited her. “No one can keep a secret in a town this size. You take a piss and everyone knows.”

  “Classy,” I said, but she was right. Keeping secrets in Dark Root was hard. The whole town knew I had gotten my first period before I did.

  I recalled how Ruth Anne had told Mother that she needed to ‘tell them.’ Did she mean us? And if so, tell us what? I tried to dredge back the dream but the more I focused on it, the more I lost it. I gave up before it was gone altogether.

  “Maybe she knew who our father was?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Eve said, raising an eyebrow. “I guess there is that little secret. Sometimes I’m not even sure if Mother knows.”

  I smirked. Mother always bragged about all the men that were in love with her, but I had never seen any of them. The only evidence of a past romantic life was that she had four daughters.

  “I used to envy Ruth Anne,” Eve said, turning her head towards the end of Main Street. A van drove by and disappeared––the only vehicle we had seen in almost an hour.

  “She was the only one of us who had known her dad.” Eve’s eyes seemed weighted, as if her fake eyelashes were too heavy. She filled her lungs with air and let it out. “Haven’t you ever been curious about who our dad is?”

  I bit my lip and nodded encouragingly. It was rare for Eve to talk about her feelings. She seemed more human to me now, and I wanted her to continue.

  “I used to look at every man I ever met,” Eve continued. “...T
rying to determine if there was a family resemblance. The only one who looks remotely like any of us is Uncle Joe. You and him have the same hair. But we know Uncle Joe wasn’t fond of women...and Mother, in particular.”

  She laughed at the absurdity of it and I laughed with her.

  “Do you think he was a warlock?” I asked. “Our father?”

  Ruth Anne’s father wasn’t. He was just some car salesman that Mother said she picked up and had her fun with for a few months, until he knocked her up.

  “Probably not,” Eve replied, thoughtfully. “Mother wouldn’t want anyone she couldn’t lord over. Warlocks gave her headaches.”

  “You’re probably right.” I kicked at a pebble that was caught in the crack of the sidewalk, sending it skittering into the road.

  “I wish Ruth Anne had taken us with her.” Eve’s voice cracked. She released the grip on the flier in her hand and it slipped away, sent spiraling down the street by a small gust of wind.

  I took her hand and held it, sharing the memory with my sister. Ruth Anne, her bags packed, disappearing into a grey sedan with a man she called father.

  We never heard from her again.

  “I miss her,” I said.

  “I used to envy you, too.” Eve released my hand and stared at the ground, swallowing.

  “Me? Why me?”

  “You knew Ruth Anne better than I did. Both you and Merry did. I was still so young when she left and when she was gone, she was gone. We didn’t even talk about her. I never got to know her. You never told stories about her...”

  I could tell Eve was on the verge of crying. She covered her ears, like she was hearing something she didn't want to hear. I watched her quietly, not wanting to touch her because I knew she would shake me away. After a few minutes she regained her composure.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I stepped forward to hug her, something I had never done, ready to confess that I had envied her too––envied the way everyone doted on her, the way boys looked at her, the way she had taken Merry’s attention away from me when she was born. As my arms reached for her, Eve stepped back, bending over to tie a lace on her boot that had not come undone.

  “Yeah, whatevs,” she said. “It is what it is. No big deal. Anyways, how many more of these do you have?” Eve opened her tote bag to show me that she was almost out of fliers.

  I counted the stack in my hand. There were less than ten.

  “Not a bad morning’s work,” Eve said. “Maybe we should tape the rest to the store windows that aren't occupied.”

  I agreed and we stuck the remaining posters onto every available surface.

  At last we found ourselves at the end of Main Street, standing in front of Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe. We looked at one another. We had come to the end of the trail.

  “It’s locked,” I said, jiggling the doorknob. The windows were covered up with butcher paper from the inside, obstructing our view. “Oh, well.”

  Eve stared at me, unblinking. We both knew that there was a back window, one we used often when we had forgotten our keys.

  “Shall we?” she said, pulling me by the arm into the alley behind the store, avoiding stones and broken glass.

  We wrestled with the window until it gave way.

  The opening was narrow and several feet above our heads. Eve managed to make it through easily, but I wrestled with the task. “If you stayed away from Aunt Dora’s muffins, you wouldn’t need help,” she said as she took my hands, pulling me through.

  When I reached the top, I halted for a moment before stepping into the darkness.

  “It stinks in here,” I said, covering my nose with my hand.

  With the bins of exotic spices and herbs, as well as scented candles and incense, the shop had always had an interesting smell, but this new aroma was downright nauseating.

  “...How long has this place been empty again?” I jumped as a furry black shape scuttled across the floor.

  “I’m guessing about three years, judging from my conversations with Aunt Dora,” Eve said, pulling out her cell phone and using it as a flashlight.

  We stood in the back room where we used to store merchandise, conduct inventory, and take our breaks. Over the years, the boxes had accumulated and the room was a jumbled mess. I had to watch my step so that I wouldn’t trip.

  “This way,” Eve said, guiding me towards a ray of light coming from the front room window.

  “What do you think is in all those boxes?” I asked.

  Eve walked towards the window and tore down the butcher paper, letting light fill the room.

  “Just more of Mom’s crap,” she said. “She must have run out of hoarding space at the house and moved some of it here...”

  The front room was in better shape. There were only a few random boxes strewn about and the scent wasn’t nearly so strong.

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask for the electricity to work,” I said.

  Eve must have wondered the same thing, because she was already at the light switch, flipping it off and on with no success.

  “We could reopen this shop, you know?” she said, scanning the store.

  I was surprised by her remark. She had never enjoyed being at the shop when we were young, and here she was, suggesting we start it back up again.

  “You serious?” I said.

  “Uh-huh. It’s not in that bad of shape. We clean the place up,” Eve continued, charging towards the back room and returning with a broom. “...Dig through the boxes, order supplies. We could have this place up and running again in time for Haunted Dark Root.”

  Eve’s eyes flashed and the energy changed around her.

  She was serious.

  I remembered that I had told Shane I would help. “I guess...I’m just not thrilled about working in Mother’s sweat shop again.”

  I looked out the window; it was ghostly quiet on Main Street. I wasn’t sure how we were going to accomplish everything in the next several weeks.

  “That’s just it, Maggie. Mom’s in no position to run this place. This could be our place now. We could run it the way we want.”

  “What about New York? Won’t you miss performing?” I fidgeted, uncomfortable with the way Eve had basically written Mother out of the picture. I turned my attention towards Dip Stix across the street, focusing on the table where I had first seen Michael seven years ago.

  “I just finished up a really big show and I could use some time away,” Eve said. “Performing takes its toll on you, if you don’t learn to rest. Besides, my agent knows where to reach me if something important comes up.”

  She looked up and to the right, her lips moving as she silently counted. “...I could probably juggle a few things and stay long enough to get this place going again.”

  Eve removed a broom from the supply closet and began sweeping the floor, pushing up more dust than she collected. When she had gathered a sufficient amount, she opened the front door and let it roll out.

  “I thought you were helping Shane open up Fondue Land?”

  “This shop was the heart of Dark Root. If we can get it up and running, both the festival and Shane’s restaurant are bound to be successful.”

  “Why does any of this matter to you?” I asked, genuinely interested.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, pausing to think. “It just does.”

  As Eve resumed sweeping, I checked the bins beneath the glass counter. Once they had been filled with fresh herbs; now everything was brittle and dried up.

  “I saw Mom and Merry today,” Eve said casually, as she put the broom away.

  “Oh?” This was news to me.

  “Yeah. Paul drove me. Stayed and visited awhile. Mom’s not looking so good.”

  I moved from the bins to the shelves, inspecting the assorted knick-knacks and items that were now coated in layers of dust. Some of the things I remembered, some were new.

  “Had lunch with Merry while we were there,” Eve continued. “I think it cheered her up.”
<
br />   “That’s nice,” I said, trying to sound like I didn't care. But I did care. Even though I didn't want to go to the hospital I cared that Eve had gone.

  Eve wasn’t going to drop the conversation. “I apologized for not bringing you, but Merry knows how you get about death and stuff. She understood.”

  If my sister wanted me to feel like crap, she was doing a good job. I was thinking of a way to defend myself when I noticed something on the chair near the front door. It was so covered in dust it was almost unrecognizable.

  “Eve, look. The book!”

  I had forgotten much about my time in Dark Root, including Mother’s book of spells. But there it sat in the corner, quietly, unassumingly, as if it were just waiting, wanting to be picked up.

  “So? It’s just one more dusty artifact in this place. Why do you care?”

  I didn’t have an answer.

  I had never cared about it before, but finding it now seemed monumental. I blew the dirt off the cover and read the title: Prayers, Curses, and Incantations. Opening it to a random page, I was surprised to see that the paper was yellow and crumbling.

  I gingerly turned the pages, calling out names of spells that sounded particularly interesting as Eve wiped off the bookcases. “Changing the Weather. Finding Money. Warts. I could have used these back at Woodhaven. Hey, here’s one for you––a love charm.”

  Eve pretended not to hear me.

  “I’m taking this,” I said.

  Eve turned to me. “Aren't you worried about The Curse?”

  “I figure if Mother could actually curse someone, we would know by now. That mailman she had a feud with when we were kids seems healthier now than ever. Besides,” I added. “The curse specifies that its only non-family members who aren’t allowed to remove the book. I am her daughter.”

  I turned the pages, wiping them carefully as I went. “...And it looks like someone has already tried. There are two pages missing.”