“You’ll have to pry them off me, first,” I said.
Eve gave me a sly smile that said that can be arranged.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said to Ruth Anne. She had never enjoyed these ceremonies as a kid, but now she seemed relaxed as she munched on a corn dog and swayed to the rhythm of Paul’s guitar.
“Yes,” she agreed. “We have so much to catch up on.”
“I’m a bit worried,” Merry said, looking out at the hundreds of people assembled before the stage. “I hope you’re right about this.”
“Me, too.” I swallowed.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Shane said. “Shall we?”
He took my hand and led me towards the center of the grandstand. As we passed in front of Paul, he stopped playing to stare at me. Eve took her seat next to him and grabbed his jaw, forcing his gaze onto her. He grinned and the two exchanged Eskimo kisses. Ruth Anne made a gagging gesture behind them and we all laughed.
I walked into the spotlight, aware that hundreds of eyes were now watching me. I lifted the microphone with shaking hands, not used to being the center of this much attention. Ruth Anne, Merry, Eve and June Bug joined me in the front row, standing off to my right. We waved out at the crowd and they cheered in response.
The next generation of Dark Root witches had risen.
“Good evening, everyone,” I said, when they had at last quieted down. “And welcome to the Annual Haunted Dark Root Lighting Ceremony.”
With that, the crowd broke into another round of applause.
“I realize our little coven’s been AWOL a few years,” I said, brushing a piece of hair out of my face. “But we are back now and here to stay.”
The crowd went crazy––clapping, cheering and stomping their feet. It reminded me of the revivals back at Woodhaven, only bigger and louder. I stepped forward, the spotlight still following me, my eyes resting on a young woman in the front row.
“Legend says that over a century ago, a woman named Juliana Benbridge lost her husband, Charles, when he jumped to his death from one of the tallest bridges in Portland. By all accounts, Charles had every reason to live. He was young, wealthy, a sought-after architect, and married to the most beautiful woman in the city. Still, one fateful evening while out for a walk, several witnesses saw him suddenly stop, and then––as if under a spell––walk to the edge of the bridge and hurl himself into the icy water below. His body was never found. Later, a maid confessed to hearing Juliana complain of her husband’s bad habits, just that afternoon...
“Now, that in itself shouldn’t have aroused much suspicion. But Juliana had been a mystery ever since she had moved to Portland at the age of sixteen. It was said that flowers bloomed or wilted in her presence, depending on her mood. A cock that crowed too early one morning, interrupting Juliana’s beauty sleep, suddenly fell over dead. And a neighbor claimed her pitcher of milk had soured, just because Juliana had touched the pitcher.
“But, the biggest reason Juliana was under constant scrutiny had less to do with sour milk and more to do with her unusual ability...an ability that caused a lot of distress among the elite of Portland. Juliana could make men fall suddenly––and violently––in love with her. Husbands left their wives. Clergy left the church. Fathers left their families. All of them claimed they were under a spell.
“And so, shortly after her husband’s passing, Juliana received a visit from her neighbors, advising her that if she did not leave immediately, they were going to get rid of her themselves. Juliana––being a practical woman––left the city with her two daughters and moved to Salem, where the family commissioned a company to build them a new house deep in the forests of Central Oregon. From there, Dark Root was founded.
“It is said that Juliana’s magick followed her into the woods and that it still runs through the blood of her descendants, growing stronger with each generation. She was the original Dark Root witch and we,” I said, waving towards my sisters. “Are her great-granddaughters.”
I caught my breath and smiled at Ruth Anne, Merry and Eve.
They smiled back. We joined hands and curtsied as the crowd cheered for us. It was a strange feeling to be openly embracing my roots like this, but I wasn’t alone. I had never been alone, I now realized. I had always had my sisters.
I took the microphone and knelt down, speaking to a little girl in the front row.
“Some people think that all witches are bad, but that’s not true,” I said. “Since the time of Juliana, we have been using our powers to push back the dark spirits that threaten to take over the world. Even though our Magick is at its strongest on All Hollow’s Eve, we can’t do this alone. Can you help us?”
The little girl nodded eagerly. I winked at her and stood up.
“I now invite you all to join me in the traditional lighting ceremony. Please gather tight around the stage.”
Those who had attended the festival in years past quickly made their way to the front, forming a tight ring around the stage. Others followed suit, closing in around them. Parents in the back rows placed their children on their shoulders, giving them a better view.
We kept our places on the platform and watched.
“Now,” I said, when everyone had arranged themselves the way they wanted. “Did everyone get an orange goody-bag today?”
I lifted mine up so they could see what I meant. Most people held theirs up in response, but a few shook their heads.
“Please raise your hand if you do not have one and someone will bring one by,” I said.
Shane and Paul hopped down and began distributing the extra bags.
“Still three to spare,” Shane said, when he returned a few minutes later.
I sighed in relief. Part one of my plan had at least worked.
“Inside your bag, you will find a flashlight. Please pull it out.”
As they rifled through their sacks, Shane dimmed the stage lights.
“They say that one small light, if passed on, can illuminate the world. And so I ask you, this Halloween night, that as your lantern is lit, you pass it on to the person next to you.”
“There’s no batteries,” a boy called out, shaking his flashlight and flipping the switch as others did the same.
“Patience,” I said, as I showed everyone that my flashlight was also without batteries. “Even a witch needs a little time.”
“Time to get wild, my little wilder,” Shane whispered, returning to my side.
“I’m not sure I can,” I whispered back.
It was a good idea in theory, but I had my doubts that I could pull it off. I wasn’t a magick-on-demand type of witch.
Shane took my hand and squeezed it. “I’ve seen you do great things, Maggie Magic. You can do this.”
I took a deep breath, still unsure of how to tap into my powers, but no longer doubting they existed. Aunt Dora believed in me. Jillian believed in me. My sisters believed in me. Even Shane believed in me. Now I had to believe in myself.
Closing my eyes, I raised the flashlight above my head, concentrating on the object in my hands. I imagined a stream of light rushing through me, emanating from the balls of my feet, moving through my body and head, then into my arms. I felt calm and tingly all at the same time, almost giddy. My fingertips tingled as I poured my energy into the dead flashlight.
A gasp from the crowd forced open my eyes. I gasped too when I saw the beam of light that shot up from my flashlight and into the dark sky. A small beacon in the night.
I looked to Shane who nodded encouragingly. He knew the hard part was still to come.
“Join hands,” I told my sisters, offering Ruth Anne my free hand as I continued to hold the flashlight in the air with the other. “I need to draw from you.”
We stood in a line across the stage. Everyone was quiet as they waited to see what would happen next.
I reached deep inside my soul, searching for that door that had been locked up like Mother’s secret room. It was open now, gaping and ra
w. I turned my thoughts to that happy place of my childhood, running in the garden with my sisters. There was no rain there. No darkness. Only love. And light. Enough to fill the entire world.
I focused our collective energy as I dipped my flashlight onto Ruth Anne’s, mentally pushing it through. Her flashlight lit up, eliciting an ‘ah’ from the crowd.
Ruth Anne turned to Eve, tapping her light to her sister’s, and a white halo elucidated her face. Eve touched her flashlight to Merry’s, then Merry transferred her light on to her daughter. June Bug gasped as her flashlight lit up; she waved it like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.
“Now, go light theirs, honey,” Merry said, directed June Bug to the crowd.
June Bug tottered carefully down the steps, and tapped her flashlight against a little girl’s in the front row.
“Mom!” cried the girl, her eyes gleaming. “Look!” She touched her mother’s flashlight and smiled. On and on it went, four hundred flashlight beams aimed at the heavens.
A tree cracked behind us. A raven cawed. The veil between the living and dead was almost non-existent tonight, but nothing was going to break through. We had helped to seal the circle around Dark Root, making a statement that we weren’t ready for things to end. There was still light in the world and we weren’t giving up.
“You did it!” Shane said, taking my flashlight and kissing the tips of my shaking hands.
The act had taken all my strength and I looked around for somewhere to sit. Shane escorted me to a stool by the microphone, pressing his palms to the small of my back, so that I wouldn’t fall over.
“I’m still not sure how doing this is going to help Mother,” I said, watching the world spin around me.
“Maybe it’s all in the symbolism,” Shane said, scratching his jaw.
I nodded thoughtfully. Maybe he was right.
I had finally accepted that I was a witch’s daughter and a witch myself. My sisters and I had all returned to our childhood home. And we had performed the ritual Mother believed would help stave off a cataclysm. Maybe symbolism was enough.
As I sat on the stool, replenishing my energy, I watched the flashlights turn off one by one. Even so, that didn’t put an end to the excited chatter, “How did they do that? Was that a trick?”
I managed a weak smile. I didn’t know the answers.
Magick was at work and I would never doubt it again.
“Okay,” Eve said into the microphone. “I think its party time!”
Eve and Paul took the stage again, performing a rousing rendition of ‘Superstitious.’ Eve’s voice cracked on a few notes, but no one cared. Everyone was too busy having a good time.
“You’re a real witch, now,” Ruth Anne said, coming over to me and mussing up my hair.
“Shhh, don’t let that get out,” I said, trying to salvage my hairdo. “I have a reputation to protect.”
Shane helped me to my feet. “You look pretty weak. I think some biscuits would fix you right up.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather eat biscuits with one of my sisters?” I asked.
“All wonderful women,” Shane admitted. “But I’ve had my eyes on another one, ever since our first game of hide and seek.”
“You!” I stomped my foot. “All those games of hide and seek you talked us into and you were cheating!” Another thought occurred to me. “You never used your, what did you call them, remote viewing abilities to watch us girls doing other things, did you?”
“Only the good things,” he smiled.
The music changed and Eve launched into ‘Purple People Eater.’ The crowd sang along as she worked the stage, completely in her element.
June Bug ran to me. “I love you, Aunt Maggie,” she said, laying her head against my hip. The moon hit her hair, casting gold reflections all around us, more poignant than any light I could produce. “This is the best Halloween ever!”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I think so, too.”
It was just after nine on the morning of November first, the day our mother had always referred to as The Day of Taking Stock. We were bringing her home from the hospital today, and we gathered outside her door.
“I just need a few minutes alone with her,” I told the others.
They nodded and I tiptoed inside, closing the door behind me.
“Mama?” I said, lips trembling as I stepped in.
She was still in a coma, hooked up to tubes and machines, looking even more frail than when I had last visited her, over a full month ago now. If resurrecting Haunted Dark Root was supposed to help her, it wasn’t showing.
“Oh, God, Mama,” I said, moving closer. “Maggie’s here.” I took her hand, almost a translucent gray, and squeezed it. “...And I’m not leaving this time, okay?”
Her breathing hung for a moment, and then continued.
I squeezed her hand again, wondering if she had heard me.
“I should have come sooner,” I said. “I know that now. I haven't been a very good daughter. I have no excuses.” I paused, rubbing my temples with my free hand.
“I was just...just so angry with you. Angry that that you never told us who our father was. Angry that I...I...I thought you were using us to gain attention for yourself. Angry for...for Ruth Anne and Merry leaving.” I couldn’t hold back the tears. “I never knew that you were trying to protect us. I wish you had told me...”
Her monitor started beeping.
Was I squeezing too hard? I relaxed my grip and took another breath. For the first time in my life, I was seeing her, not as the high and mighty Miss Sasha Shante for whom all of Dark Root bowed, but as the human woman she really was. A woman who made mistakes and had regrets. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my dress and continued.
“I shouldn’t have left Dark Root without telling you,” I said. “It was wrong. And I’m going to make it up to you. I promise. I’m staying this time. Maggie’s home.”
I opened my purse and removed the bus ticket I had purchased when I had first come back to Dark Root, the ticket that expired today. My father could still be alive, and if so, I wanted to find him. But for now, I had everything, and everyone, I needed. I ripped the ticket up into tiny pieces and dropped them into the wastebasket.
Mother’s breathing remained ragged. I pressed her hand to my lips and then set it on the bed beside her. It slipped, flopping over the edge, and the crystal band on her thin arm slid to the floor. I picked it up, about to place it back on her wrist, when I noticed that it was cracked.
I held it to the light. There wasn’t just one crack, but many––small rivulets embedded deep within the glass. How could it have cracked inside?
The circle.
This was the artifact that Leah has been looking for, I was sure of it. And it was on Mother’s wrist the whole time.
I inspected it again. The circle was cracked, but it wasn’t broken yet.
“I’m taking this now,” I said, putting on the bracelet.
It pulsed on my wrist, tightening with every squeeze. I felt a series of tingles, like tiny currents crawling up my arm. My fingers twitched and I lifted my hand to see sparks of amber, violet, green, and yellow. I lowered my arm, willing the energy to dissipate. The colors faded out and I was left feeling nauseous. Still, in that moment, I felt connected to...
Everything?
I looked at the bracelet again. There was still so much I had to learn.
“Aunt Maggie, can we come in yet?” June Bug asked from the doorway.
I nodded.
“Ah, I see you found the bracelet,” Ruth Anne said. “Be careful with that thing. I hear power can go to your head.”
“We can discuss Maggie’s impending insanity later,” Eve said, taking my hand.
Ruth Anne and Merry joined us and we encircled our mother. June Bug stroked her grandmother’s face while Shane stood behind me, touching my shoulder. Paul sat down in a chair and began playing the first few riffs of ‘Maggie May’ on his guitar.
“There is power in words,” I
said, reciting the lesson from my dreams, then remembering my conversation with Jillian. “...And in love.”
“You’re right about that,” Merry said, her face soft as she took in the picture of June Bug attending to our mother.
As we held the circle, I reflected back on the six weeks since I had returned to Dark Root. In that time I had learned that magic was real, but it wasn’t just reserved for witches. I could see it in the changing seasons and hear it in the lyrics of a song. I could feel it every time someone kept a promise, or made a sacrifice. Magic was there whenever someone performed an act of kindness––or forgiveness. Magic could be found through music and laughter and love and, above all, family. This everyday magic was more powerful than any incantation or spell or working of the craft. This was the magic that lit up the world.
“Look!” June Bug called.
Mother’s blue eyes fluttered open. Her lips were cracked but she managed a weary smile before falling back to sleep.
“I think Grandma’s going to be okay!” June Bug beamed.
“I think so too,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I think we all are.”
“You’re a good daughter and a good auntie, Maggie,” Merry whispered, placing a hand on my belly. “And you’re going to make an even better mother.”
“You mean...”
“Yes,” Merry smiled. “The circle continues.”
BONUS PAGES!
See below for sample pages from April Aasheim’s novel
The Universe Is A Very Big Place
One
1982
Spring pulled back the flap and peered into the tent. A set of red tapered candles, placed purposely on a trunk in the center of the room, provided enough light to make out the objects inside. There were old books, some heavy with dust, thrown haphazardly across crates on the floor. Recipe cards calling for strange ingredients like cat whiskers and muskrat tails were pinned to the walls. Vials of every imaginable shape and color occupied makeshift shelves along the perimeter of the tent. Their shadows cast long, ghostly silhouettes, lending an eerie credence to the atmosphere.
The Witches of Dark Root Page 33
