New project

(Don't know the final name yet but I've started writing a paranormal/fantasy piece)

Prologue

“A witch and a bitch always dress up for each other, because otherwise the witch would upstage the bitch, or the bitch would upstage the witch, and the result would be havoc”

Tennessee Williams

The butcher had been a problem ever since he came to town. For the entire time he tried to drive her out and get others to help him do it.

To solve the problem Margaret decided to try a spell she had been thinking of that should scare him good. Turning a few pages she found the spell she was interested in. She grinned as she began to get the ingredients together. Feldspar, Queen Anne’s Lace and a number of other items were mixed together in the cauldron. The ingredients began to mingle and a blue glow began to emanate from within its confines. Wispy tendrils were creeping down the sides until forming into a kind of a luminous puddle.

Coalescing together the pooling essence began to get much larger. Soon the glowing mass began to take the shape of a person standing in the middle of the room. Holding out a few strands of hair to the wisp it sent out a kind of string to the cuttings. It wrapped around them and gathered them into itself.

What had almost become a solid form began to disintegrate again into a kind of mist. Unable to find any spaces between the thatching twigs it made its way to the doorway. From there it hesitated a moment before going into the open air outside. Margaret smiled thinking about how the butcher would be getting quite the surprise with his new visitor.

Mr. Frost, the butcher, was readying himself to prepare some meat for the day in his shop. He was hefting the quarter onto the stump that delivered by the farmer early in the morning. With saw in hand he was going to cut it up into amounts for the day. In the back of his mind how he hoped that all of it would sell today. All too often he had to throw at least some of it out which seemed such a waste to him.

Over a year ago he came to the little town and had set up his butcher shop. It always took time to get a business going and this one seemed to be taking longer than usual to get started. When he first came he had totally black hair and more recently his hair was becoming more and more gray. The flecks of graying became more pronounced as he worried every night about how he would keep the shop going.

He decided that witchcraft might be something that could be at fault. Since he didn’t understand what Margaret was doing he thought she could be casting spells. Who ever heard of easing childbirth? Far too proud to ask questions about what was really going on and not being really interested in the answers he just assumed the worst.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see something moving into the room from the doorway. He attempted to keep his attention on the saw he was attempting to operate, “we’re not open yet”. Receiving no response he quit attempting to cut the meat and turned observe the intruder. Seeing the glowing blue mist creeping in began to frighten him immensely.

Pooling up in the middle of the room it started to take shape. His eyes got wide and he dropped his arms to his sides. Frozen in place he couldn’t move, his mind became a complete blank. The ethereal form came closer to him and he ran outside.

When he seen that it came doorway to stand there. It now displayed glowing red eyes and fangs as the butchers face began to show his abject terror. His legs took over as he began to run down the street heedlessly. Many came to their doors and watched him fly on by shrieking. Many of the townsfolk was wondering what happened to him.

Together some of the neighbors began to talk about what they had just seen. A few stated it could be witchery afoot and many were quickly beginning to think that Margaret might be the one responsible.

"She's always been trouble!"

"We shouldn't have ever let her stay!"

"We should burn her on stake!"

She could feel what was being said in the little town as she was approaching the main road. While the little trail offered pretty good cover that wouldn't hold true in the open space she was coming to. Out of habit she put her cloak on and pulled the hood over her head. Then she observed the butcher running by as fast as his legs could carry him away from the town.

Memories of the mob that came bearing torches that night more recently once again filled her with dread. Shouts and cries filled the night and then someone had thrown their torch into one of her windows. Into the night the blaze consumed the little house. Upon reaching the thatched it became an inferno. Embers sailed up into the air and some of them lighted neighboring thatched roofs.

When this was finally noticed the mob turned into a fire brigade to save the neighboring houses. It was the single thing which saved Margaret’s life as she was able to escape. Since that evening she had numerous nightmares that it would happen again.

The next day she left the town to find a new place to live. She didn’t know ahead of time where that would be but she would know it when she had seen it. Wandering for several months she finally happened upon the quiet little hamlet of Sethmoor. Nearby the town was a wooded area and meadow where she knew she could live in peace.