Pumpkins and Potions

by Tegan Maher

  Maybe it’s because I’ve always been a costume genius myself, but I respect the risk those kids take.

  Anyway, that year I’d gone with the Stay Puff Marshmallow guy from Ghostbusters. Which was a great costume, by the way, but not exactly easy to fit a rain jacket over. In the seventy years I’d lived in Blackwood Bay, we’d probably had ten Halloween’s that weren’t cold and rainy. That year was no different, so I was already in a crabby mood since I’d stuffed myself inside my raincoat. But with the costume on, it was too tight to lift my arms high enough to hold an umbrella. You would’ve thought one of my supposed friends would’ve offered to let me share theirs, but they were being a bunch of crybabies about me wearing my costume—

  Dru

  “Wait,” I held up a hand before she went any further. Something she said had confused me and I wouldn’t be able to focus on her story until I had clarification.

  “You wore your Halloween costume to the bonfire celebration? I thought we had to wear those black cloaks.”

  Granny shook her head, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “And why would you think that?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but she smacked her hands together. “Exactly! Because somebody told you that you had to and you didn’t question it. It was Athena, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  Granny waved me off. “She’s been cramming those things down our throat for decades. It’s like she thinks the spells won’t work without them or something. That was my whole point that year, by the way. To prove to her and everyone else that our magic doesn’t come from symbols and archaic traditions. It’s a part of us. My magic is—was—just as strong whether I was wearing a black cloak or a Stay Puff Marshmallow Man costume. My plan didn’t go over well though, in case you were wondering.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward and let out a puff of air.

  “See, they all thought I was being petty which is actually rich. I was completely forthcoming about my motivations the entire time, they were the ones being passive aggressive and making me stand out there in the rain all night.”

  “Yes, well, it’s a good thing you’re not still salty about it twenty years later,” Maui’s tone oozed sarcasm.

  “Oh, no. I’m salty about it.” She scooted forward in her chair and adjusted her glasses. “You would be too. Especially once you’ve heard the rest of the story.”

  “Sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to confirm that you were performing sacred rituals in a Halloween costume. Carry on.” I held my hand out for her to continue.

  Granny

  It was a particularly clear night, which was uncommon for that time of year, and Judith wanted to lead us in a spell for mental clarity and magical focus. I’d agreed earlier that day, before they all decided to be jerks to me, and I felt like calling the whole thing off and going home to watch horror movies and eat leftover Halloween candy. Sure, they could do the spells without me, but it wouldn’t work nearly as well.

  For whatever reason, probably because at least the fire was warm and I knew the walk back home would be cold, I stayed. Judith had just finished reciting the spell she’d crafted, and we were supposed to repeat it one at a time and then all together. It was finally my turn, and I couldn’t remember how it started.

  I wracked my brain, trying to remember the first few words she’d said, but I was coming up empty. The sound of the fire crackling sounded like a gunshot in the middle of the silent forest. We’d heard the shifters a few times, howling up at the moon, but most of local shifters were well into middle age, which meant they came out and whooped it up really hard for a good thirty minutes and then they went home and slipped into their flannel pajamas and fell asleep watching TV.

  “Granny,” Dorothy whispered.

  Her sister Minnie stood in between us, but she was much shorter than Dorothy, and Dorothy leaned over her to speak to me.

  “I’m trying to remember,” I whispered back.

  “Stop,” Dorothy hissed, looking down at me over the tip of her nose.

  “You stop. I’m serious.” I said, trying to tug my jacket closed. “How does it start?”

  “You just heard seven other people say it and you don’t know how it starts?” Helena placed her hands on her hips and looked at me disapprovingly.

  She was a good twenty years younger than me, but with seven kids under her belt, she was prone to mothering everyone—and not the good kind either. The nagging, party-pooper kind.

  “Yes, Helena. That’s what I said,” I responded.

  She clicked her tongue, exchanging glances with those closest to her.

  “It’s okay. We can just start over.” Judith, ever the peacemaker, forced a tight smile.

  “We shouldn’t have to do that,” Minerva, the Robin to Helena’s Batman, had suddenly gotten some awfully big britches.

  “No, it’s fine,” Judith said.

  “You know she’s faking right?” Helena whispered at Judith’s back.

  At that point, I’d had enough of their crap for one night. I lifted my hand waist-high and took control of the fire, twirling my finger around and around until it twisted like a tornado, sparks flying in all directions. Once enough faces had registered either fear or wonderment, I flicked my finger, the fire blasting down in a flurry of orange and red and transforming into nothing but smoke plumes and hot ash.

  We stood in an impenetrable circle around the place where a fire had raged only moments before. The only sound was the crackling of dying embers. I stepped forward, feeling half the eyes on me and the other half too afraid to lift their gaze to meet mine.

  I raised my hand again, this time palm up, and a tiny flame materialized, providing just enough light to illuminate every face in our circle. The rain had stopped, thank god, and I lowered the hood of my raincoat.

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding tonight,” I began, beginning to walk the perimeter of the bonfire. I stopped when I reached Athena, and she lowered her head, concealing her face with her cloak. “First,” I said, “some of you were under the impression that my magic is somehow weaker based on something as silly as what I’m wearing.”

  “It is silly. I like it.” Minnie grinned, popping up on her tiptoes.

  “That’s not what she meant, Minnie.” Dorothy elbowed her in the arm.

  “No, it’s okay. Thank you, Minnie. I like it too.” I began to pace again, stopping once I was in front of Judith and turning to face the rest of the group. “Then, because I refused to wear a completely unnecessary cloak, you all let me stand here in the freakin’ rain while you looked down at me in judgment from underneath your stupid dry cloaks.”

  I picked up my step again until I reached Minerva and Helena. “And do any of you know why I forgot the lines to Judith’s spell?” I scanned the circle, taking time to lock eyes with each and every witch.

  I looked back and Minerva and Helena over my shoulder.

  “Hmm?” I cocked an eyebrow and let the flame in my hand surge momentarily. “You two were awfully mouthy earlier. Nothing to say now?”

  They both shook their heads, refusing to meet my gaze. “Because it was a little hard to concentrate when I had rain pelting me in the eyes.”

  I walked back to my spot next to Minnie to address the entire group. “And why did I have rain pelting me in the eyes? Anyone?”

  Minnie lifted her hand timidly.

  “Yes, Minnie?”

  “Well, I might be wrong,” she wrung her hands, looking at me for reassurance.

  I nodded for her to continue.

  “Well, I think it’s because no one would share their umbrella with you. Is that right?”

  “Yes, that is exactly right.” I nodded. “And do you want to know why I find that particularly… amusing?”

  She looked terrified by the fact that she hadn’t been prepared for a follow up question.

  “It’s a rhetorical question, dear.” I smiled at her once more, and turned my attention back to the rest of the co
ven. “Have you all forgotten who I am? Have I been too nice lately?”

  “Oh, no.” Minnie spoke up again, shaking her head firmly. “Don’t worry, Granny, you’re never too nice. In fact, you’re never really even a little nice.”

  Dorothy elbowed her a second time, glaring down at her.

  “Okay. I haven’t been too nice. Which means you all must think that the power of this coven could exist without me. You think you could perform any of these rituals tonight without my magic powering the whole damn thing?” I turned my hand over and threw the flame back into the pit, a large fire erupting, licking at the sky as if it had been burning for hours.

  “Fine. You can all stay here in your dumb black cloaks—you look like Disney movie villains, by the way. You know that, right? You dummies look like the wicked stepmother from Snow White. And you perform whatever spells and rituals you want without me. See how well that works out for you.”

  I spun around and broke free from the circle, stomping away to the sound of shocked gasps. I knew they’d felt it—the magic leaving the circle. Served them right though. I was in charge and I wouldn’t be disrespected.

  I marched through the dark, muttering curses under my breath, specifically aimed at Helena and Minerva and the new warts they needed on the ends their noses.

  The sound of rushing feet cutting through the brush interrupting my thoughts, and I paused to see if I could tell where they were coming from. They were getting closer, at least three separate paces, but I still didn’t see anyone. I considered creating another flame to use as a torch, but if it was humans that wouldn’t work out too well. That was when I heard whimpering. A dog?

  “Hello?” I called out, scanning the dark.

  Within seconds, three large coyotes emerged from the darkness and bounded toward me.

  Just what I needed to end the night—a fight with coyotes.

  Once they were close enough though, I realized their eyes weren’t the eyes of an animal. They were human eyes. All three shifted mid-jump, and I was suddenly face to face teenage boys. Their faces were wracked with sheer terror, and I admit, it made my stomach clench.

  “What are you boys doing?” I asked, taking a large step backward.

  “Please, you have to help us.” A red-headed boy reached out for my arm and I slapped his hand away.

  “You’re a witch, aren’t you, lady?” His scrawny friend asked.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, we you need your help. We don’t got the kinda magic you got,” the scrawny kid said.

  “Yeah, we were lucky we could shift and get out of there when we did,” The redhead was panting.

  “What are you boys talking about?”

  “We—we saw something out there… in the woods,” the the third boy finally spoke, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

  “Oh? And what did you see?” I asked, my eyes shifting to survey the tree line at their back.

  The scrawny boy wiped his palms on the front of his pants and sucked in a deep breath. “It was a man—no, not a man. He—he had a body like a man, and he was riding on a horse and there was all this black fog and stuff around him,” he paused, sucking in another breath as he tried to steady his breathing.

  “And that isn’t even the worst part,” The redhead said.

  “No? What’s the worst part?”

  “His… his head.” The redheaded boy exchanged a look with his friends. “He was carrying it under his arm, and it was a jack-o-lantern.”

  “The headless horseman,” the scrawny boy whispered.

  I burst into laughter, shaking my head as I turned my back on them. “Nice try, boys, but you’ll have to come up with something more believable if you want to prank an old witch like me.”

  “No, lady, it’s not a prank.”

  “We swear.”

  “Yeah, we swear.”

  I stopped and turned to look at them over my shoulder. “Boys, it’s late. Go home before you get into trouble.”

  “No, you gotta believe us—” his pleas were cut off by screams ripping through the night air.

  I whipped all the way around, my head jerking in the direction of the sound.

  “He’s still here.” One of the boys whispered.

  “Boys,” I said evenly, “Go home. Now.”

  They didn’t protest, the sound of their footfalls getting further and further away as I studied the dark forest in front of me.

  I wasn’t much of a runner. When you’re a witch, you don’t really need to be. On top of that, I was seventy. And on top of that, I was dressed like a Marshmallow man in a shrunken raincoat.

  I’d known Minnie and Dorothy since we were knee-high, and I’d played enough pranks on them to know the sound of their screams. I rounded a row of trees, completely uncertain of what might be waiting for me, but fearless in the face of needing to protect my witches.

  The fire that I’d left for them burned low, and a thick cloud of black smoke swirled above it. It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t smoke at all, but some kind of heavy fog that extended past the group of cowering witches, swirling around them and dancing across the ground until it reached the legs of a black as night horse.

  The horse reared forward, his eyes glowing red, but its rider yanked on the reigns, drawing him back. My eyes followed the strap of dark leather up to see the body of a man. He was dressed in all black, including his gloves and a long cloak that billowed in the wind.

  “Oh, hey!” I pointed up at him. “Did you guys see that? He’s wearing the same outfit as you.”

  A jack-o-lantern rested under his arm, and the light inside flickered and then roared, revealing a sinister smile.

  “Did you steal that off my porch?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips. “Because I swear that looks just like the one I had.”

  “Are you a witch?” His voice boomed, but it didn’t sound like it was coming from his body or his head exactly. It was like it come from the night itself.

  “That depends. Who wants to know?”

  “Answer the question, witch!” He bellowed.

  “No, I’m not.” I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly.

  “Liar!” He shouted.

  “if you already know the answer then why are you asking the question?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was moments away from charging me with his horse or if I’d knocked him off his game him with my lack of fear, but either way, he and the horse remained motionless.

  “Look, what do you want?” I asked. “You’re out here in the middle of the night scaring women and children. As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t make you a very intimidating opponent. Either tell me what you’re doing here or get lost.”

  He grasped the pumpkin in both hands and set it on top of his neck. I have to say, a guy with a pumpkin head is pretty hilarious. But I had a feeling the moment demanded some seriousness, so I fought the urge to laugh or crack a joke.

  He climbed down from the horse, tossing its reigns up over the horse’s neck.

  The black fog seemed to move with him and I made a mental note to see if I could recreate it later. If nothing else, it was a pretty cool party trick.

  He stood next to his horse and I realized just how large he was. He had to have been close to seven feet tall and he towered over me. The light inside the jack-o-lantern flickered.

  “I’m looking for a witch,” he said carefully, as if he were working hard to control his temper.

  “Yeah, I got that part. The question is why.”

  “I will tell her once I find her,” he answered.

  I let my head fall back and looked heavenward and let out a heavy sigh before I righted myself. “Look, I don’t want to tell you how to do your business, but it might be a little easier to find a witch if you weren’t so mysterious about the whole thing.”

  He cocked his head to the side, and I thought for second the pumpkin might slide right off, but it held steady. By what, I wasn’t sure, but I could only assume it was magic.
<
br />   I locked back over my shoulder to check on my coven and found them huddled together on the opposite side of the bonfire pit, their arms thrust around each other protectively. Well, almost all of them. Helena and Minerva were trying to slink away via a very ineffective version of an army crawl. It looked more like the worm… if that worm was drunk.

  I conjured up the image of their bellies sticking to the ground as if held back a magnetic force, and once I was satisfied by their panicked shrieks, I turned back to the horseman.

  “So you are a witch then,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I gave a slight nod of my head. “You know, I usually don’t admit that to people, but I doubt the guy with a pumpkin head has many people to tell. From what I’ve seen, most people go running and screaming when they see you coming.”

  “Now that I know you’re a witch for certain, I have a request.”

  “Okay, look, pal. I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t care. You can’t just show up in my town on Halloween night, make the shifter kids piss their pants, frighten the warts off my witches, and then have the audacity to demand something from me.”

  “Surely, you’ve heard of me,” he said, his voice raising in volume.

  “I wouldn’t know. You haven’t told me your name.”

  The menacing jack-o-lantern smile flickered with light. “I assumed my given name wasn’t required.”

  “Why? Because you’re the only guy with no head galloping around woods in the middle of the night?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  I smirked and shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But, you know, you’re supposed to be a myth. A scary story to keep kids from wandering in the woods alone at night. Even folks like me—the ones that do believe in monsters—never thought you were real.”

  “And now?”

  I studied him carefully, looking for any hint of a demon or other nefarious creature that might be playing some sick joke in honor of the holiday. But there was nothing, his aura was clean except for the blue so dark that I had missed it at first since it nearly matched the black fog.