In the Forest of Light and Dark

by Kasniak, Mark

  Katelyn told me that, at the time she was just like me in her beliefs, and had never even heard of Wicca. She certainly didn’t believe in witchcraft being real, and she had even thought that the story of Abellona Abbott and of my family’s involvement with her was, just that, a story.

  Katelyn said that she had figured out (After having done her own internet research.) that the animal sacrifice that her former friends were planning to partake in would have to be done at the place where the witch was known to reside. So not having a clue about what she could really do to stop them. Katelyn first elected to tell her parents about the impending crime. Her parents had pretty much just shrugged it off saying that they really just didn’t want to get involved with such matters, that it was none of their business, and therefore not their concern. She then said she had thought about going to the police to report it, but she knew that the police were just like everyone else in the village, and were more than likely willing to turn a blind eye to any acts of mischief or vandalism that were either aimed at, or related to my grandmother.

  So, after not finding any help down either of the two most obvious avenues she had thought to go down. Katelyn then decided that her only other recourse was to go over to my Grandmother Lyanna’s house and warn her herself of what her friends were planning to do.

  Katelyn told me that after she had gotten to my grandmother's house and had knocked on the front door several times, she had gotten no reply. She then tried the bell several times, but still nobody answered. So, she then peered around trying to look in a few windows for movement, but when she had seen none, she’d figured that she was out of luck with giving my grandmother any advanced noticed of what the bitches and their meatheads had planned on doing that evening.

  Katelyn was all set to leave when she said she had noticed that my grandmother's car—which at the time was a red Ford sedan, not the kick-ass black Caddy that my mama now drives—was still parked in the driveway. So, she elected to snoop around and head into the backyard. Because with the property being as big as it is, given the six acres we have, if anybody was actually home, but currently in either the side yard or in the back, there was a good chance they’d not have heard anybody knocking at the front door or ring its bell.

  As Katelyn crept around back, she said the first thing she saw was all the weird garden sculptures that my grandmother had made. They were sitting like monuments in between the sections of roses, black-eyed Susans, and other colorful perennials my grandmother had planted throughout the yard.

  Then, when she had made her way further back, she saw a woman whom she had assumed must have been my Grandmother Lyanna, kneeling in front of a weird alcove looking structure made out of porcelain. She said that it had looked to her like a cast-iron bathtub that’d been stood upright and half buried in the ground.

  In it, dangling from strings, were a few symbols that Katelyn would later come to know as being magic seals. My grandmother would eventually tell Katelyn, she had made them from copper and brass, which allowed them to give off soothing tones like a wind-chime when the breeze knocked them into one another.

  Just below the seals, at the center of the alcove, stood a statue of a woman on a plinth. She was beautiful, with long, flowing hair, and a well-defined face.

  Katelyn watched as my grandmother lit several candles that flickered in the light breeze, but didn't go out. My grandmother then lowered her head in silence to the base of the statue where another plinth lay that had a pentagram fastened to it which Katelyn had thought been crafted from silver.

  Next, Katelyn said that she saw my grandmother hold up what had looked like to her a large bone, possibly even the femur from a deer. It was thick and long, and almost coral white. My grandmother then spoke in a language Katelyn had never heard anyone ever speak before. She then raised the bone up to the sky before lowering it back down to her face. Where she then kissed it before slamming it down upon the silver plinth, using both of her hands to do so, and causing the bone to shatter into dozens of pieces upon impact. Katelyn said that she had thought that given the size of the bone, she could not have ever imagined anyone, even the largest of men, being able to do such a thing. Make such a strong, harden instrument, like the leg bone of a deer burst asunder under the small, delicate hands of which were my grandmother's.

  My grandmother then peered though the marrow and shattered pieces of bone as if reading a message that had been spelled out. She then pulled from her pocket a black velvet satchel, reaching deep into it and pulling forth what looked like a white, grainy substance, much like kosher salt. She then sprinkled it on the bone marrow and had used a large, black feather to mix the salt and marrow cocktail while bending down close as if to read words that had suddenly appeared underneath it on the plinth.

  My grandmother then slowly got up off her knees, whispered something inaudible to the shrine, and then said, “Hello, Katelyn.”

  Taken aback by having been seen, and even more so by my grandmother having already known her name though they’d never met. Katelyn said she felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. She didn't know whether she should stay, or turn around and run having at this point figured that my grandmother really was a witch, at least in practice anyway. But, before she had even the slightest of a chance to make up her mind on fight or flight, my grandmother turned to face her and said, “Come here child. I will not hurt you. I mean you no harm.”

  Katelyn said she stammered out her words when she tried to speak. “I... I’m s-s-sorry to have intruded li-like this, but—”

  “It is okay, my child.” My grandmother then said to her having cut her off mid-sentence. “I like having visitors, and I so rarely have any anymore. Come... Come in. Welcome to my home.”

  Katelyn moved forward cautiously, ready to hightail her ass out of there at the first sign of something amiss. But she told me that as she apprehensively approached my grandmother, she found a sense of well-being falling over her like a veil. She was suddenly cast into a sensation of warmth and security, like that of being held in her mother’s arms as a child, or a really good high.

  Katelyn then told me that she had then, for the first time, looked into my grandmother's eyes, and they were of a radiant green that she had never seen before. A shade that couldn't have been matched if you took all the green in Ireland, magnified it by a thousand, and condensed it back down into two perfect spheres. Katelyn said that my grandmother's eyes appeared more vibrant and full of life than all the world's oceans put together in one tea-cup.

  “You are not the only visitor I will be receiving tonight, are you?” my grandmother had asked her.

  “No. I'm afraid not.” Katelyn told her, albeit still apprehensive. “Some of the other local kids are planning to—”

  “Hush, child. There’s nothing to be afraid of, especially here. This is my home. And, this is my land. I already know what the other children from your school are planning.” My grandmother had said this to Katelyn as if she had firsthand knowledge of the future.

  “You, do?” Katelyn asked her bewildered. Her head still in a whirlwind of what was real, not real, fantasy, delusion, dream, and hallucination all rolled into one.

  “Yes, I do, Katelyn.” my grandmother assured her in a soothing tone. “They cannot hurt me, or my home, or anyone whom my home protects. Those poor chickens on the other hand, may need a little help though. But I will not let any harm come to them either.”

  “What are you going to do?” Katelyn then asked her.

  “I have my ways of handling hoodlums.” My grandmother then said. “But, for the time being, why don’t we go inside the house and have some tea while we wait for our pranksters.”

  It was the first time that Katelyn had ever been inside my grandmother’s house and she said that she was still a little fearful to enter, not yet having felt truly comfortable with my grandmother’s intentions. But after she had entered the house and took the opportunity to look around. She said that she almost instantaneously began to feel more rel
axed. After having noticed that the walls weren’t covered in blood and gore, and that the basement wasn’t a dungeon for holding teenage girls like her imprisoned. She had seen that the house was like any other home. A television sat in the living room, a microwave in the kitchen, pictures of the family hung on the walls, and the Devil was nowhere within sight.

  Katelyn told me that the two of them had then sat in the living room while my grandmother curiously inquired about her life and of her plans for when after she had graduated. Katelyn had asked my grandmother questions like what that weird shrine in the backyard was, and what was it that she’d been doing when she had kneeled before it. My grandmother went on confessing to her—much to Katelyn’s surprise—of being a witch, just not one of the flying around on a broomstick variety.

  My grandmother then told her all about being Wiccan, and in her beliefs.

  Katelyn told my grandmother all about Keri Mahan, Laurie Altman, Hallie Dune, and the jack-offs known as the meatheads.

  Katelyn then told me that it was during this time when she had told my grandmother all about how she had been, as of lately, falling out-of-place at school. As if she had felt herself drifting apart and separating from her friends. That was when my grandmother had mentioned to her my mama for the first time and all the troubles she had experienced while living in Mt. Harrison right around the same age Katelyn was then.

  My grandmother then showed Katelyn some pictures of my mama and of me, telling her all about how my mama just couldn’t handle the taunts and accusing eyes of the villagers anymore. That she had to inure ridicule from them every day, which caused her to become withdrawn and as a result had pushed her to run away down South.

  Katelyn said that my grandmother had told her that she could not run away from her problems like my mama had tried. That these sorts of things had a funny way of following you no matter where you went to hide. She had also told her that the feelings she was experiencing towards her friends and the other people in her life might just be because she had felt that deep inside she didn’t want to be like them. That she felt meant for something greater. That she could grow to become a part of something bigger than herself, this village, and all of its small-mindedness.

  Katelyn then asked my grandmother if she’d be willing to teach her more about her religion, to which my grandmother told her she would if she liked, and then commenced in giving Katelyn her first lesson in becoming a witch. It was a spell of self-assurance, which Katelyn could cast upon herself so she wouldn’t be so troubled to do what she thought, was right. The spell would make it so she wouldn’t be so afraid to go against her friends negative influences if she wished. And she would no longer be frightened of what she thought they would do to her when they surely shunned her for her defiance.

  It wasn’t long, but before Katelyn had realized it, dusk had crept up on her and my grandmother. And, she knew that her friends would soon be there with the chickens they’d pilfered from some poor farmers roost.

  My grandmother had told Katelyn to stay in the living room, saying that nothing bad would come to her as long as she stayed within the confines of the house. She then disappeared after telling Katelyn, she would be back in a short while after she’d taught Katelyn’s former friends a little lesson on stealing, vandalism, trespassing, and animal cruelty.

  My grandmother then left the room, leaving Katelyn there alone in the dark with only a few candles, helping to illuminate the surroundings, but still much was left cloaked in shadows.

  After roughly five minutes or so since Katelyn was left alone in the gloom of the soft candlelight. Was when she said she began hearing noises coming from somewhere outside near the front of the house.

  It was the meatheads. They had actually showed up to carry out their plan just as they had said they would.

  After that night Katelyn would find out through rumors that had circled throughout the school that Harlin and Donnie had used Harlin’s ATV to ride over to the Airingdale farm. Then, while the farmer and his family unsuspectingly sat in their living room watching television, Harlin and Donnie had snuck onto the farmer’s property and stole eight of his chickens from their pens. After pilfering the birds they’d met back up with Erik Myers and the bitches in the village square where they all together set off for my grandmother’s house with their kidnapped fowl stuffed into some old pillow cases.

  Katelyn had made her way over to the windows after she’d heard the noises—pushing back the drapes to see if she could make out if it were her friends causing the ruckus.

  Peering off out into the darkness, in the far distance near the end of the whiny driveway. She said that she could make out the distinct signs of beams of light coming from several flashlights as they pierced through the shadows, bushes, and tree branches while whoever it was holding them had approached.

  As the lights had neared the house, Katelyn could tell that it had indeed been the meatheads, Erik, Donnie, and Harlin each carrying a sack. Keri, Laurie, and Hallie were nowhere in sight though, having most likely stayed at the end of the driveway near the street, keeping watch for black and whites while waiting for the guys to return.

  Katelyn said it was Harlin, who was first to pull one of the birds from out a pillowcase. He then gave a nod and an order in Donnie and Erik’s direction, demanding that they do the same. Harlin then pulled out a pocket knife opening its blade with one hand as he held the fowl firmly with the other. He then called out—aiming his words towards the house—demanding that my grandmother be gone. That she be, “Condemned to burn in hell” as he had put it, and then he set forth in stretching out the bird’s neck with one hand while keeping its body pinned between his elbow and abdomen. The bird struggled to break free of the hold Harlin had on it but couldn’t. Then, when he went to place his knife to the birds exposed gullet, all of a sudden, the lights in the house and the ones hidden throughout the surrounding property all at once turned on bathing the area in awash of illumination.

  Katelyn said that she saw that the meatheads were unexpectedly shocked by being exposed. And, as she watched them stand there on the front lawn completely dumbfounded and not knowing what to do next. Whether it be to leave the chickens and run, piss themselves, or carry on with the slaughtering of the birds. A voice—my grandmother’s voice—unexpectedly came billowing up from somewhere in the dark recesses of the yard.

  Katelyn said that she had instantly recognized the voice as being my grandmother’s, but she had felt it was much too loud, too—bombastic—to be hers. My grandmother’s voice having suddenly become so encompassing that Katelyn figured it must have been magnified by an amplifier hidden away somewhere in the yard. But then she suddenly had to dismiss that thought when she saw my grandmother step forward from out of the darkness. She had seen then that my grandmother wasn’t holding any visible form of microphone or wearing any headpiece, but yet her booming voice continued to echo throughout the property.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” my grandmother had asked the boys, her voice now shaking the house to its very foundation. Harlin replied back, “Fuck you… You Witch!”

  “YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE, AND YOU SHALL NOT HURT ANY OF THOSE BIRDS ON MY PROPERTY!” my grandmother told them as she herself seemed to expand larger than her five foot five-inch frame would have ever lead you to believe.

  The winds then started to pick up, and all the tree branches started to bend and sway back and forth as if they were bowing to her. Their remaining autumn-colored leaves ruffling against one another, filling the air with a hum.

  “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE YOU WITCH! GO BACK TO HELL WHERE YOU CAME FROM!!!” Harlin screamed while Donnie and Erik continued to stand there silent, fowl and knives in hand.

  Harlin then pressed his knife into a bird’s throat and suddenly there was a lightning less clap of thunder that boomed throughout the village like trinitrotoluene, shaking the ground and the house’s windows to their core.

  Katelyn had told me that at that moment of the sudden thunder she had ducked d
own and away from the windows covering her face in fear that they were going to shatter, bathing her in razor-sharp shards of glass.

  The boys had hit-the-deck too at the sound of the sudden crash, ducking their heads and dropping to the ground as if it were an air raid siren.

  Katelyn said that when she’d picked up her head, she saw that my grandmother didn’t as much as flinch though. She just stood resolved before the boys, her arms outstretched before her as if commanding the weather like a maestro. Then, when she raised her hands towards the sky the chickens were suddenly yanked out from the boy’s grasps all at once. Even the remaining birds in the pillow cases had somehow become liberated from the sacks they were being held captive in. The chickens began to take flight circling round-and-round overhead while being carried by the passat winds as if caught in an invisible twister. To Katelyn they appeared as if they were no longer flightless birds of consumption, but birds of prey, circling a potential kill consisting of three scared shitless boys quivering near the ground.

  Katelyn intently kept her eyes on Harlin, Donnie, and Erik as they frightfully watched the birds swirl around-and-around high above them. She even thought she saw Erik Myers pissing his pants.

  Thunder clapped again, this time from somewhere in the distance, and Katelyn said that after that my grandmother said to the boys. “BEGONE FROM HERE. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME ON THIS LAND!!!”

  The boys then took off running; Harlin and Donnie still screaming obscenities at my grandmother as they made their way down the crooked driveway and out into the street.

  After they had left the air began to calm back down, and the birds, then just fluttered their wings easing their descent until they had all reached the ground safely. Then, they just began walking around and went back to clucking like good chickens do.

  Katelyn went to the front door opening it wide and peered out at my grandmother. My grandmother then called to her, telling her to come out into the yard, telling her that the boys had left and wouldn’t be back again. That she had nothing to worry about any longer. My grandmother then picked up one of the chickens and began petting it—Katelyn did the same.