Mother Knows Best: A Tale of the Old Witch

by Serena Valentino

  “Hazel, look!”

  The vortex was getting closer, devouring everything in its path. The trees, the tombstones, and the remains of the conservatory.

  “We have to find Gothel! Come on.”

  Hazel took Primrose by the hand and they ran down the stairs, speeding past the open windows. They could see the vortex getting closer and closer. When they reached the vestibule, they found a legion of skeletons barring them from leaving the house.

  “Oh my gods, Hazel! What’s going on?”

  Forging a path of destruction, the vortex headed toward the house, consuming the sea of skeletons surrounding it.

  “Prim, we have to run! It’s coming right for us!”

  The girls ran as fast as they could. They didn’t dare look back, but they could hear the sounds of the house being torn apart and sucked into the vortex as they ran. “Primrose! Don’t look back, just run!”

  And then they heard a deafening scream unlike anything they had ever heard before. It was their sister. Gothel stood in the rubble, staring at the eye of the vortex as if daring it to come closer.

  “Mother, stop!” she bellowed, putting her hand in front of her like a shield.

  A terrible screeching voice echoed in the witches’ ears, reverberating throughout the house, crumbling the remains of the stone mansion.

  “Stay away from my sisters, you witch!” Gothel yelled with a resonance in her voice her sisters had never heard before.

  “You thought I would let you get away with murdering me and taking my place with these abominations at your side? Then you’re a bigger fool than I imagined. You are destined to be alone, Gothel!”

  The vortex became smaller, focusing its energy and eye on Primrose and Hazel, bringing them to their knees and making them scream in pain. “Mother, no, don’t take them from me, I beg you!”

  Manea’s laugh filled Hazel’s and Primrose’s ears, making them bleed. They screamed while Gothel watched in horror.

  “Mother, stop!” Gothel screamed, but she knew no matter how much she begged, her mother wouldn’t care. She needed to do something to save her sisters. And then she remembered something she had read in one of her mother’s spell books, The Art of Spoken Spell-Craft. She quickly said the first words that came to mind and wished with all her soul that they would work. “I call upon the old gods and the new. Send our mother to the mists. Make our lives anew!”

  Manea screamed. “Gothel, stop! No! You don’t know what you’re doing!” But Gothel kept reciting the words. It was as if they came to her on the winds. As if they came from another world. “I call upon the old gods and the new. Send our mother to the mists. Make our lives anew!”

  “Gothel, no!” screamed the queen of the dead as the vortex condensed, collapsing, and then exploded, shattering into a thick rancid dust that covered everything in sight.

  “Primrose! Hazel! Are you okay?”

  Gothel ran to her sisters. They looked like onyx statues, covered in the black dust. Please don’t die! Please don’t die.

  “Prim! Hazel?” Gothel was wiping the soot from her sisters’ faces. “Prim! Please wake up!” said Gothel, slapping her sister’s cheek. “Prim! I said wake up!”

  “Gods, Gothel! What’s all over you?”

  Gothel laughed. She’s alive. Coughing, Hazel woke to the sound of Gothel’s laugh. “Hazel? Are you okay?”

  “I think so. Is Mother gone?”

  “I think so,” said Gothel, looking around the room, which was entirely covered in thick black dust.

  The three sisters sat there, looking at their house. There was a giant hole where their vestibule and staircase used to be. Bones were scattered everywhere, and there were tree branches in the chandeliers.

  “Gothel! How did you do that?” asked Hazel, looking at her sister in amazement.

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  Gothel looked at her sisters. She had no idea how she had destroyed her mother. She was just happy her sisters hadn’t died in the process.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Primrose. “Our house is destroyed.”

  “We will have it rebuilt exactly the way we want!” said Gothel. “We will have a new house and a new life. A beautiful life. I promise you.”

  “How are we going to do that?” asked Primrose.

  “We have Jacob, and Mother’s creatures.”

  “I think they’re your creatures now, Gothel,” said Hazel.

  “I think you’re right.”

  The young witches were tucked away in the carriage house while their home was being renovated. Every day brought a new wave of wagons, dozens of them bursting with building materials. Gothel sat at the large window, watching the skeletons unload the wagons as her sisters slept. It had been several months since she had sent her mother to the mists, but her sisters still seemed traumatized and exhausted, spending much of their time in bed or sitting in the courtyard, staring blankly at the minions doing their work. She didn’t know how to make them better. How to put their minds at ease. Every day came the same questions: Was Mother really gone? Would she come back? How had Gothel stopped her from killing them?

  Gothel didn’t know the answers. She was just thankful she hadn’t lost them. But as the weeks and months went by, she felt as if she was losing her sisters to their fear and melancholy.

  There was a knock at the carriage house door. She quickly answered it, hoping the noise wouldn’t wake her sisters. It was Jacob.

  “Hello, Sir Jacob.”

  “Hello, little witch. More wagons have arrived.”

  “I see that. Thank you for seeing to everything.”

  “It’s my pleasure, little witch.” He lingered in the doorway a moment longer.

  “Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” asked Gothel, wondering what Jacob might be up to. It wasn’t like him to be idle.

  “Yes, a wagon arrived I think you would like to see. Will you please come with me?” said Jacob. He seemed very pleased with himself.

  She followed him into the courtyard, marveling at all the beautiful statues and the fountain. “I love the courtyard, Jacob, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Lady Gothel.”

  “I wonder what my sisters think of a Gorgon statue in our fountain?” she said, not meaning to say it aloud.

  “I thought we should keep with the original themes for our new statuary and carvings. You don’t like it?”

  “No, Jacob, I love it. Please don’t worry. I think it’s beautiful. However, my sisters, especially Primrose, don’t always share my aesthetic. Perhaps we can get some statues of frolicking dancers to surround the Gorgon? Something to make the tableau lighter. More lighthearted?”

  “Yes, my little witch. As you wish,” said Jacob as they made their way to the wagon.

  Gothel gasped when she saw the wagon. It was laden with supplies and decorations for the winter solstice.

  “I thought you would like it. I hoped you wouldn’t mind I took it upon myself to order items for the winter solstice.”

  “No! Not at all. This is amazing. Primrose and Hazel will be so excited.”

  “I hoped that would be the case, my lady.”

  “This is incredible, Jacob. Maybe this will cheer them up! It’s too bad the house won’t be ready in time for the solstice.”

  “That is the other reason I wanted to speak with you. I think the house may be ready by the solstice.”

  “Really?” asked Gothel, truly excited for the first time in weeks.

  “The foundation is sound, and the upper rooms are finished. We will be doing work downstairs for several more months, but there is no reason you can’t move into your rooms, and decorate the morning room for the solstice.”

  “The morning room? It’s finished?”

  “Yes, Gothel.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  Sir Jacob led Gothel into the house. It was strange; she had never imagined seeing the house this way, so a
iry and light, so open and filled with windows. There was a striking contrast between the renovated areas and the parts of the house that had not been destroyed in the confrontation with her mother. It was like walking the fine line between dreams and nightmares.

  The rooms dominated by the stone carvings were like another world altogether. Gothel had never seen it that way before, not until she saw them in contrast to the new rooms. She imagined Primrose saying it was like waking up from a terrible dream. Yet somehow the old part of the house was even more beautiful in Gothel’s eyes. The gargoyles perched on sconces didn’t seem to be leering at her, but rather looking down at her protectively.

  “Come this way, lady, I will show you the morning room.”

  It was exactly how Gothel had imagined it would look when she asked Jacob to have it built, filled with windows on every side, almost like a lighthouse. She was happy she had asked him to create that room for her sisters. A room with light. A room for celebrations, where they could make new memories so they could forget all the terrible things that had happened with their mother. The morning room was octagonal, and there were window seats in almost every nook. And in the center of the room was a massive winter solstice tree stretching up to the glass dome ceiling. Beside the tree were wooden crates bursting with decorations for Gothel and her sisters to put up. She saw little birds, shiny golden balls, silver stars, and red hearts made of glass. Oh! Primrose is going to love those!

  “This is going to make my sisters so happy. Thank you, Sir Jacob. Thank you so much.”

  “Of course, my lady. I see no reason why you shouldn’t move in straightaway.”

  “I agree! I can’t wait to tell my sisters.”

  “I will leave you to that, then, lady, so I may get back to my other duties.”

  “Before you go, Jacob, I have question.” But Jacob already knew what Gothel was going to ask him. And his answer was the same as it had been the countless times she had asked the question before.

  “As I said before, my little witch, I haven’t heard anything from your mother. I do believe you successfully sent her to the mists.”

  “But how?” asked Gothel, her gray eyes wide.

  “Only you can answer that, my little witch.”

  “That’s the problem—I can’t.”

  The young witches were all moved into the main house and getting ready for the winter solstice. They inhabited most of the second floor but spent the majority of their time in the new morning room, the old library, and their bedrooms. Since the dining room was still under construction, they took most of their meals in the morning room. This day they were enjoying their breakfast while sitting in one of the window seats, their tea and biscuits before them on a little round table.

  Since the confrontation with their mother, the dead woods hadn’t been so dreary. Even with winter coming, the sky seemed less gray, and they sometimes even got sunlight in the morning room. They had a spectacular panoramic view of the dead woods, and they could see all the way to the thicket in every direction.

  “I wonder when we will see the first snowfall,” said Gothel. “Hazel, do you smell snow?”

  “Not yet, Gothel. But soon.”

  They were preparing for the longest night. This year, Gothel had her own ideas of how to celebrate now that their mother wasn’t there to dictate how they spent their holidays. Usually it was a somber affair, everyone in black and the main house entirely dark and freezing cold. Their mother wouldn’t even allow fires in the hearths on the longest night. Manea welcomed the death of winter and celebrated the longest night with a day of fasting and the reciting of the names of all their ancestors while leaving them little gifts and offerings of their favorite foods on a communal alter. It was a somber version of Samhain, during which the lives of their ancestors were celebrated. Manea had little oval oil paintings of all their ancestors in wooden frames, which she set on the family altar, and she would tell the girls their stories in succession. After the stories, they would stand at the altar, looking at the portraits in silence, careful to stay perfectly still so as not to frighten away the ghosts of their ancestors should they decide to visit them on the longest night.

  This year there will be a portrait of Mother among the others.

  Her sisters didn’t seem to be excited about the solstice even though Gothel had gone out of her way to make sure they’d enjoy themselves. Never once in their entire upbringing had their mother allowed them to have a solstice tree or exchange gifts, and Gothel thought having the tree would lighten her sisters’ heavy hearts, but they still moped around the house, lackluster and peaky.

  “We should decorate the solstice tree today, Primrose!” said Gothel as she smeared chocolate hazelnut spread on a biscuit, looking at the bare tree.

  “If you wish, Gothel,” said Primrose, yawning.

  “What’s wrong, Prim? Are you okay? Still not feeling well?”

  “I’m just exhausted all the time. And honestly I’m not excited about the longest night.”

  “That’s because I haven’t told you how we’re going to celebrate!”

  “We’re going to do what we do every year,” said Hazel, picking at a biscuit.

  Hazel had gotten frightfully thin the past few months, and her eyes looked weary. Both of Gothel’s sisters looked pallid, actually. Gothel looked at them, wondering what she could do to liven their spirits.

  “We’re going to fill this entire house with light!”

  “What?” asked Hazel and Primrose in unison.

  “You heard me! Every single room will be filled with light! Look out the window! The wagons arrived this morning while you were sleeping!”

  Primrose and Hazel went to windows that faced the courtyard. Sir Jacob was down there, directing their minions like a wizard performing magic on a windy hilltop, gesticulating and pointing in various directions with great fervor.

  “Are those candles?”

  “Yes! Wagons and wagons of them! We are going to infuse this house with light! I’ve been reading about how other witches celebrate the longest night, and there are some witches who feel it’s best to make it a celebration of light.”

  “Where did you read that?” asked Hazel.

  “In one of the books that came in one of Jacob’s many wagons.”

  “You’ve grown rather dependent upon him. Do you think that’s wise?” asked Primrose.

  “He’s happy to have the work. He likes to be busy. Mother always kept him tucked away in his crypt unless she needed him for battle or to handle the deliveries.”

  “He never sleeps, Gothel! He’s always awake, doing things for us!” said Hazel, making Gothel laugh.

  “You’re right, he never sleeps. And he’d rather have something to do than sit in his crypt, waiting to be called upon. I’ve talked to him about this already, Hazel. I promise this is what he’d prefer.”

  “And what about the minions? Do you let them rest?” Hazel asked.

  “Hazel, we’ve gone over this so many times. He works them in shifts, letting them sleep for days at a time before they have to work again. And before you ask again, the children are not awake in their graves, they’re sleeping.” Gothel stood up and walked over to her sister. “Hazel, I’m worried about you. You keep forgetting things.”

  “I’m just tired, Gothel. I’m fine.”

  “You’re getting so thin. Can you please eat, just a little bit? Isn’t there something I can tempt you with? Is there something I can have Jacob fetch for you?”

  “No, Gothel. I’m fine. I think I’ll go to my room and lie down. I have a headache.”

  “Okay, Hazel, rest well.”

  Gothel watched nervously as her sister left the room. Never in their lives had any of them been ill. It just didn’t happen. Gothel didn’t know what to make of that. She decided she would spend the day in her mother’s library and see if there was something she could do to help Hazel.

  “Prim, I’m going to Mother’s library. Do you want to put some of those red hearts on the t
ree? I had them made for you.”

  “Yes, I think I will. Can you ask Jacob to send someone up to help with the boxes?”

  “Really? I didn’t think you’d want any of Mother’s creatures in here.”

  “I feel a little differently now. Some of them were destroyed while protecting us from Mother. They’re our creatures now.”

  “I’m happy you see it that way. I’ll have Jacob send someone up to help you.”

  As Gothel made her way out of the morning room and down to her mother’s private library, she ran into Jacob, who was supervising the renovations in the dining room.

  “It’s starting to come together in here,” she said, looking around the room.

  “Hello, Lady Gothel.” Jacob always addressed her as such when they were around the other minions or her sisters. Otherwise he would call her “little witch,” which she had started to find very endearing. Gothel honestly didn’t know what she would do without him. “Lady, I had some questions for you about this room. You said you wanted shutters on these windows?”

  Gothel was awestruck by the majesty of the room now. It still had its stone carvings of harpies and ravens in flight and its many large windows cut right out of the stone, but the minion workers had installed hinged windows so the room could still be open to the elements if they chose. It was brilliant the way they had done it, with the frames of the windows painted to match the stone, giving the room the illusion of looking as it had before. The contrast between the dark stone and the grayish-blue sky was remarkable. “I’m not so sure I do now.”

  “I thought you might feel differently. I hope you don’t mind I had the windows fitted. It seemed a shame to shut out the view and the light.”

  “You’re right. And I love the new table, chairs, rugs, and red tapestries. Oh! And the chandeliers and new wall sconces! Thank you, Jacob!”

  “My pleasure,” said Jacob, betraying some pride in his work.

  “Jacob?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you truly happy with all this work? Hazel and Primrose have been worried about you.”

  “I am quite happy, my little witch,” said Jacob under his breath. “But I am worried about your sisters. I don’t wish to alarm you, but I’m afraid your mother caused them permanent damage during the attack. I don’t wish to overstep, little witch, but I think it’s time to explore the situation.”