The Last Ride
She lifted up her head and peered outside through
the frosted window. Wrinkled eyes gazed into the
bright sky, and a smile came over the old woman’s
face when she saw the full moon, shining away in all
its harvest glory, a perfect background setting
for All Hallow’s Eve.
A loud purring reached her ears as a black cat leaped
up on the table next to the rocking chair she was
sitting in.
"Yes, my sweets. Isn’t that a pretty night we have in
store for us? Old man moon looks down on us with a
wink in his eye tonight."
The cat stared at her with deep green eyes,
attention fixed on every word.
"You know what this night means, don’t you, Trickster?"
The cat let out a soft meow, listening to his master.
"It is the passing of an age, that is what. Many
long years, happy memories, but there is an ending
to every story, good and bad. Ol’ Madge here has
seen it all, yes I have."
The old woman pushed herself up from the chair, one
gnarled hand stroking the silken fur of Trickster.
There was a creaking noise as old bones cracked within
the ancient body, stiff joints groaning in protest
at the effort made by her to straighten up.
"Ah, this craggy old girl ain’t what she used to be.
Need a dose of the ointment before I go, that’ll fix
me for a little while."
Madge walked over towards a large oaken trunk that
was filled with an assortment of herbs, spices, animal
parts, jarred collections of insects, packaged powders,
and numerous other odds and ends. They were the
tools of her trade.
Rummaging through the contents, she found a sachet
containing some brown colored leaves, and when she
opened it a sweet odor wafted outwards.
"Hmm, this will do fine." The crone went over to a
wooden cabinet which had vials of liquid scattered
about the shelves. She grabbed a tube with a bubbly
fluid inside with a purple tinge to it, and then
poured the leaves in.
Wispy curls of vapor rose up, and the old woman drank
deeply. A look of revulsion crossed her face at the
bitter taste, but she shook it off.
"Not the fountain of youth, but it bestows on me a
glimmer of strength, and that is all I need." She
smacked her dry lips together, and smiled with glee.
Madge hobbled over to the great stone fireplace that
warmed the cottage, and a black cauldron was resting
above the burning flames. A green liquid boiled away
in a frenzy, fat bubbles oozing from the surface. She
stirred the mixture with a metal ladle.
"Double, bubble, toil and trouble!"
"Double, bubble, toil and trouble!’
Cackling with delight, the old woman churned the
foul broth with renewed vigor. The cauldron hissed
in answer, and the brew began to fizzle over.
"Ha ha, that’s it. A ghastly potion for a ghostly night!"
Madge nodded to herself, and the flames danced before
her, casting lurid shadows on the walls of the cottage.
The image behind the cat grew in size, reaching
the proportions of a great beast which was many
times the feline’s actual body shape.
Trickster growled, his dark mane bristling. The master
made a gesture in the air, and the front door burst
open as the black cat sprang into the night, the
transformation beginning to take place. A howl echoed
from the woods outside, and Madge shouted in response,
the language old and archaic.
"Rejoice in the wild, my pet. The night calls.
Until the sun comes up, when you must return."
A gust of wind blasted against the cottage, slamming
the door shut with a loud crash. The old woman’s
wizened face had a trace of sadness on it, and
she let out a deep sigh.
"It is almost time, must make haste."
Madge opened the closet and reached inside, tenderly
bringing out a worn garb, black as the night. A tear
trickled from the corner of an eye, moistening the
callused cheek beneath.
"So many years, where have they all gone? How will
I be able to face
the next one, knowing that
my time is done?"
She pulled the raiment tightly about herself,
cherishing the feel of the familiar outfit. The
cloak gave her comfort and security.
"Such little time, and too many things to fill
it with, ‘tis a pity."
There was an upper shelf inside the closet, and
from this she brought out a rumpled black hat,
pointed at the top in the shape of a narrow cone.
"Hee hee hee," she chuckled. "A pointed cone for
a crooked crone." She set the hat on her head,
and brushed back the strands of silver hair that
lay tangled down to her shoulders. She began to
feel much younger and stronger, but it was only
wishful thinking. Potions could give her a teasing
of both, but that was it.
Madge crossed to the other side of the room, wooden
floor boards creaking underneath her musty black
boots. The heels clicked softly with her passing.
A reading desk sat in the corner, and a dusty tome
sprawled along the top. Strange words and symbols
were etched onto the crinkled pages, the lettering
written in blood. She leafed through until she found
the proper incantation, then closed the book with a snap.
"Long ago, I could recite nearly every line of
verse in half that script. But now....." The old
woman shook her head, again being overcome
with remorse.
"More’s the pity, old hag, I’ve had my turn. The
wheels of time roll on without stopping, and my
moment has arrived to step aside. Only fond
memories, no regrets."
The old woman’s gaze wandered the trappings of
the cottage, her domain for countless years. Yes,
fate had treated her well, there
was no denial.
"And now, my friend, who has served me so well
these many years. Will you answer the summons
yet again, on this night of all nights?
Madge spread her arms wide in appeal, pale yellow
eyes closed in concentration. The wind picked up
outside, and tree branches scratched against
the window panes, bent stick arms moving in
wooden animation, responding to the surge of dark
power that was building within the cottage.
There was a flash of brilliance radiating from
a section of stone next to the fireplace, and
a secret panel was revealed. From the compartment
emerged a long broom, stark in opaque blackness,
levitating towards the old woman.
"Ha ha ha, come to me! It is our time again.
The sisters await!"
The broom continued floating, and it came within
the crone’s eager grasp as it throbbed with
power, pulsating with diabolical energy.
Madge held the broom up triumphantly, and opened
the front door. A strong breeze was blowing,
and fallen leaves covered the mossy earth.
Sinister figures crouched within the surrounding
shadows, lurking among the trees.
It was Halloween night, and spirits of the nights
had awakened in unholy celebration.
Madge sat astride the enchanted broom, and up
she flew to meet with her fellow sisters of
the coven. This was her last time as the coven
leader, and a new one would be sworn in this
Hallow’s Eve.
She gazed up at the awaiting sky, spotting others
of her wicked brethren. It was Halloween night,
and for the last time, into that magical night,
rode the form of the witch, on her last moonlight ride.
The End
©Paul Melniczek
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