Narcisa,
the Witches Wonder Cat Does a Spell © Hannah Richardson a.k.a Kohana Moonleaf
One day, not so long ago, a feisty, little black cat
lay curled up on an ottoman pretending to be asleep. It might have be any other
afternoon with her witchy owners cuddled behind her on the sofa, if not for the
squawking coming from the TV. Tension stirred and filled the air, and the
little black cat feigned a change in position to see what seemed to be
upsetting her witches. As she rose, lazily stretched, and did a slow circle,
before settling back down, she took note of an orange-hued man sniffing and pursing
his lips like a duck between his words.
“Stacie said she’d move to Canada if he gets elected,”
one of the witches said.
The other witch sighed long and heavy.
“What scares me
is that there are actually people who…” she paused as the man blamed the blonde
woman on the TV for something. Both the cat’s witches were quiet for quite some
time, but like them, the little black cat listened. She listened and took note
of how angry sounding, how mean, and how utterly ridiculous this man sounded.
She listened to her witches’ discussion and knew their fears weren’t unsound.
“Good night, Narcisa,” the witches sang out as they
snuggled down in their bed.
Narcisa, the little black cat, trotted in to take her
place in her own bed, as she did every night, just so nothing was out of the
ordinary. But, she would not take her customary nap before heading out to hunt.
No, this night she had work to do.
When the snores of her beloved witches could be heard
and both of them lay still, the little black cat crept from her bed, out of the
bedroom, and down the darken hallway to the spell room. Along the way her foot
brushed one of her belled toys and it rolled down the hall. The jingle was so
loud she was sure one of the witches would wake, but neither stirred. Relieved,
she continued into the spell room and gently closed the door behind her. For a
moment Narcisa fumbled around in the dark until she found her pointy hat, wand,
and cloak. These things were important for her work and had been a present from
her witches at Yule time. She’d pretended not to care about them, but the soft
green velvet felt luxurious to her paws, and the purple feather in her hat was
just the perfect size and fun to bat at when she felt frisky.
“Illuminae,” she whispered and flicked her wand.
Gently, the candles flickered to life and illuminated the room in a soft glow.
Light shinned on jars, big and small, with various ingredients, categorized
alphabetically on one shelf, books on another. Herbs and flowers hung from the
ceiling in different states of drying. Crystals lay on the windowsill soaking
up moon energy right next to a bottle of water. In the middle of the room a
large work table stood and on it sat a cup of pens, a lap top, and a note book.
Narcisa Leapt a top the table, picked her pen, opened
the note book and quickly got to work. After an hour, she opened the lap top
and did a search on the internet and printed what she needed. Next she gathered
her ingredients and began.
Over a photo of the world she sprinkled sea salt,
sage, and lavender. “Orange man with bad tan, vulgar with words and thoughts, Universe
cure us of this man’s wicked, cruel plots.” She moved to the next picture, a
picture of the Orange-hued man and sprinkled chamomile. “Universe take this man
and soothe his troubled heart.” She picked up her wand, tapped both pictures,
and watched the herbs sink in and become one with the paper.
Carefully, Narcisa tucked the evidence of her spell
work away, and cleaned up her mess. She removed her hat and cloak, folded them,
and put them away next to her wand, after blowing out all the candles. Then,
just as quietly as she’d come, she slipped from the spell room and trotted back
into the bedroom where her witches slept.
Three days later the witches sat on the sofa and the
little black cat on her spot on the ottoman. The orange-hued man was back on
the TV, this time his squawking not so intense. Narcisa’s ear twitched as the
man apologized to everyone he’d offended and told the nation that he was
dropping out of the race. More importantly he spoke of his newly sincere devotion
to the needy and how he was giving half his fortune to aid programs. He wanted
to devote his time and energy to national humanitarian work, to make things
happen, because he realized that it truly wouldn’t take much for him to be in a
poor or disabled person’s place.
While the witches gasped and speculated a publicity
stunt, Narcisa, the witches wonder cat, knew it wasn’t because sometimes, it
only takes a little of the right kind of magic to spell a little healing.
*** Author's Note***
I apologize for the tardiness and choppiness of this story. I had a little trouble trying to decide what I was writing and had a rather busy weekend to boot! Be that as it may, I hope you enjoyed it. *hugs*
Please stop by to thank our host,
Magaly Guerrero, and read the other participants' stories for this year.
