Whose Witch

Whose Witch
16-10-12

It was the general way of things, that a witch was created every time a child was born. Just as in previous generations one spoke of the angel and devil on one's shoulder, in this lifetime it was an angel and a witch. It was generally known that witches were responsible for the bad things you experienced, and, as the good things seemed hard to come by, it was assumed that the angels were dying. So the witches had the job of being both the good and the evil, though some were more inclined to one of the two.

When a person died, or a child was stillborn, a witch was left soulless. That witch would hover above the grave of her person until she faded into nothing. For, while angels could move from one person to the next, witches were bound to one for their lifetime.

It was rare, but it did occur, that a child was born witchless. On these occasions, sometimes, nature would allow a soulless witch to be given a second chance. It was rare; normally the person would be left alone with only their angel, or with nobody if their angel never arrived, and the witch would be left to slowly fade away in the graveyard. The only problem with this situation, was that the witch would still mourn the loss of her first person – that was her lot in life. So the witch would always only be half a companion to the new charge.

It was even sadder when miscarriages or abortions occurred. There it wasn't just one soul that died, the witch died too. It wasn't a slow fade into nothing, but a sudden burst of pain as her heart was popped or sucked away. Every witch feared the death of their charge, for without the humans, the witches were nothing.

*** *** ***
It was midmorning in the graveyard, and a plethora of witches could be seen. Some were merely shimmers, their human had been dead for so long that their own time was nearly up. However, at this moment a burial was taking place, and the elder witches were watching a newcomer mourning for her human.

There were stifled sobs, and the witches could see the newcomer hovering above the mound of earth.

"My baby! My little boy!" Someone wailed.

"It was your fault!" Someone shouted. The funeral erupted into brief chaos. "You shouldn't have left him unattended!" Slowly the shouting ceased and the mourners moved away. Only the witch remained at the graveside.

Looking around shyly at the other witches, the newcomer nodded briefly, ghostly tears staining her transparent cheeks.

"What's his name?" One of the old-timers called out softly.

Nodding at the grave the newcomer replied. "Thomas Johnson. He was run over while chasing a ball into the road – only two years old." There were nods of sympathy – this witch was so young, and all that was left for her was a lifetime of haunting a graveyard.

"What's your name?" An old-timer who was extremely translucent asked. It wouldn't be long before her time as a mourner for her person would be up.

"Calissa."

The witches nodded in greeting, those who could remember them each whispering their own name in return.

*** *** ***
"Just one more push Mrs Jones. Just one more and the first one will be out."

Squeezing her husband's hand like a vice Elizabeth Jones screamed out with effort, "I curse you for this Howard!" Then in a sudden burst of energy and pain she pushed one last time.

There was a few seconds of silence and heavy breathing, and then the welcome wail of a newborn child. "Congratulations Mrs Jones," the doctor was beaming. "You have a healthy baby girl." There was a moment of silence, allowing Elizabeth some time to regroup, before the contractions reoccurred. In a few minutes her second child was born.

Again there was a few seconds of silence, where the only sound was heavy breathing from Elizabeth and patient hope from the medical team. Then a wail and everyone relaxed. "Congratulations again Mrs Jones. It's a boy."

Howard continued filming the birth with his one remaining hand until the nurses took the babies away. Turning to his wife, who looked a bit peaky, he stroked her sweaty head. "Nice job hun. A girl! And a boy! Can you imagine that!" He kissed her gently before leaving so that the doctors and nurses could clean her up.

*** *** ***
Following the children to the nursery, unseen by the world, was a single witch. She knew that she should have another witch with her, but the boy didn't seem to have a companion. Whispering gently into the ear of her little girl she reassured the child that all would be well. It seemed as if she would have to be both the good and bad for her charge, as no angel had showed up. But underneath her love for the little girl, the witch felt pity for the boy – he would have no companion, part of his soul would always be missing.

*** *** ***
Calissa traced the name on the tombstone, numb with grief. Her little boy, gone. It had been a month since his death, but the loss was still as sharp as the moment it had occurred and the bond between them had been severed.

Feeling a disturbance in the air around her, she looked up. A swirling mist, like a tiny tornado, was turning slowly before her. The graveyard went silent, each witch watching the spectacle. For some, this had occurred before and they rejoiced for Calissa. For others, the younger ones, they had never seen this happen and they were curious.

"Calissa." A voice came from inside the mist. "Cather your grief into your heart and prepare yourself. You have a new charge. A baby was born today, part of a twin, without a companion. You have been chosen to accompany them through their life. Gather your grief, gather your courage, and leave this place. You will know where to find your charge." The mist vanished.

The elder witches smiled. It was always nice to see someone given a second chance, especially if their charge had died so young. Now Calissa could live a full life. Some of the younger witches turned away in jealousy. Why had she been chosen and not them?

*** *** ***
The twins were sleeping in the nursery and Elizabeth Jones was resting in her room. Howard had gone to place an announcement in the paper to celebrate the birth of his children, and then he would be coming back to visit his family.

Hovering about the girl, who now bore the name Sarah, was her witch. Concerned, she watched the boy, James, thrash about in his crib. He seemed to be having a nightmare and there was nobody to soothe him. Then with a small burst of air, like a silent fart, a witch appeared above the babies.

"What's your name?" Calissa asked.

"Bee. Yours?"

"Calissa."

The two witches regarded each other warily, and then shook hands. They would be working together after all.

"Whose witch are you?"

"The girl's. Sarah."

Calissa regarded the boy with trepidation. "What's his name?"

"James. James Jones."

Grief briefly flooded across Calissa's face as she remembered her little one, Thomas. How cruel life was to assign her to another boy, when she still had one so close to her heart, but collecting herself she stroked James's head and soothed his nightmare. The boy stopped thrashing and smiled in his sleep.

The two witches regarded each other in companionable silence. Then they looked around the room at the other children, each with their own witch watching over them.

"They are so lucky," Bee remarked.

"Who?"

"The children. Imagine not having someone to look after them? Who would guide them through tough choices? Who would comfort them in the dead of the night when they mourn lost love?"

Calissa nodded, but her heart was divided. She knew that she had to focus on James, but she also knew that she would never forget Thomas. She would have to do a better job this time, if the situation arose. Try harder to persuade him not to run into the street, if it came to that. A hand touched her shoulder.

"You will never forget him, but you will be a better witch to James than I can be to Sarah. You have experience to draw from, even though it may only be brief. Remember that."

Calissa nodded, and wiped away the tears that had fallen unbidden and unnoticed from her eyes. She knew that she would never forget Thomas, but she knew that second chances were rare. James could have been left witchless, and grown up lonely. Now she had a chance to change that. I'm James's witch now. She thought. Whose witch? James's witch.