Witch! Witch! Witch!

Photo by Adonyi Gu00e1bor on Pexels.com

A night of terror. Of voices in the dark, asking questions she cannot answer, demanding truth instead of lies in the face of accusation.

Dawn finds her tethered to a post. Bound and blindfolded, her heart races with fear, anger, frustrated by small minds and superstitions.

She isn’t dangerous, only different.

By the time they realise, it will be too late.

She smells smoke, hears crackling, knows the fire has taken hold. The heat intensifies.

It won’t be long now…


Written for: Weekend Writing Prompt #216 – Tether | Word count: 80 words

Excavating the Archives: Lady Luna

Night time

By the silver stream

Endlessly flowing

She descends to the Earth

From Her home in the Moon.

Her name’s Lady Luna

She’s Queen of the Heavens.

With the magic of Starlight

She sings Destiny’s tune.

*

Throughout the night-time

She walks with the Mysteries

Casting Her spells

To which none are immune.

Charming, enchanting

Bewitching, beguiling.

With the magic of Moonlight

She casts Destiny’s rune.


From September 2015, https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2015/09/28/lady-luna/

Dreaming in Purple – An Andromache Jones Mini Mystery

dreaming-in-purple-cover

It’s the day of the Bramblesgrove Village Fair and Andromache Jones is giving away free tarot readings. However, she woke that morning recalling she had dreamt in purple. And that can only mean one thing…something quite extraordinary is going to happen.

Dreaming in Purple is the first Andromache Jones Mini Mystery.  If you’ve yet to read the other Andromache Jones Mysteries, this very short story will serve as a great introduction to the witchy sleuth.

To read this free short story, click the cover above, or follow this link.  And if you do read it, don’t forget to let me know what you think!

A Witch’s Work

the-crystal-ball-by-john-william-waterhouse-picture-credit-wikipedia

The Crystal Ball by John William Waterhouse (picture credit: Wikipedia)

When the silence falls about you

When the darkness is complete

When you’re lost and know no other

Knock on my door and take a seat.

*

Holding hands we’ll light a candle

Cast a charm, a spell, a rite

Draw a card and see a vision

Working magic all through the night

*

You won’t remember what brought you hither

When day breaks, so bold, so bright

For the Moon has fled with all your worries

And the Sun’s filled your soul with light

Excavating the Archives: The Witch’s Candle

witchcraft flash fiction

When darkness descends

The candle does light

By it’s illumination

I work ritual and rite.

*

The flame flickers and dances

To my circle I will

Spirits and Guardians

My spell to fulfil.

*

Time-honoured enchantments

Witchcraft of old

Ancient raw magic’s

A sight to behold.

*

When night’s precious darkness

Gives way to the sun

The spell is all over

And my will be done.

*

So, if you’ve a problem

Come visit me

And by the light of my candle

I’ll amend things for thee.


This was one of the first poems that I actually posted on this blog, back on the 1 July 2015.

New Dimension (poem)

candle in the dark

She grasped the candle
In both hands
Spilt melted wax
Upon the land
Whispered words
Of magic past
Closed her eyes
Home at last
The air it tingled
In colours bold
Keep it close
To have, to hold
In light of moon
In light of stars
That which she seeks
Is not that far
Giving voice to
Her intention
Brings forth change
A new dimension

Excavating the Archives: The Cauldron

witchcraft flash fictionThe cauldron was ancient.  I didn’t know how old it was, but you could tell it was very old from just looking at it.

It had been passed down from mother-to-daughter for generations.  So the story goes.

I had never used it before.  But then, I had no need to.  Until now.

Yesterday I had rummaged through the spare room where it had been carefully stowed away since I had inherited it some ten years ago. I knew I had found the right box as soon as I laid my eyes upon it.  Unlike all the other dusty cardboard boxes clogging up the room, the cauldron was stored in its own dusty wooden box, complete with iron clasps and lock, painted black.

But that was as far as I had dared to go.  Finding the box.  When the box was in my hands, I talk myself out of needing to open it, out of needing to get out the cauldron, out of using magic to fix my current predicament.  I told myself I would sleep on it and make the decision in the morning.

But I didn’t sleep.  Couldn’t sleep.  I kept thinking about the cauldron.  I kept thinking that the answer to my problem was only a matter of a few feet away, in the room next door.

Getting out of bed, I was drawn to the wooden box, to the cauldron.  I walked out of my bedroom, and along the landing.  I heard the clock at the bottom of the stairs chime the hour.  It was midnight.  I recalled my Grandmother had always called it the ‘witching hour’, which was apt, given what I was about to do.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the spare room.  The box was sitting on the floor, just inside.  I had forgotten to close the curtains in the empty room, and now the moon was shining through the window, bathing the box in silver light.

It looked magical.  It looked powerful. Yet I felt safe as I approached it.  Like I was supposed to use it.

Crouching on the floor, I lifted the lid and carefully pulled out the cauldron.  Sitting in the bottom were two items: an ornately decorated wooden spoon and a little old book.  There was no writing on its cover.  I turned to the first page where in a spidery script words announced what was apparently the most important rule when using the cauldron.  Stir clockwise to attract.  Stir anticlockwise to banish.

It sounded simple enough.

I took up the spoon and held it suspended in the space inside the cauldron.  I closed my eyes and concentrated on what I needed to do.  Then I began to stir…


This piece was originally written and posted on this blog back in June 2014.  It is also one of the thirteen stories / chapters to be found in Chronicles of the Craft which can be read here, for free, via Wattpad.

Jingle Spells, Jingle Spells, Jingle All The Way…

I am either late with this, or very, very early…don’t worry; things will become clear in a moment…

I have some exciting Christmas-themed news to share.  I have had another short story published in anthology.  A Christmas anthology, whose very cool title is Jingle Spells.  Now everything makes sense! 😀

The anthology has been put together and edited by the very talented Heather Marie Adkins, who runs CyberWitch Press.  This is the press’s first anthology, and I owe Heather a big thank you for all her hard work.  I didn’t make things easy for her as she not only had to edit my story but change my spelling from British English to American English so that all the stories in the collection are consistent.  Isn’t the cover pretty 🙂

Jingle Spells Cover

I am honoured to have my story feature in such an amazing anthology, alongside such amazing authors.

Here’s the book’s description:

Jingle Spells

Jingle Spells is a feel-good holiday collection of witch-themed tales, from a witch hunt at the winter solstice, to a Christmas dinner in danger of being ruined by an imp. Here you will find a sparkly pair of shoes holding one woman’s destiny, and a magical, mystery-solving cup of latte. Meet a broken young woman unaware of the powers she possesses, and a teenage boy with the fate of the world on his shoulders.

Featuring short stories from veteran authors J. Laslie, Sidonia Rose, and Heather Marie Adkins, and introducing Sammi Cox, Brittany White, and K. Laslie. Sit back with a steaming mug, light up the fireplace, and enjoy these six tales of magic, mayhem, and love.

Solstice Flames by J. Laslie
A Midwinter Manifestation by Sammi Cox
The Witch’s Shoes by Sidonia Rose
Molly by Brittany White
Holiday Dreams by K. Laslie
The Witch’s Brew by Heather Marie Adkins

My own short story, A Midwinter Manifestation is about Maeve Featherstone, a modern-day sorceress whose presence is required when Evie Whitworth dabbles in magic when she’s been repeatedly told she shouldn’t.  So, if you like stories set around the Winter Solstice, if you like imps, if you like all things magical and witchy, please have a read.

Currently, Jingle Spells is available to download for FREE from Smashwords, Kobo, Barnes and Noble and iBooks.  It is available from Amazon, but we are waiting for it to go free before we start sending people that way – though feel free to keep checking 🙂  A print edition will follow soon.  I will keep you updated!

Links for the Jingle Spells anthology:

Smashwords

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

Crystal Practicalities

I must confess that for this week’s prompt, I have cheated a little.  I had thought that I might write something about the lump of rose quartz currently sitting on my desk…And yet, when I sat down to write, I recalled a short story I wrote a few years ago that has sat neglected, untitled and unedited since the day I penned it.  So, now titled and reworked, I offer it up for this week’s Monday Inspiration – A Selection of Crystals


‘An’ it harm none, do what you will,’ Megan ended the chant. Her heart was racing; she hadn’t realised until she had uttered the final words just how consuming this ritual was.

Although Megan had been a practising witch for many years, the ritual she had just completed was beyond anything else she had ever worked before, but not in terms of complexity. Rather it was the fact that this was the first time she had worked with another person whilst doing her Craft.

‘My skin’s tingling,’ Megan said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to get it to stop. It wasn’t so much that it hurt or was uncomfortable, but the sensation was unfamiliar.

‘Mine, too,’ replied James, trying not to laugh at the faces she was pulling. James had never practised the Craft alone. His chosen path meant that he preferred to operate in a setting where the male and female energies were balanced. And so, he had always been part of a coven.

‘I have never experienced anything quite like that,’ Megan said as she dropped onto the plush rug at her feet. She was exhausted and needed a moment to get herself grounded.

She knew at once what the problem was. Megan, like most witches, was extremely sensitive to energy. That was one of the reasons she preferred to work alone. But that night, she had picked up on the magickal energies of another: James.

James went and sat on the rug beside her, lost in his own thoughts. Many things had been weighing on his mind recently.

‘I don’t know how you cope working in a circle,’ Megan commented as she lay down. ‘My head’s spinning.’

Choosing his words carefully, he hoped one of his problems would soon be solved. ‘Although I’m not immune to it, you do get used to it. In fact, I don’t think you would have any trouble adapting to a coven-setting, Megan…if it was something that you wanted. Any coven would be lucky to have you. You have so much to offer and so much you can teach.’

‘Hmm…Perhaps,’ Megan said, non-committally.

That wasn’t the comment he had been hoping for. Perhaps he was being too subtle, he wondered. Maybe a more direct approach would have a better chance of success…

‘Megan, it’s time I started my own coven. I have outgrown my current one. If I stay much long I will start to upset the balance of energies in the group. It wouldn’t be fair to remain and disrupt them.’

‘That sounds like a big undertaking on your own.’

‘It is…but then, I won’t be alone…I need a High Priestess…’

There was silence for a moment. Megan was closing her eyes and her facial expression remained passive.

‘I suppose you can’t just walk into a supermarket and ask for one,’ she joked, smiling.

James took a deep breath, and then said, ‘Megan, I want you to be my High Priestess.’

The silence returned, as Megan thought about what he was asking of her. She certainly had the knowledge and experience to co-run a coven; that wasn’t the issue. Something far more practical was standing in the way. ‘I don’t think I could work with all that energy, James. I’m sorry.’

‘What if I let you into a secret?’

‘What secret?’

‘How I deal with all the energy we raise inside a circle.’

‘I’m listening.’

James pulled at the small bag round his neck and took something out. It was a dull, grey lump of stone.

He handed it over to Megan; it was heavier than she had expected.  ‘Hematite? It’s a grounding stone.’

‘Yep. It’s my anchor, strengthening my connection to the earth, ensuring that I stay as grounded as I need to be.’

Megan inspected the stone closely, her hope rising. After all, if it worked for her like it did for James, could she really pass up such an amazing opportunity, one that might never come her way again?