A Collection of Stories
For the Modern Witch

The Mystery of the Parliament Fire: Solved!

Is witchcraft to blame?

Perhaps you’re a skeptic. Perhaps you’re a fiction fanatic. Whatever the reason, you’re currently reading this article. Know why? Because I cast a spell on it to draw in open-minded individuals. It’s a simple spell that only works on curious individuals. So, keep those thinking caps on and be prepared to have your minds blown!

Witches are real, sweetie. We live right under your noses. Duh! Who do you think casts rain spells on our enemy’s birthday? Or, sometimes, rain spells to ruin festivals or outdoor events. Hey, witches are people so we can protest too, right?

Our kind of protesting is different from yours. We don’t care about politics. If we wanted to, we could curse all your world leaders right now. However, that’s not what we’re about. Witches are harmless! We care passionately about the environment because that’s where we draw our abilities from. Think about it. If we need mint but global warming has burned up all those little plants, how are we ever going to cast that spell? Bummer. No de-stressing for you.

We really are a benefit to your society, despite some awkward ancient history. That burning of the parliament buildings in 1916? That was us, oops. We’re super sorry about that. But hey! It really brought the country together, eh? You took your focus off WWI and banded together to protect your country’s values!

Anyway, we’re the ones who invented Yoga, you’re welcome. And we helped to create electricity. Next time you turn on the lights, thank a witch! Also, don’t forget to thank us for the camera. Who do you think found a way to print light, and then store millions of terabytes of data onto tiny little cards? Yeah, we helped all those ingenious inventors, and didn’t get a nickel of thanks.

I, myself, am a witch. I’m at the red level (you can read more about witch levels here, once I write the article). I specialize in protection charms and potions (which I’ll also make an article containing my different recipes here). They can even protect you from all kinds of diseases, if you make them correctly. We’ve yet to find a cure to cancer, you have us there, but many of your vaccines do come from witchcraft.

Well, that’s all for now. Just an FYI and a “you’re welcome”.

Posted: September 20, 2017

A smug smile appeared on Marissa’s lips as she read over her article. She had posted it to her blog about a week ago. She took another sip of her tea before moving her mouse over to the analytics section of her blog. A thousand people had read that post today, and the number was only increasing.

Her roommate, Hilda, burst through the door of their two-bedroom apartment. Marissa flinched at the sound of the door ultimately leaving an indent in the wall. She didn’t turn around as Hilda began to scream, “What the hell were you thinking when you decided to publish an article like that!? Don’t you have any idea what this could do to our entire society?”

“Relax, Hilda. Literally everyone thinks it’s fiction or a prank. No one is taking this seriously.”

Hilda rolled her eyes and scoffed. She shut the door and dropped her backpack onto the couch. Then, in a lowered voice, she continued to scold Marissa, “You know who is taking it seriously? The Council of the Coven. They’ll come for you and lock you up, or worse! Your entire life could have ended the moment you hit submit on that article.”

Marissa leaned back in her seat. “I’m not worried.”

“That’s because you’re a fool.”

“We shall see.”

The Witch Hierarchy

Yes, even witches have a government

I told you I’d write a post about rankings in the Coven! And here it is! This is what our society looks like. The first three aren’t as serious as the last three. I know a lot of girls who dropped out even before they got to the second ranking.

Green: A beginner. You can get this when you’re like 5? It doesn’t really mean much. It just means your talents are starting to develop. I got my talents and my necklace from my mother – she’s an amazing witch!

Yellow: You can get your yellow pendant as soon as your talent has shown itself. A talent can be almost anything: good with animals, a green thumb, amazing charisma, etc. Once you have your talent your next step is to figure out how to specialize it.

Orange: You usually get these at age 16 – unless you don’t have yellow yet or you decide to not be a witch anymore. If you are still green (unlikely), you can choose to keep searching for a talent, or you can simply give up witchcraft. If you get your orange pendant, you are now a specialized witch. Good with animals? Dangerous animal charmer (like snakes and spiders – we need their venom for potions). Green thumb? You’ll be growing herbs to sell to other witches. We need stuff like sage! Amazing charisma? You might have what it takes to lead the Coven, or become a doctor.

Red: I’m at this level! Red means you are serious about becoming a witch! Getting a red pendant means that you’ve acquired a position that benefits your Coven (I’m really good at making jewelry I guess?)

Violet: Sometimes violet witches will choose apprentices from the yellow or orange ranking. They guide them all the way to red. Sometimes witches choose a girl from their school or just a friend that isn’t already into witchcraft. This takes an extreme amount of risk – because if they don’t accept then you must erase their memories of you. It’s Coven rules.

Blue: Only head witches can get a blue pendant. The youngest witch in history to reach this level was… You know what? I don’t think I can remember her name! She was 38, whoever she was.

And that’s about it for the basics of witch rankings. The rest is too complicated to explain and tends to vary from witch to witch. Maybe one day I’ll share my story!

Posted: October 13th, 2017

“Really? You wrote another one?”

Marissa rolled her eyes and ignored Hilda as she marched across the room. She picked up a small, blue box with a purple ribbon tied on top. “Let me worry about my online life, okay? In the meantime, happy birthday you grouch.”

Marissa spun around and placed the box on the coffee table. Hilda leaned forward from the couch, taking the box in her hand. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Just open it,” Marissa insisted.

Hilda did as she was told. She pulled the ribbon and it unravelled then fell to the floor. Inside the box was a bracelet. The string was brown and appeared to be hand-woven, and hanging from it was a plastic ruby: Hilda’s birthstone. Hilda held it up in the light, admiring the craftsmanship. Marissa was rather talented when it came to making protection charms. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

A week later, Hilda sat near the window, the morning sun just beginning to peek through the tips of the trees. She was tucked beneath a blanket on the couch, scrolling through notifications on her phone. She heard Marissa’s door click open, followed by her feet shuffling into the kitchen.

Not looking up from her phone, Hilda muttered, “I see you wrote another article.”

Marissa turned on one foot, glancing over the counter at her roommate. “You don’t seem very pleased by it, Hilda.”

Hilda clicked off the screen of her phone. Her glare snapped onto Marissa faster than either of them had time to blink. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

Marissa rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the fridge. “Oh c’mon. I didn’t get into any trouble with the last two articles I posted, so I just stepped up the game a little.”

“What if the council notices?”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Marissa removed the milk from the fridge. She placed it on the counter then searched through the cupboards for a bowl.

Hilda rubbed her eyes in frustration. “You’re suicidal! Why would you want that!?”

Marissa selected a random box of cereal. “It’s because…” She chewed her lip in thought and dumped the cereal into a bowl. “I’m tired of hiding, Hilda. If the Council sees the positive way non-witches are responding to these articles, then maybe they’ll change their minds about making us all live in hiding. I want to tell my dad the real reason me and mom go out all the time – that it isn’t a girl’s night, it’s a Coven meeting. I want to show my friends who I really am. I want to-”

“Shut up!” Hilda snapped. She stood up straight, her blanket pooling at her feet. “We all make sacrifices for the Coven! Be thankful you’re still allowed to see your father! And you knew the rules of the Coven long before you agreed to become a witch. If you didn’t like them, then you should’ve given it up when you were 16, just like the others! Instead, you decide to bitch about our rules five years later!? Grow up!”

Marissa stared wide-eyed at her roommate. Hilda rounded the counter, grabbed her jacket, and shoved on her shoes. Marissa couldn’t bring herself to say anything as Hilda paused to give her a glare just before leaving the apartment. The slam of the door made Marissa flinch. Her fingers trembled as she turned back towards the counter. Numbness filled her as she placed a spoon in her bowl of cereal, as if she could trick herself that she was going to eat it but her appetite had long since left her.

That evening, as Hilda placed her hand on the doorknob to her apartment, a swarm of various ways to say I’m sorry filled her head. Apologizing to Marissa was the only thing on her mind all day.

With a deep breath, Hilda pushed open the door. “Marissa, I-” Words escaped Hilda’s lips at the sight of a barren apartment. The floors and walls were naked. All the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen had been opened and emptied. Only a stack of Hilda’s dishes was left behind in the sink. Marissa’s teas and snacks had been removed, and anything she had bought had been taken from the fridge.

Hilda wandered to Marissa’s room. The door was wide open. Not so much as a smudge had been left behind on the walls. In fact, Hilda could smell fresh paint, although the walls felt dry to her touch.

All signs of Marissa’s existence had vanished. The only things remaining in the apartment were things Hilda had bought wholly by herself.

Hilda sat down on the floor in front of her TV. The couch had belonged to Marissa. She stared at the reflective, black surface for a few minutes, which felt more like an hour, before she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

She blinked as her hand slid into her pocket and wrapped around the rectangular object. Hilda took it out. She turned it on only to find notifications littering her screen.

One in particular jumped out at her.

“The blog you follow “For the Modern Witch” has made a new post.”

Hilda tapped the notification, typed in her password, and waited for the app to open. What appeared on her screen was a blank article titled “Find me”.

Hilda scowled. “Find you? But Marissa, I can’t. They took everything that belongs to you.”

An idea struck Hilda the moment those words left her mouth. Hilda climbed to her feet and turned towards her bedroom. She marched towards her jewelry stand, resting on top of her dresser. There, hanging in the same place it always did, was the bracelet Marissa had given her. Hilda rubbed the strands of the necklace between her fingers and confirmed that it was made of hair. Hilda shuddered, not entirely pleased with the idea that she had been wearing Marissa’s hair on her wrist, but at least it was exactly what she needed to find her roommate.

She moved towards her shelf. Hidden between the pages of books were herbs and other plants that she had flattened and dried years ago. These were the ingredients she needed to trace Marissa’s whereabouts.

Her fingers reached for the final ingredient and she froze. If Hilda finished this spell, there was no going back. She would be running away from her job, her life, and admitting that Marissa was right to challenge the Coven.

That blank article confirmed that Marissa had managed to escape, but it also meant that she needed Hilda’s help. If Hilda went to her, then the Council would want both of their heads. Could Hilda live the rest of her life on the run? Or could she live the rest of her life knowing she left a friend to fend for herself, and perhaps even die?

Hilda took the final ingredient into her hand. If choosing the Coven meant killing her friend, then maybe it was time for a change. She would find Marissa and together they would rebel against the Grand Council.

She blended the ingredients in a bowl. She placed the bowl down on the floor. She grabbed three candles: one black and two purples. Then she struck a match and lit the candles from left to right.

She glanced at the bowl. With a determined scowl, she lit Marissa’s hair on fire and set it into the bowl.

Hilda shut her eyes. At first, all she could smell was the horrid stench of singed hair. Then slowly, scents of different spices and herbs swarmed her. A scene flashed before her eyes.

A street sign appeared in her vision. Then a restaurant sign which read Adam’s Diner. She saw Marissa rush behind the restaurant. There was a hotel. She moved up the stairs to room 211. Once insides, Hilda’s vision faded.

She blew out the candles and shot to her feet. Hilda would find Marissa.

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