by Sanguinary Red (sanguinary_515 @ hotmail.com)
First Witch:
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightening, or in rain?
Second Witch:
When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won
=> Macbeth, William Shakespeare,
Pale moonlight shone down on the Shire. Inside the smials, families slept deeply. They always did on a Witching Night, perfectly unconscious from sundown to sunrise, never questioning why no cries from babies or their own aching bladders disturbed their slumber. The Witches made sure of that.
Ruby walked down the laneway, naked as the day she was born. It was a warm night, as all Witching Nights were, and the free, fresh air felt wonderful against her skin. Ruby's red hair looked black in the moonlight, as blood did, and she loved the caressing feel of it.
As she reached the centre of town, she saw two Hobbits already waiting. Peony Ann was there, her auburn hair dark and loose around her shoulders.
Delphinium stood there as well, looking like something out of a fairy tale, wicked and beautiful. Del was one of the Wild Witches, those who were untamable and spent their lives roaming the wilderness, always on the fringe of society. The Wild Ones were among the most powerful of the Witches. They were also the most easily identifiable and therefore the first to burn when the hunts came. If they were caught. All power comes with a price.
Others arrived one by one. Ruby recognized half of them but the others were strangers. Every Witching Night, their ranks grew stronger as more and more Hobbits came from farther and farther away to join the ritual.
Finally, as the moon reached the apex of the sky, all of them turned to Ruby.
Her red hair marked her as a natural born witch and that made her the focal point for the others. She stepped forward and felt the power begin to creep up her feet from the ground. By the time the rituals were over, Ruby would be humming like a rim-rubbed glass and twice as full with energy.
As the naked circle closed around her, Ruby took her place in the middle and looked up at the full, fat moon hanging in the sky. The face on it seemed to smile, full and toothy like a skull. Voices rose on all sides around her, weaving patterns in the light.
And Ruby began to hum.
~
Pretty Good Year