In a little cottage outside of town, there lived a witch. Animals ran free in her vast garden, colourful smoke came out of the chimney at all hours of the day, children dared one another to take a step past the little red gate.
Ginger had untameable curly hair, as dark as the bottom of her cauldron. Her delicate hands had the soft touch of feathers and the precision of a sharp knife. Her lips were naturally tainted red like a cherry pie. The witch had the most incredible eyes, they were the color of fire, they were warm, bright, dangerous.
She lived alone but she was never lonely. Ginger had a loving heart who couldn’t stand to see an animal unhappy. She rescued any creature that needed saving and gave them a home. Her pets were the most wonderful company, they were her family.
Dahlia the black cat came home one night. She locked eyes with Ginger to communicate her distress. Soon after, the witch was perched on a broom, flying to the rescue of the poor kitten. She found it scratched and bruised in a cardboard box on the street, left there without a care in the world, left there to die in the cold of the night. Ginger’s tender heart bled at the sight of the fragile thing, terrified and shivering. She whispered a spell to warm her hands and murmured comforting words for the kitten to hear. She was not the enemy, it was safe now. The kitten intently looked at the strange woman for long minutes, eventually it agreed to come and off to the skies they flew.
It was past the witching hour but a witch’s work was never over. The purple smoke from her healing potion cooking up on the fire filled the nighttime air. Ginger always kept petals of robert geranium at the ready in case an unfortunate creature was brought into her care and needed immediate attention. The grey tabby kitten sipped on the bowl of potion that it had been offered by the kind lady. When it felt stronger, it leaped on Ginger’s lap looking for warmth. Gently, the witch covered the baby cat she would soon call Percy with a blanket and let him sleep until the sun rose again in the morning. The new addition to the family awoke the next day still wary of the world but much comforted to feel protected by Ginger’s love.
Dahlia was the oldest cat of the bunch and Ginger’s familiar, therefore she was in charge of maintaining order. All the animals that lived in the garden, from Midget the cow to Larry the rooster by way of Kindra the fox, respected Dahlia and wholeheartedly agreed to abide by the two rules of the house: be kind and don’t make a mess. Each and everyone of them had been saved by Ginger, either from an atrocious farmer or a neglectful owner. Behind the cottage they found peace and sustenance aplenty. Dahlia showed Percy to his new pillow by the fireplace as he was too young still to join the other cats in the shed. She showed him around the garden and everyone welcomed the new kitten with joy.
Percy was stronger by the day. The more potion he drank, the faster he was at catching leaves twirling in the wind. His fur looked shinier, his eyes gleamed with innocent bliss. The kitten seemed to have forgotten all about the circumstances in which he had been found. He still kicked the fluffy pillow in his sleep though so Ginger started to give him a sleeping potion to make his restlessness go away.
She had devoted most of her time to her four-legged companions but time had come for her to go into town to gather food for her table. On the fifth morning, she fastened her cloak around her neck and pulled up the hood. Flying on her broom, the forest green of the velvet stood out in the fog. Ginger wasn’t exactly feared in the village yet the sight of her cloaked silhouette emerging through the clouds sent a chill down the spine of the merchants who saw her approaching.
The witch visited her usual stalls, she filled her basket with leafy greens and colourful fruit, fish and eggs, cheese and cream, warm buns and loaves of bread… Her basket was visibly full already yet she kept adding items to it and carried it with as much ease as if it were light as a feather. A little girl with chocolatey-brown hair by the baker’s stand watched her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth wondering how she did it. Her green eyes looked intently at the witch, fascinated by the feat. She wanted to know. The little girl with the braids wanted to learn. Ginger slowly turned her head to smile at her, she gave the girl a playful wink. She finished her tour of the market, boarded her flying steed and on her wicked way she went.
The house was filled with delicious smells as Ginger cooked her famous seafood chowder. She brought it every year to the town’s fair and everyone was always eager to get their bowl. This time, she made a special batch for one special person.
When the witch had found poor little Percy bruised and battered in a box, she had noticed whose house he was in front of. And she unfortunately hadn’t been surprised. Harry Gardner seemed like a nice man to the untrained eye but his aura was as dark as his heart. It was high time to put an end to his villainy. Percy would be the last animal that frightful man ever abused.
As the poison was about to bubble, Ginger heard a knock on the door. She rarely had visitors, let alone unannounced ones. Her surprise was greater still when she laid her eyes upon the little girl from the market holding up a loaf of bread. “Mrs Witch? Are you Mrs Witch?” she asked. “Why yes I am. And who might you be?” inquired Ginger. The little girl took a big breath for her big explanation. “My name is Katy, I’m the baker’s daughter. I saw you yesterday with your basket. My mama always has trouble carrying hers when it’s full but you didn’t and I… I want to know why.”
Katy had a resolute stance, standing straight with her feet firmly planted on the ground. She wouldn’t take no for an answer or even the usual mysterious magic spiel for curious children. Ginger crossed her arms over her apron and tilted her head to the side. She raised her right eyebrow and asked with a smooth and deep voice: “Do you really want to know?”
The little girl shook her head up and down, she grinned and offered once more the loaf of bread as a token of her motivation. Ginger took the offering and stepped away from the threshold. “Come on in.” Her smile may have been warm and inviting but her eyes glowed like a bonfire.
Katy saw the cauldrons and immediately asked: “What’cha cooking?”
“Chowder in one, poison in the other.” It was no use beating around the bush. If she was going to make the baker’s daughter her apprentice, she was better off being honest.
“Poison? Ooh, are you going to use it on someone?” Katy wasn’t scared or reproachful.
“Yes I am. There's a very bad person that needs to be stopped.”
“Can you tell me who, Mrs Witch?”
“I’ll tell you if you call me Ginger.” The witch winked. She was amused at the little girl who was showing interest in her work.
“Who do we need to stop, Ginger?” Katy felt a little bit naughty for calling the witch by her name and conniving with her, a little bit naughty and a little brave.
“Do you know Mr. Gardner?”
“The one who lives by the bridge?”
“That one indeed. Do you think he's a bad person?”
Katy pondered her answer. "I certainly don’t like him. He’s mean and he stinks. He yells at us all the time when we're playing and he's rude to dogs. And one time, I was playing with Clara by the river and we saw him throw a bag in the water. I think I heard a baby crying in it but that gives me nightmares so I don’t like to think about it.”
“So you agree that Mr. Gardner is not a good person." Drowning puppies was a terrible act to commit. "We can’t let him hurt anyone anymore, can we?” Ginger was boiling inside though not surprised at the ignominy this horrendous character was capable of.
Katy nodded. “It would be for the best.” She had been in the presence of the witch for less than an hour and she was already developing her sense of justice.
Little Percy, attracted by the noise, came into the kitchen and started rubbing itself against Katy’s legs. “Hello? Who are you?” She had a big smile on her face, she loved cats. “That’s Percy my dear.” Katy was already squatting down to pet him. “He’s our newest member. I saved him from Mr. Gardner.” The girl’s head jerked up, frowning at the evidently dark news. She pressed her lips into a tight little rosebud of determination. Katy picked up the kitten and held it close to her heart. She gently stroked Percy’s head. She was only 10 but she knew that someone who was cruel to animals was pure evil. Mr. Gardner had to go.
“Say Ginger, what is the duty of a witch?”
“Our purpose is to bring and maintain balance in the world, our duty is to protect those who can't protect themselves.”
“I see." The girl resembled the Godfather with the cat in her arms and an air of absolute seriousness on her face. She was going to be the one to make Ginger an offer she couldn't refuse. "Where do we start? What can I do to help?”
Ginger smiled, she liked Katy's feisty spirit, she had the makings of a good witch.
The weekend was ending, night was falling on the homes of the townsfolk. The baker’s daughter was playing in the street, skipping rope with her friends. Their innocent laughs rung through the air like wind chimes. The thud of the rope gave rhythm to their melody.
Harry Gardner had a short temper. One more minute of happy noise right under his window would undoubtedly make him throw a fit. Like clockwork, just as Ginger had predicted, the tall glassy-eyed man barged in on the children playing. “Shouldn’t you little brats be home by now? Go back to your parents right now or else…” Katy and her friends knew that this wasn’t an empty threat. The other two made a run for it. The witch's apprentice simply took her time to pack her things up.
“I told you to leave!” roared Harry Gardner.
“In a minute,” replied Katy without fear.
Harry Gardner marched to her and forcefully grabbed her arm. “Go away now, before you regret it.” His breath reeked of whiskey. Any other day she would have started to cry, but not today. Not anymore. Not with her new friend watching her back. “You let go before you regret it,” she declared defiantly.
The despicable man inspected her face for a sign of weakness. The little girl held his gaze fiercely. He would find another way to make her pay. He finally let go of her arm. It hurt where he held on just a little too tightly. But she did her best not to let it show. Harry Gardner glanced at the box that was at her feet and pointed to the bowl of creamy white liquid. “What is that?”
“It’s soup for my dad.”
The corporate lawyer was as greedy as he was violent. He had a certain taste for revenge too. He bent down to pick up the bowl. “Not anymore it isn’t. That’ll teach you for your insolence. Now get out of my sight.”
The deed was done, he had fallen into the trap, now she could go. She grabbed the box and disappeared into the night. Harry Gardner took the plastic film off the bowl and took a deep breath of the enchanting scent. A minute in the microwave and it was perfectly hot. He downed the whole thing during the commercial break, the aftertaste of sweet victory over a 10-year-old girl lingering in his mouth. As he picked up another slice of pizza, he felt an itch in the back of his throat. He coughed a bit to make it go away. But it didn’t. He coughed some more. It seemed to be worse. Soon Harry Gardner felt like a thousand ants were climbing up and down his oesophagus, litting his insides on fire. It was a highly unpleasant sensation on top of being disturbing. His throat was closing up, he was experiencing trouble breathing, just like the puppy he’d put in a plastic bag and left outside in the summer sun to die. Gasping for air, he wouldn’t have noticed the rash on his arms if he hadn’t felt the overwhelming urge to scratch them. He scratched and scratched again, his nails digging deeper and deeper into the skin. The cuts bled on the sofa. It hurt but he couldn’t stop. His flesh would be scarred, just like the kittens he’d beaten with a leather belt, their backs covered in blood from the lashes.
At last, Harry Gardner was convulsing on the floor, struggling to breathe, clawing at his own skin. He was experiencing the same excruciating pain he had inflicted on others. He was getting the death that he deserved.
In the coming days, when his body was found, all traces of self-inflicted injuries had disappeared as if by magic. Except it actually was. Dahlia had many talents, including getting rid of the evidence. The cat had come in by the back door to get rid of the incriminating bowl and traces of blood. Black on black in the night, no one ever knew she had been there. It now looked like an unfortunate accident. The detective and coroner concluded that since there was no sign of struggle and they had found a half eaten pizza next to him, he must have regrettably choked to death.
In a little cottage outside of town, there lived a witch. Animals ran free in her vast garden, colourful smoke came out of the chimney at all hours of the day, a child happily pushed the little red gate every day after school to learn all about being a good witch.
Hope you like this little story I wrote to get into the Halloween mood. I know the spooky holiday is already passed but I figured I could still share this snippet of Ginger the Good Witch with y'all critters. Let's keep the autumn spirit alive!
Warm bread and tabby cats 🍞
Nicky 🦊
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