Meet Gretchen guys from ‘Witchful Thinking.’ One of the stories in The Suspenseful Collection #2 Blurred Lines. Following on from Didi’s WIP share last week of this story. I love it!! And I loved writing it. Didi really forced me out of my comfort zone when she put two paranormal stories in my inbox to write. Arrrgggh! I am so not a paranormal writer, but this story allowed me to really go wild, and even incorporate some of my own heritage. I loved it.
So, it’s a full moon week this week coming. How did I remember, just stepped outside to get something from the garden and the moon she’s shining brightly over my house! I took a picture she is bright and full. How beautiful, happy full moon. In the mean time, meet Gretchen on the night of her full moon encounter with three witches…
The Night Of The Full Moon, In Canada…
With a deep breath I went over to the back door that led out to the garden that I had not ventured out into yet. Peeking out of the curtain, I saw that the moonlight flooded over the grass, and there was a tree over on the far left, and a small pond also caught my eye. Next to the door a large silver key hung on a string. Instinct told me it was for the door, and sure enough it was. I unlocked it, turned the knob, then opened the door with a slow high-pitched creak. My senses peaked as a slight breeze blew in and tickled my skin. As I moved my eyes over the moonlit garden, everything was still.
I stepped back and left the door open a crack to grab the tray on the table, then I stepped into the garden slowly taking in every detail. As I crossed the threshold the backdoor slammed behind me, unexplained. There was no wind or any movement. I stood frozen under the moonlight with the tray in my hand, an eerie feeling surrounding me as the owls hooted. I anticipated something, anything, but nothing came. Quickly, I set to work under the large tree. I placed down the three candles, then poured a shot of rum and placed it by the purple candle for Oya, I sat the strawberries down by the red candle for Maria, and finally lit a cigarette and balanced it on a rock near the black one for Brigette. Then I lit the three candles and stood back. I couldn’t think what to say to call them. I had some offerings, but would that be enough? After a beat, I said the first thing that came to me.
“Witches of the night, witches of the dark realm, witches of all witches I summon thee. Maman Brigette from Haiti, Oya from Africa, Maria de Padilla from Spain, I summon thee. Please accept these offerings here for you.”
Disappointed, I watched the candle flames as they flickered under the moonlight. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe some kind of poof of air, and three witches to appear like in the movies with a dramatic entrance. My confidence left me. What kind of witch am I if I can’t even get this right?, ran through my mind as I mentally beat myself up. Deflated, as I felt like a lost cause and sorry excuse for a witch. I turned away from my so-called witching hour seance and headed over to the tree to rack my brain over what to do next.
As I turned my back the moonlight became slightly overcast. It was like a light had gone out, the grass, leaves, and branches on the trees rustled. Just as quickly as the moonlight dimmed, by the time I looked up at the sky, and back down to the candles the moon’s bright light reappeared and bathed the garden.
“Oh shit!”
I literally jumped out of my own skin. An elderly and sickly pale white lady, with waist length red hair, dressed all in black, and top hat with bones stuck into it sat on a rock. I watched in disbelief as she inhaled the smoke of the cigarette I lit.
“Eyee, appreciate this lass, but next time hand rolled tobacco,” she said with a Scottish twang.
“Brigette?” I racked my brain. It could only have been her. The only white dark witch goddess celebrated in Haiti, as her legacy came over with white women extradited from the British Isles to Haiti during slavery.
“Don’t-na act so surprised, you summoned me. This better be good, child. Nice rum by the way, next time add a few red peppers in ‘ere.”
I stood with my mouth open as she bent down and inhaled the content of the shot glass.
“Hola, you need to use your imagination more, fruit? Really.”
I spun around at the Spanish accent that met my ear and saw the glamourous Maria de Padilla, standing tall behind me. As she glided over towards me, I couldn’t help but gulp at her. She had on a traditional gold-colored robe that upper-classed European women wore in the 1300s, her dark-brown hair was elegantly piled on top of her head and laced with red flowers.
“Maria?”
She abruptly stopped in her tracks then snapped her neck back towards me. “Senorita Padilla.”
“Yeee… yes… ma’am.” I stuttered out as she glided over towards Brigette.
“Hola, Brigette are you well?”
“Can’t complain.”
I watched in awe as the two witches of the dark realm greeted each other like old friends, and Maria gracefully hitched up her robe then sat on the rock beside Brigette, who was puffing on her cigarette like her life depended on it. As Maria waved her hand to let Brigette know she didn’t appreciate the smell of smoke, Brigette let out a deadly witch’s cackle that echoed around the garden, then downed her shot and raised her glass to me.
“Where’s the rest?”
She gruffly addressed me, her black-kohl-lined eyes penetrated through me and sent a slight chill down my spine. I quickly picked up the bottle and took the lid off it, ready to pour her another shot. To my surprise she snatched it from me and took a long swig from the bottle.
“Well, is this us then?” She asked.
“Ah no, I called—”
Before I could finish my sentence, the winds picked up and a heavy downpour of raindrops started to beat down on my skin.
“Oh, she’s so dramatic,” I heard Maria say dryly. I could barely make out where they sat anymore, due to the heavy rain. I ran under the tree for shelter just as a roll of thunder roared around me, and a flash of lightning cracked its gold rays across the ink-black night sky. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shitting myself; it felt like the heavens had opened and God himself was on his way to claim his world. Hailstones tumbled down, and through the sheets of ice I tried to see what was going on as I shielded myself from the attack and force of nature.
After what felt like a thirty-second, violent, mini-thunderstorm out of the blue, as the rain came to a stand-still and the wind settled, the moon light shone down on the garden. With Maria and Brigette to my left sitting on the rocks, in front of us a ray of purple light manifested, then gave way to one of the most striking women I had ever seen. She was at least six-foot tall, with skin the color of mahogany, her athletic frame was barely covered in tiger print female warrior’s outfit—a skimpy skirt, and bra revealed a toned midsection. On her feet she wore gladiator sandals, and in her right hand was a spear the same height as her. The moonlight bounced off the serrated edge of her weapon. As I studied her more closely, I could see the tribal marks inked across her face and body. Her hair was wild, wool-textured locks of black curls.
“Fuck me… Oya?”
I murmured to myself, as I came out from behind the tree. She took long strides over to us, Brigette stood slowly, her old bones giving her little support. Maria steadied her. Brigette’s pale hand held out the bottle of rum in the warrior princess’ direction.
“My sister from another mother! Dramatic as fuck,” Brigette cackled. “Good to see you. How’s Africa these days?”
Oya took a swig from the bottle and sat it down next to her spear. “Good, thank you.” Her deep voice bellowed out, and it surprised me to hear her speak so articulately in an accent I had never heard before.
The three of them turned to me by the tree, I was frozen inside but my body shook from the downpour of rain. Brigette nodded in my direction and as if by ‘magic’ my pajamas were dry as a hot summer’s day.
“So, child, you called. What’s the problem?” Maria addressed me, as she popped a strawberry into her mouth.
“Come child, don’t-a be scared, ya called us!” Brigette cackled again as she beckoned me from under the tree towards the rocks they sat on. Timidly I walked over to them and took a seat on the grass in front of my three older advisors.
“My name is—”
“We know who you are, Gretchen.” Brigette cut in and then smiled a wicked toothless smile. As scary as she looked, I was warming to her.
“Okay, I’ll get straight to the point. Fate came to see me.”
The three witches gasped and clutched their chests, then looked from each other to me, as I sat on the grass. I sat still unsure of what their reaction meant. The three of them cackled so hard a bolt of lightning struck the sky, causing the owls to depart from their branches into the sky.
“It’s time.” The threesome rang out in unison, then looked at each other and burst out into another fit of giggles. The atmosphere grew heavy as the lightning and thunder roared again with their laughter.
“What do you mean ‘it’s time’?” I nervously asked in a low voice. Another fit of laughter at my expense broke out again, then they silenced themselves, put their resting bitch faces on show as they rose up in unison off the rocks where they sat.
The trio, a six-foot African warrior princess, a petite, Spanish, glamorous woman from the 1300s, and a dark goth-looking, pale, white lady with fire red-hair, in a top hat, dressed all in black glided over to me in the air. Fear kicked in again. I stood up and tripped over a rock, Oya pointed towards me and broke my fall as she placed me back on my feet. Oya lifted me up with just her stare in my direction and brought me over to the trio in mid- air.
“It’s time to be a real witch, Gretchen.” She said as the four of us lowered back down to the ground.
About The Anthology
OUT NOW ON PRE- SALE RELEASE DATE
22ND APRIL 2020 FREE TO READ ON KINDLE UNLIMITED.
For Mature Readers Only:
As the second installment of suspenseful short stories by two suspense authors, from diverse backgrounds, Blurred Lines offers a thrill ride with nine stories in genres across the board. From opposite sides of the Atlantic these stories have been created. One author started the tale and the other ended it. No discussion, no pre-planning, but yet their stories are seamless. With the use of writing prompts Kim and Didi have created tales that will tug at your heart strings, drop your jaws, and leave you clinging to the edge of your seat. From gory horror, romance, crime fiction, family drama, and fantasy, there is a story for everyone!
Crime Fiction, Psychological: “I’m Back Bitches, Now Panic!”
Lynn McCarmick has spent six years behind bars for a crime she didn’t commit, although she’s a far cry from an innocent woman. Her once loyal team of con artists set her up for a robbery that landed her a long term home in a Scottish prison. After an early release for good behavior, Lynn is finally able to let the bad bitch inside of her roam free.
Contemporary Romance: Heart of Gold
In this star crossed, light hearted tale, two people with the purest of hearts, each long to find a mate who is giving, honest and real. A heart-felt romance.
Psychological Thriller, Slasher Romance, Erotica: Chainsaw Ridge
Alice is one of a kind, and was raised by a nasty man with killer habits. After an accident rendered the awful man disabled, everything changed. With an ultimate twist, this gory tale takes Alice and her husband on one hell of a bloody adventure. Due to popular demand this story was extended!
Investigative Crime Fiction: Crime Scene Investigation
Detectives Flynn and McBride are on the case of a murder. Owner of the Chinese restaurant where the body was found, Mr. Wang, is devastated. The pressure is on to find the killer and to clear Mr. Wang’s establishment as a safe place for his patrons. The detectives piece together outside connections that are weaved into Mr. Wang’s ties, in a very delicate way. Is there more to the murder than what meets the eye?
Historical Fiction: A Miracle Baby Story
In a tragic tale of tough love and loss, brought about in a western setting, two young lovers are frowned upon by nearly everyone around. Adsila is a teen of Cherokee descent, who falls for a young cowboy. In a bitter-sweet tale she fights for the survival of herself and unborn child in a community filled with hate and judgement.
Paranormal Suspense: A life Gone?
Franklyn Poppy, is a husband and father who found himself in a place between life and death. He becomes a loathly witness to the woman he loves having an affair with his twin brother. He’s introduced to the infamous dark Goddess, Maman Bridgette who shares his disdain for the happenings with his wife. The outcome for Mrs. Poppy and her fateful intertwining with this powerful Goddess is powerful and resonating.
Metaphysics, Clairvoyant, Thriller: Murder by Mistake
The Wilkinson family consists of an Air Force father, a loving mother, and two daughters Anna and Julie. They are polar opposites, and Julie, the younger of the two has a special gift. She’s able to see things before they happen. When she’s mentally the witness to a murder that’s yet to be solved, she’s forced into action in an altercation with the killer.
Fantasy: Witchful Thinking
Gretchen isn’t your average witch, as she was born into a clan descending from the blood of Fate herself. Growing up in foster care was an intentional way for her to find her own path in using her magic, as she’s intended to be a tool for Fate’s use. A twisty tale set in the present and past day.
Family Drama: Real Mom
After the abandonment of their mother, twins Josephine and Jerilynn are taken in by their new stepmom, and become the big sisters to quite the large and quirky family. During a family vacation the two team up, and try to uncover the mystery of their estranged biological mom.
Wow what a lovely little bite sized love story with a cute happy ever after! I really enjoyed reading this novella from just the first view pages. I would have liked more to this. This author is new to me, I stumbled across the book on Facebook, and read it on one sitting! Let’s get into the review.
And come across some beautiful blogs. I met my co-author via blogging too, and if I had not started here on WordPress, I would not have two anthologies, I’m very proud of, under my belt with her. I don’t get to blog as much as I’ve love to. But the focus of the blog has changed over the years.
Author, Kim Knight 