Fifteen Witches

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. It used to be a quaint place, full of old ladies sitting on green lawns under parasols wearing sun bonnets, drinking tea and eating scones with clotted cream and strawberry preserves. Such a peaceful façade, behind this picture of English country life there lurked a mysterious force handed down through generations. Life was safe, idyllic and somewhat mundane, everything was about to change.

The sounds above were deafening and the older ladies looked to the skies in astonishment, they remembered the recent war, the destruction and the children who had been evacuated to the village who still lived at the orphanage.The woman shared glances of concern, but they knew this was not the war.This time the noise was not bombers. They saw not planes but wings, outstretched and menacing.The wings were dark and black like bat wings, but so much bigger and the woman knew what they were.The heads were so furious and blowing fire towards the corn fields, to clear an area where they would drop their eggs.There were folk tales about dragons burning vast areas of the valley and leaving eggs to hatch and the baby dragons having eaten all the villagers. Of course, these were the type of tales that were told to scare the children and no one really believed them, except for the old ladies now looking to the skies knowingly.

The women put down their teacups and all stood up as if choreographed in perfect unison, as these were not ordinary old ladies, these were a secret society of village witches, the protectors, pagans. For years seen as old and redundant, they would attend their weekly book clubs, art groups and high teas and tend to their gardens, hoping that the village would not need their powers, but knowing they were ready.

The rest of the villagers had gone inside and closed their doors, a strange paralysis rendering them incapable of movement or speech, most likely caused by the humming sound the dragons emitted. Except for three young scrawny children who were often left out and teased, orphaned by the war and now were hiding from the village bullies under the pavilion, their ears covered from the noise, they now hid and watched as the woman slowly walked away from their tea and cakes..The children slowly wriggled out from under the pavilion, their eyes watching the skies, the smallest one a boy with an Afro and a ragged sweater vest and shorts and bandaids on his knees, he crawled across the grass and grabbed some scones that the woman had left behind. The older child, a girl with pigtails wearing overalls and a bandanna in her hair, looked like “Rosie the riveter” She was clearly in charge.She reached and grabbed the younger boys and stealthily they followed the old ladies, who slowly walked in a perfect line towards the center of the village.

They all gathered at the town marketplace fifteen beautiful ladies.Their hair was grey and their buns had become disheveled as they flung off their bonnets. It was time to track the dragons and the eggs they had dropped; this had not happened in over 100 years and the last time the darkness had almost destroyed the village. The dragons did not mean to destroy the valley, but they needed to hatch their eggs and raise their young.

The witches understood, but knew that somehow they needed to stop the carnage that some of these dragons would bring forth. They stood around the statue in the marketplace place and as they stomped their walking sticks or umbrellas on the cobbled streets their long gray hair started to twist into tentacles and their clothing no longer pastels and florals was transforming into beautiful velvet robes with satin lined capes. They were chanting a song in an older tongue. It sounded Welsh but mixed with another forgotten language and no longer were their eyes dull and grey but fiery and bright. The three children watched this spectacle in awe, hiding behind a discarded milk van, the driver obviously feeling the dragons in terror. The children gestured to each other, having heard the rumors of the village witches and now seeing it with their own eyes they knew they would have an exciting story to share at the orphanage. The chanting got louder and the concrete platform the statue was on moved slowly, revealing a staircase to take them down below the village. It was dusty and old, but one by one the fifteen witches descended the spiral stairs to the cavern below. Slowly, the children followed.

The cavern was a magical lare full of potions and herbs so they could concoct their spells. There were ornate cages with rats and bats, and of course, high in the wooden beams, there were sleeping black cats. One witch took the cage of rats and walked further into the cavern down a long passageway. She was accompanied by five other witches carrying various pots. The passageway led out of the village down below the church and opened out through an old gate into a deep part of the valley. In the distance there were smoke spirals which marked where the dragons had burnt the ground and dropped the eggs. The adult dragons would leave perhaps to another planet, not even the witches knew how far they traveled or from where they came, just that once they dropped the eggs, the adult dragons disappeared.The witches did know that the eggs would hatch in days and then the young dragons would search for food and havoc, and this had led to barbaric consequences.

The last time this had happened all the baby dragons had been slaughtered by villagers from a nearby town, with many of those villages dying a fiery death. The witches knew this time they needed to save the young dragons and protect them so as to harness their powers, as these were truly magical creatures, although incredibly dangerous.The children had heard the stories of the slaughter of the dragons, and it was terrifying, but now they were confused about what the old ladies were about to do.

Now the witches were using their potions to transform the rats into sleek silver horse like creatures with rat heads, not scary, just sleek and beautiful.The children, having followed them down the long passageway were watching in awe. The witches left riding the rats galloping down into the valley. To collect all the eggs before they hatched.

The children, unable to follow the rats, stayed to watch the rest of the witches who were now mixing a large batch of some weird liquid.Unfortunately, at that moment, the youngest boy tripped and made such a noise all the witches turned in unison and stared.

They gestured to the pot. The middle child, a boy with scruffy long hair and a crooked tie,tried to speak. But was scolded by the witches to remain silent.

The children stared at the pot, were they to be dinner for the dragons? What evil was happening? The witches stirred and chanted, smiling at the children and soon the smoke from the pot changed color.

The other witches returned from their quest each carrying an egg in a cloth bag, so carefully. It was time to save the dragons.. so they could roam free in the valley.

To be continued..