The Little Pixie Witches

“‘The morning dew off seven nettles and whiskers, twined, from flirty hares’, or was it ‘severed nettles’ and ‘thirty hares’?”, pondered Little pixie-witch Bertie aloud, despite knowing all-too-well the pot she’d stirred in doing so.

“Nettles?! You’re mad, you are, if you think that’ll help”, Agathette chimed in as though her commentary were all but begged for.

“And only seven? At best you’ll give them a stomach-ache”, Camile.

“Here I was thinking the dew was to be kept on the nettles!” Gibby chuckled, alluding to the supposed humour in her contribution.

“Oh, that’s enough out of all of you! If you’re not going to be useful, you could at least do me the kindness of leaving me room to think!”

Any guilt Little Bertie held for snapping at her sisters hadn’t outlasted their collective childhood, so she wasted not one second of the sulky silence that doing so had just bought her. “Now, where were we?”

The bickering between the four pixie sisters hadn’t been helped by their confinement to each other’s company by way of Agathette, Camile and Gibby having been "relieved” of their bodies under unrelated yet improbably sequential circumstances, leaving their souls for Little Bertie’s body to shoulder (and back, legs, and mouth too, she’d add).

Bertie burrowed her fingers beneath her “toadstool cap” cap in hopes of scratching loose a thought or two from a thus-unyielding scalp, until— “Camile is right though…” Agathette Agathetted under her (their) breath.

“What was that?!” Bertie dared.

“I’m just saying—nettles will keep them off a week or two, but a little nightshade—”

“Nightshade?! We’re not murderers, you wretch!” their voice(s) now undoubtedly audible outside their tree-hollow home.

“Well no, not with that attitude we’re not”

“Lords, Aggie! I do love you, but sometimes you can be such a child”

“—Oh, my—” (Camile, loving the drama.)

“A child?!” Agathette’s temper was palpable, and magically so—static snaps echoed across their tree-hollow home—“That’s bloody bold coming from Little ‘Runt’ Bertie”

“Agathette! Would you just SHUT UP for once in —my— damned life?!” The pause that followed did not bode well…

“I SAY WE VOTE! Nightshade or nothing!” Sparks now whipping freely.

“Nightshade? How fun. I’m with Aggie” said Camile (of course).

“Aww, why do we always need to gang up on each other? I’ve got you Bert, don’t worry!” said Gibby, her heart at least in the right place.

“We ‘need to gang up’ so we don't always end up in a bloody tie, damn it!” Agathette fumed. “Who ever heard of a four-witch coven anyway?!”

It was a truth that ought to be more taboo than they ever remembered to keep it: one of them would be up for the chopping block, and undoubtedly soon at this rate.

Little Bertie sighed, “Ok, ok. Look, can we just—” the crackling hadn’t calmed.

“Aggie, would you please calm down for a second? You’ll set something on fire”.

“Oh yes, it’s always my fault when things catch fire, isn’t it? I’ll have you know I’m actually VERY calm right now, no thanks to you lot…”

“Then what’s—” right as she began to scan the carved interior, her eye-line snagged on black fur and sharp teeth. The cracking stopped and her body froze not an inch from two enormous soulless eyes, much larger than her own, set above a toothy maw mid-feast. A beast had stolen into their home and helped itself to the pixie’s hoard of acorns—damned squirrels.

“KILL IT!” Agathette broke the silence, startling everyone, and the chase ensued.

The squirrel made for the exit as Bertie made for her wand. A firecracker loosed from its tip, exploding at the threshold, catching a fistful of vanishing tail hairs (and the edge of a tree bark coat rack,) ”Agathette!” Shouted Bertie. At the same time, another set of scouting eyes retreated from the entrance. No time to spare, Little Bertie leapt through the opening and into the bright outdoors. Two more squirrels—both perched for a swift getaway.

“There’s a whole pack of them!” cried Gibby. The wand flitted about in contention. Sparkles, green and blue and red, flew in all directions (some even toward the squirrels.) Stars dancing across the bark left little mushrooms in their wake, while others hit the air, building rain clouds and rose petals. Puff—A hit! The scouting squirrel’s backside sprouted wings to carry it off. And then they were reminded of gravity—in all the commotion, not a single sister had considered where their Little Bertie might land.

Their rate of fall increasing, panic began to bubble while the ground drew ever-closer, and each of the sister’s intuitions would surely save them… were they not at odds with one another: two pulled up and two pulled down, leaving their one shared arm decidedly in the middle, unmoving.

Splat.

*****

“Well, this is bloody great”, remarked Agathette.

“Don’t you even start”, Bertie snapped.

“Fabulous. Just fabulous”, said Camile, eyes rolling.

“At least we’re all back home together!”, added Gibby, alone in her optimism.

And indeed they were—sat upon their little rug, their trove of acorns laid before them, with the constant crackle that came about as they were placed, one-by-one, within their new and fluffy face.