The wayward witch

Breezes calm and waters placid . Render this man's member flaccid! With these words Morwenna cast the corn dolly into the duck pond. She had made the crude image from a few strands of straw picked that morning from the wheat field nearby. She attached a tiny twist of wool she picked up from the hedge where some sheep had been herded earlier. The twist of wool was what made it a boy dolly rather than a girl. Not just any boy, the effigy was intended to represent the young man who had, the night before, refused Morwenna's clumsy advances.

"I already got a girlfriend," he had said, irrelevantly as far as Morwenna was concerned. After all, she had asked him to come for a walk behind the dance hall, not for his hand in marriage. And if the girlfriend in question thought attending church choir practice was more important than spending the night at the village dance with her beau, that was her loss, surely? Boys!

Walking home past the little church she looked up at the clock on the bell tower. Seeing the time, she suddenly bolted for home. She needed to get ready for the evening's gathering of the Daughters.

The Daughters of Damona met in the rural home of their founder, Cassandra Montacute, in the leafy county of Surrey, England, not far from the county town of Guildford. As the twelve women awaited the arrival of their newest coven member, with barely subdued impatience, Cassandra sighed.

"What are we to do with her," she said, to nobody in particular.

"You are far too patient with her, Maiden Mother," said one of the eleven. "She has been nothing but a nuisance since her initiation."

“Well, we are in need of new blood, Daphne, None of us are getting any younger.”

"New blood, yes. Bad blood no... By your leave, Mother."

The “Mother” was a formality usually reserved for ceremonial occasions but Cassandra had begun to notice it being used more and more and was not sure she liked it. Although she was the eldest of the sisterhood, and therefore ‘Maiden Mother’ by right, they needn’t remind her of her age at every opportunity.

"We need to be patient. A little acorn does not grow into a tall tree overnight."

With that, there was a clatter as the door was thrown open, Morwenna spilling in, full of apologies. As the bustle and chaos she brought with her calmed, Morwenna went over to Cassandra, to greet her with a deferential kiss.

"Greetings and blessings, Maiden Mother."

"Greetings and blessings to you too, my child." After a long pause, Cassandra continued: "Morwenna, we need to speak."

Somehow, Morwenna knew she was in for a telling off.

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A few weeks later, a quiet evening found Morwenna again walking past the village church. As she reached the old lychgate, there was a loud creak and the door to the vestry opened up, with Morwenna's friend Tracey bursting forth from the doorway.

"Morwenna! Wait for me!"

"Wassup, Trace?"

The two girls linked arms and walked along the lane together in silence until it was broken by Tracey.

"Wen, can I ask you something."

"Sure, go ahead Tracey."

"It's a bit, well, you know..."

"Do I?"

"No, silly, it's just... it's about a boy?"

"A boy?"

"Yes, a boy."

They had just about arrived at the home Morwenna shared with her mother, brother and sister.

"Why don't you come in an tell me all about it."

Up in Morwenna's small and untidy bedroom, Tracey did her best to confide in her friend, but was clearly embarrassed.

"Look, Morwenna, I know you have more experience with men than I have..."

"What you sayin' Trace?" Morwenna sounded almost offended.

"No offence, Morwenna, but you have, haven't you?"

"Yeah, s'pose. What is it?"

"It's my boyfriend, Craig. You know the one you saw me with after choir practice the other day."

"Oh!" said Morwenna, who somehow knew what was coming next.

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Wayward witch Morwenna features in another of my witchy stories - a three-part magic and mystery drama: Dark Clouds Gather.

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