Witchcore: "Autumn's Wound"

The sign read SUMMER EARTH but autumn had drawn blood. It had twisted the knife until a trail of mud-mottled crimson ran through the forests and the hedgerows. 

The morning billows of mist left the fields in a sheen of sweat and it’s breath followed suit - ragged and colder by the day. It was an injured land and all could be done was tell it,  “hush now, rest”. The forest was bleeding and the wound tore further each day. But another creature in this forest had not bled for 2 months now…

The path which followed beyond the SUMMER EARTH sign post was now a tunnel dripping with decay, or dripping with gold, depending on how one looked upon the season. 

Those who ventured down the winding path beyond the sign were usually greeted by a fox with a glossy red coat bushier than the hats worn by the ladies in town - bigger every season. The fox would slip out from the bursts of blackberries nestled within the brambles and meander in front of each strange visitor. 

At the end of the path was an orchard and this time of year apples and plums scattered the floors in a crow-pecked massacre. But without wall or fence the orchard slowly melted into the forest and the pines started, through which a small cottage could be seen. There at the edge of a small allotment, the fox would be sitting. Although visitors would try to coax and tempt the fox, she was a proud creature, and her disinterest was always evident. Her head was held high and with eyes so sharp and elegant she would fit in well at any of the balls thrown at the nearby manor houses. The visitors would circle the cottage and call out but nobody would be home. They always came alone, their embarrassment at seeing the local witch always made sure of that. Then, as the fox watched with poignant interest, they retreated back down the path. 

Dante didn’t anyways feel like tending to customers but she did always like to see who they were. However, with this new development, she knew she wouldn’t be able to transfigure for at least the next 7 months. 

A small allotment and garden, neatly plotted in a square at the side of the cottage. It was to appease humans who came and were comforted by the selection she was growing, normal, tame plants. However it was nothing compared to what she had in the walled gardens deep in the forest. She didn’t always get normal requests, these were not normal humans living in this town. She would tell them to come back in a few days and collect what she needed out of sight. 

She had the terrible urge to dig deep into the ground under a cluster of roots she could see from the window. Deep into the moist soil, to hollow out a scoop and ready it for the little one, a cosy den or earth. But she resisted the urge, she would stay human until after the birth. Then she might burrow down and curl up there for a few hours. 

Set up a table with things on it throughout the summer. A little basket for payment. Nobody ever stole, or short changed her, they were too frightened about what might happen if they upset the witch. 

She wasn’t a witch, simple healing or hindering through plants. She couldn’t do spells or charms.

The fox transfiguration… She didn’t quite know where that came from but she kept it to herself. 

By Dani Hughes

While studying BA English and Creative Writing Strathclyde at University, Dani dreams of one day becoming a published writer. 

Dani welcomes your comments below...