Bewitching Hour

1

The timing could not be better for the pearly iridescent colors of the orange sun paling against the sky, lazy in its final hours of mild October. The night rushed forth, hungry for its audience in the sky. It was nothing new to her, just the waning of fall into winter. But it was the silence that always killed Joyce. The inevitable crickets that came at night, voicing their troubles; it was the quiet rustling of the brown leaves that happen to crush themselves on the breeze and pavement of sidewalks. That spelled October and fall to her.

She turned the mint green Ford Focus around the sharp left turn and the section of modes "hippy" homes lining both sides of the cul-de-sac. The neighborhood always reminding her that sometimes free will can be blessing and a curse, as in the case of the bight pepto bismal abode house or the mint green two story craftsmen on Sooner Street. But Joyce loved the independent and community spirit of the pretentiously named Foster Green Neighborhood, after the developer in Richmond, Virginia. Joyce pulled into her cobble stone driveway of her one story farmhouse, on the outskirts of the capital city. It was really modeled after the nostalgic red barn. The two huge bay windows that let in gorgeous amounts of sunlight lined both sides of the red front door with white outlines on the recessed panels. The siding was a weathered red on the house with matching white trim. The roof a weathered gray-black to give the appearance of time when she had the house built just two years ago. The yellow and red rose bushes were slowly closing their buds, getting ready for both night and the coming winter. The white fence that lined the property by the driveway and walk to her door was warm and welcoming. She eased her car into the red barn door of her garage, pressing the button above her on the visor to open it.

Joyce removed her keys and grabbed her bag from the passenger side as she heard her cat, Mr. Truffles meowing somewhere in the garage. The door closed and the inside lights came on, as part of her security system she installed last winter. Tying up her deep mocha hair, she opened the door of her car.

"Ah!" Joyce clutched her hands to her chest, "Truffles! You shouldn't scare me like that when I come home." She smiled at the tiny Tuxedo Cat. Mr. Truffle's eyes of deep jade green stared at her from the shelf he sat on. It ran perpendicular to her car door, a few feet away. He sat, non-discriminatingly, as if he was waiting on her all day to return.

"Well, I guess you must have missed me." The cat meowed in agreement. Joyce closed the car door and headed to the side door that held the pet door, leading into her home by way of the laundry room. The open doorway giving way to her eat-in kitchen and breakfast nook, the retro fitted stove of apple candy red sitting in the dark beckoning for her to actually use it, it would keep calling no matter how many times she stared it. Flipping on the recessed lights, she swung her bag down on her kitchen island.

"It's been a busy day, buddy." Joyce said, leaning against the counter.

Indeed, it had been one of those days and that only reminded her of the need for someone like her. A witch with background of both light and dark, she could heal you and just as easily kill. Not that she ever had the urge or the temptation. But she was in a position to teach and help others with her shop. Bewitching Hour was located downtown in a prime spot. However, it seemed today that her customers were a little on the... well, far side.

"My wife's been cheating on me." The man in a pale gray suit put his briefcase on her counter, "Do you have a way to get rid of her tits? You know, make her boobs deflate or flat? Maybe a way to rot out her cooch, you know her vagina? You have that sort of stuff, right?"

"No, sir. I can recommend a good divorce lawyer." She said.

Then there was the pierced group of teens that wandered in, "I so bet she has like toad penis or alligator semen in here." The group of girls whispered and chuckled to themselves, looking around the store.