The Weeping Witch

Chapter Seven:

                  

I sat on the dining room table, peeling potatoes lifelessly. I stared blankly through the glass window, watching the full-of-life creatures bounding about. It was quite a perfect day, outside the walls which held me in.

  It was sometime in the afternoon and I still sat there with a knife in my hand, and a potato in the other. With each stroke of my hand, potato peelings would drop into the wooden bucket. I carved, and carved. I felt like the poor, helpless animals we kept here to do our bidding. There was nothing more to life than working, eating, and sleeping. And for me, well, I of course do all of those things, but I must be perfectly Godly along with it. It is quite a burden to bear. But what else can I do? I made a promise to my Grandmother long ago that I would not reveal who I truly was, until the time was right.

  I remember asking her if she had ever told anyone about herself.

  Grandmother had taken me for a stroll through some of the forest. For the life of me, I cannot remember how she was able to keep our ventures from the knowledge of the Reverend. If he would have found out, I have no doubt my childhood would have been much more different.

  We sat on the edge of that peaceful creek. Every time she brought me there, we sat and just listened to the soothing water rush by. It was interesting to watch, the water, that is. No matter what was in front of it, the water always found a path around the obstacle. For some reason, that really fascinated me. There was so much it could do. Water, much like air, was strong when it needed be, but it was also slow and delicate. It brought life to all around it. Without water, nothing would be alive.

  I remembered how I marveled at the beauty of the forest which surrounded us. The tall green trees that touched the bright blue sky, oh how I always longed to be up there with the lively birds. They never had a dreadful day, they were always singing joyfully. Whenever I would hear them in the morning, I instantly felt happy, and even somehow: free.

  During the spring time, the lovely wild flowers would bloom. And unlike the flowers found in the fields, the forest flowers varied in the most exquisite colors. It was like the gods and goddesses hid away all the lively and beautiful things deep within the forests, so that only a few special eyes could see their beauty. 

  When I asked Grandmother these questions, she never really gave me an answer. I never really figured out why.

But the moments which stuck with me the most were the ones where Grandmother would tell me the stories of the Gods and Goddesses.

  The Sister's believed that all of the Gods and Goddesses that were ever talked about were the same being. The one who created everything, the one in control. They have no name; they have no gender. They simply are. We call it whatever we like: God, Goddess, Creator, and any of the Greek or Norse gods. Names mean nothing, not to the Great Mother Goddess. That is what my lineage of Sister's call it: The Great Mother.

Grandmother taught me to pray the Great Mother. She told me the Great Mother would always be listening. And the She would aid me, if she saw fit to do so. Grandmother told me that when a Sister dies, we get to meet the Great Mother. It is very much like what the people of Salem believes in. They believe when a person dies, their soul meets God. Which is why the Sister's believe that no matter what you call it, it is the same being.

  I miss that place.

  The smell was so divine. It was like when I left the village, I would enter an entirely new, and breathtaking world. I love the forest, and as a child I told myself that I would one day live within them.

  Life changes.

  The child I was, is now gone. Now I have responsibilities that I cannot dismiss. I cannot simply run to the sanctity of the trees. I have my loved ones who I care about more than whatever freedom I would have between the trees.