Into the Night

Animated

With only one, debatable, failure underneath their belt the duo continued their lesson. One a bit disappointed, the other wondering if she could hear the corndog crawling away and swearing vengeance against the species that cruelty created it.

"Okay, this time I want you to not be feeling all alone and needing a friend. This is not the place nor the time for some type of Disney 'all things are actually alive" crap. That's terrifying. That's creepy. That's why I assume that all children who play with toys are little sociopaths in the making. Sheesh, buy a video game or read a book," Lilian ranted, forgetting the original purpose of her statement. She picked up a stray magazine left on the table by its last occupants and flipped through it as she blustered on.

"Here we go." Lilian returned to her original train of thought.

She tapped her nails enthusiastically on an ad for feminine hygiene. It depicted a gorgeous model with long blonde flowing hair standing in a field of golden wheat as the sun begins to set. She wore a white flowing dress and her skin was too tan for late fall. The white fabric swayed freely in a field of golden stalks of wheat. Why she was wearing an expensive white dress in a field of wheat, is left entirely up to the viewer's imagination.

Charlotte's took a darker turn than the creator intended. The young witch assumed the woman was kidnapped at a fancy gala, years prior to the photo. Then she was kept in a basement for over a year with other mole women as some type of doom's day cult.

That afternoon she rammed a sharpened stiletto heel through the cult leader heart before trying to lead the other mole women out. They had been there too long and couldn't imagine a life outside the bunker. Dejected, but not defeated, she moved onward alone. She retrieved her belongings, removed the Russian jumpsuit she was forced to wear, and brandished her old dress. A dress she hadn't wanted to wear that fateful evening one year ago. A dress she now wore with a newfound inner strength that her ex-husband had extinguished long ago. But now she sways majestically amongst the grain.

She is one with the golden grain.

Beatrix Chamomile Howell the IV, is the grain.

Lilian, on the other hand, saw a cheaply manufactured advertisement for an affordable douche. She recognised the dress from last year's spring fashion line and she could tell it was a well made knockoff. The model clearly had work done and access to a twenty-four hour tanning bed.

"This spell is so simple and will help us with not being hounded by police when we steal a few bodies from the next mortuary."

Lilian rubbed her hands together, building up heat, and channeling the magic running through her veins. Silver sparks slipped out from her palms.

"This is called a glamour."

She cupped her hands together, whispering an incantation to the light in her fingers, giving it a specific command while picturing the desired image. She lifted her hands over head before letting it shower over her. The silver sparks shifted from a glimmer of light to a translucent reflection, like drops of a melting mirror.

It coated her face, her hair, and her chest. Light reflected off her as it hardened and adhered. A spark of electricity ran over it and it began to change.

Lilian's image blurred from a pale picture of a beautiful black haired raging goddess, to the golden tanned beauty on the Summer's Eve douche ad. Her height remained the same, but her face and flash mirrored the model. To the naked eye, she was a shorter version than her, and dressed more appropriate for her surrounding.

"Ahhhhh..."

No matter how much supernatural events the witch witnessed, she never lost that feeling of amazement.