The Witches of Marble Falls

III

The moon was high in the sky over the lake, casting a reflection on the surface as pure and still as herself; the town lights glittered off the water but did not obstruct the sky overhead where the stars twinkled. Agatha walked along the rocky beach, the waves from the lake lapping against her bare feet, her hands deep in the pockets of her overcoat. She looked at the water, then up at the moon, her face pained and questioning of the moon that hung above her.

As she neared a bend in the beach, Agatha stopped and looked around herself, at the lake, at the distant lights of the town, at the rocks along the shore. She saw no sign of anyone following her, no sign of any wayward campers and their flash-lights. Satisfied with her solitude, Agatha dropped her satchel to the ground and knelt. She gathered large rocks into a circle. As she placed the final rock in its spot at the top of the circle, she removed a small silver bowl and four candles—blue, grey, indigo, and black. The moon reflected off the silver bowl in rings and beams, filling the bowl with light, igniting her inner vision and power. She felt the silver of the moonlight flowing through her and heard each tiny wave rush over the rocks. In the distance, she could hear the roar of the waterfall and she could feel every drop of water that poured over the cliff to the lake below it.

Agatha stood from the circle and walked to the edge of the lake where the water lapped against the rocks in the gentle breeze. She bent and filled the silver bowl with water, picking out the small bits of debris that came with it. Placing the bowl in the centre of the stone circle, she positioned the candles at each point and lit them with her lighter.

From her satchel, Agatha removed six black organza bags—each bag contained a single hair clipping tied with a black ribbon. She had been careful to remove the hair from her nieces and nephew when they were not paying attention, which had been difficult. Kittie had tied them and prepared them for the spell with the bags. Agatha removed each clipping and, one by one, deposited them into the lake water, hers being the final to sink below the surface. With a stick she found beside her, she stirred the water counter-clockwise, humming under her breath.

'Sacred Water, I ask of you to cleanse the hearts and minds of those represented here. I ask that you remove all anxiety, pain, fear, and negativity—purify what is not useful for growth, wash over the souls of those afflicted.'

She slowed her stirring and changed direction, moving the stick in a clockwise motion.

'Sacred Water, I ask of you to bless the hearts and minds of those represented here. I ask that you open the way to healing, happiness, growth, and calm— anoint the souls that require your presence and uplift their spirits.'

Agatha finished the spell and fished the hair clippings from the water. She patted them dry with a black cloth from her satchel, and she placed each clipping back into their bags. The water poured from the silver bowl into a dark amber glass jar and she capped it tightly. Agatha clapped her hands above each candle flame, the force of air between her palms extinguishing the flames. With care, she placed everything back into her satchel and dispersed the surrounding rocks, removing any sign of her presence from the surroundings.

The return walk along the beach was peaceful as if her spell had taken effect; Agatha moved with a renewed sense of calm in her heart. As the lights of her home came into view from the lake-shore path, she felt that the calm had not only filled her heart, but had entered the home and dispelled the pain and anxiety of her nieces and nephew.