The Grimoire Of Bridget Moone

Chapter 1: A Scroll

It was a warm July morning, the birds were already chirping and the sun was beating down upon the luscious fields of the Northern countryside. Between two fields; one growing golden wheat and the other housing around fifty red poll cattle, lay a dusty beaten track likely used by the farmers to get to their farmhouses each day and night. Just off the beaten track, there was a small woodland area framed with thick rows of bushes each filled with berries, thorns, and tiny blue flowers. Slightly further in to a part of the wood that was overgrown with deep-green vines which snaked along the floor ready to trip up anyone who did not step carefully, there was a weathered cobblestone arch. There were a few stones missing which made it look like it would collapse if the wind blew too strong. Under the arch was small but perfect circle of bright red fly agaric mushrooms and since the bushes and vines grew taller and more menacingly either side of the arch, there was no choice but to go through it into the darkest part on the wood completely covered by a canopy of oak trees and weeping willows. This part of the wood held an eerie atmosphere, like no one is supposed to find it. The sun was not able to penetrate through the towering, green canopy above, no birds chirped, and surely no creatures lived here. Through to the dead-centre of this eerie part of the wood, a patch of sun however, was able to break through the trees, and it shone on an unusually misshapen cottage.

The cottage, covered in moss with herb plants growing taller than the windows, was surely thousands of years old but still had a long life left to live as it heartily pumped smoke out of its chimney. Inside the cottage, Bridget Moone lay in her rosewood four-poster bed, hiding under her mulberry coloured sheets and avoiding the day ahead.

"Come on, Bridget, I'm out of mugwort so we need to go to the market today. Toast will be ready in five" came Mum's sweet as honey voice through the walnut wood of her bedroom door. Bridget groaned. She would have done anything for this day to be over already. She sat up and looked at Middie, a cat whose fur was as dark as the night sky and eyes the same colour of sage. Middie looked back at her; their duplicate eyes locked in communication.
"You know today is the day, Bee." She said, understanding Bridget's apprehension to get out of bed all too well.

"I know," Bridget sighed, "but what if I don't get a scroll today? I can't go back to another Magless school". Middie looked at her, she said nothing but from the look in her eye, Bridget knew what she was thinking.
"I know, I can't stay in bed all day" Bridget replied, defeated. "Fine I'll face this terrible day". She scoffed and rolled out of her bed, pulled on her indigo velvet dressing gown, embroidered with golden stars and moons, and grasped the door knob.
"You coming?" She turned to Middie, who yawned revealing every sharp white tooth in her tiny pink mouth.
"Well I can't feed myself" she joked.

As Bridget sauntered down the garnet red carpet running through the middle of the walnut stairs with her dressing gown trailing behind her and Middie close by, she could hear Mum softly chanting:
"Goddess of the Moon, Sun, and Sea, thank you for blessing the Earth unto me".
As Bridget and Middie walked into the kitchen, following the scent of toast, they saw Mum gracefully drop a sprig of sage into her favourite cauldron as it bubbled and foamed atop the fireplace hook. What a witch. Bridget hated to think how disappointed Mum would be if she didn't get accepted into a magic school today. All of the daughters of the witches in Mum's coven had already received their acceptance scrolls from Spellman's School, Magicae Academy, and the Institute for the Occult. Bridget was so sure she'd get into one of those three, but weeks had passed and no scroll had arrived. It was safe to say that Bridget had completely given up hope.
"If it hasn't come by today, it's probably not coming at all. What are the chances of receiving an acceptance scroll on the last day?" she hopelessly thought to herself. Bridget took a deep breath and entered the threshold of the kitchen.

"Morning, Mum"
"Good morning my sweet pumpkin" Mum smiled, her golden hair draping past her shoulders and sea-blue eyes glistening in the rays of the morning sun as it shone through the small round window of the kitchen.
"Mum," she hated to say it, but Bridget felt she had to prepare her mum (and herself) for the disappointment that was heading her way.
"If I don't get a scroll today-"
"Bridget, stop. It'll be fine. I have a good feeling about this." Something about the way Mum spoke always seems to soothe Bridget's soul and make her feel better about any situation.
"Now go and eat your toast, we have a busy day ahead of us." she smirked as if she knew something; a common look for Mum, then turned back to her cauldron.