The Witches In the Willows

 

A Family of Witches
(Close relations of mine)

The Beginning Before

(A prologue-in-progress)

It was love at first sight when Petulia Picklewhip’s parents, Pablo and Sophia-Paloma spied each other across the lawn. The Priory’s feted Cauldron Casserole Fiesta was boiling at full bubble. The day was brilliantly sunny. But as soon as the couple ogled each other, lightning flashed, tree tips fizzed and a shower of warm rain sprinkled down. A purple rainbow even appeared, in a perfect arch over the experimental topiary garden.

Pablo was a well-known wizard of twenty-five years.

Sophia-Paloma was a well-known witch of twenty-one. 

That afternoon, Motherwitch McMinty won ‘Best Potion’ for the 500^th year in a row, with her Bewitching Belladonna Youthful Forever Formula. Meanwhile, Pablo and Sophia-Paloma were concocting a spell to make the cherry tree they were sitting under in the Bonsai garden, burst into blossom. Pink, papery petals soon unfolded and they discovered their lifelong ambitions were the same! They both wanted to make good witchcraft. The world as they knew it was becoming increasingly filled with untidy, land grabbing witches. Forests were being cut down willy nilly. Crystal lakes were being polluted. Witch-castle prices were through the turrets! False nonsense by the way of misinforwitchmation was being spread across the land.

While the couple chatted, Pablo studied Sophia-Paloma’s features. Her long hair was as shiny and as black as a raven’s. Her eyes were the softest silver-grey. Her skin the softest ivory. Her high-necked, black taffeta gown was extremely flattering. And she smelt fantastic. She was wearing the latest and most hypnotic witch-fragrance on the market – Poisonne by Cauldron Klein.

At the same time, Sophia-Paloma studied Pablo. She admired his dark hair, slicked back into a wizard-bun. His smiling moustache waxed into two, upturned tips. His ruby red lips, which revealed a mouthful of pearly-white, slightly pointy teeth, when he talked. (Pablo had a slight lisp, witch she also thought cute.) His eyes were as green as green glass bottles. Pablo wore a snappy black suit and a white shirt with a very stiff collar. His boots were black lace-ups with sharp pointy toes. In fact, everything about Pablo was sharp! Especially his wit. That was razor-sharp! 

The priory bell rang. It was time for supper – share plates of meaty cauldron-casseroles. 

Pablo fashioned a ring from a piece of gold thread and the skull of a blackbird that he found in his pocket. He slipped it on Sophia-Paloma’s ring finger. ‘Will you be my best-witch-wife?’ 

A smile crept over Sophia-Paloma’s face, and the apples of her cheeks turned a rosy blush. ‘If you will be my best-wizard-husband?’ she replied. 

They held hands and said together, ‘I will!’ While unicorns pooed glitter in a far-off unicornverse.

‘We’ll live a long happy life together casting make-better spells on all the wicked people,’ beamed Sophia. (She’d recently won Kindest-Eco-Witch-of-the-Year.)

‘And we’ll have a happy family with lots of little witches and wizards running about,’ said Pablo. (He was an only wizard-child and had longed for siblings to turn into moths.)

Then they kissed, a very polite but very electric witch-kiss. The sky went dark. Cloud-sized, golden fireworks crackled and fluttered out of the sky. Hand in hand, they ran back to the crowd to share their magical news.

They had set a date for their wedding. It would take place in exactly one year’s time. On exactly the same day. The sixth day of the sixth month, June 1866.

Sophia-Paloma already knew their first child would be a girl, and they would name her Petulia Paloma.

Unfortunately, Motherwitch McMinty knew too …

PLEASE NOTE: This work of fiction (like all writing) is protected by copyright. This simply means do not copy it in any shape or form. If you do your hair will fall out! Or you may turn into a mouse. You have been warned.

A (very) YA Fairytale - The Wolf & The Girl in the Red Hoodie


Once upon a time, there lived a wolf, a very strange wolf.


‘Look Mr Wolf, do you really expect me to hand over a muffin every Saturday. Just because you stand on two legs and bare your yellow fangs at me. You really need to use whitening toothpaste BTW,’ said Little Red Riding Hood. 

‘Give me one,’ said Mr Wolf. 


‘Nope.’ 


‘Give me a muffin.’ 


‘Doubt it.’ 


‘I’ll tear that awful red hoodie of yours if you don’t.’ 


‘What evs.’ 


‘I’ll bite you.’ 


‘I’ll bite you back! Well, I wouldn’t actually; I’d get a gob full of fur. You really need to brush yourself. Your fur coat is manky as.’ 


‘Look, I was kicked out of home as a young whelp. No one taught me to hunt. I’m starving. I live off nuts and berries and roots.’ 


‘How can you? You must have those things…wha da ya call em? Oh yeah - instincts. You’re a meat-eater.’ 


‘My meat-eating-gene must have mutated. I’m a vegetarian.’ 


‘Aww hun that really stuffs up this fairy tale doesn’t it. You don’t even want to eat me?’ 
‘Please Little-hood-red-riding.’ 


‘Doh. My name is Little-Red-Riding-Hood. Red for short.’ 


‘Red. Sorry. You’re right - I don’t want to eat you. But I’d KILL you just to get one of your muffins.’ 

The wolf sprang towards Red and knocked her flat to the ground. She lay there stunned for a moment, then she kicked and squirmed with all her might and eventually managed to crawl out from under the skinny wolf. 

Jumping to her feet, she shouted, ‘Totes inappropes, Mr Wolf.’ Before he could respond, she grabbed her basket of muffins, thankfully still intact, and ran off singing. ‘Jingle bells wolf-y smells, girly got away.’ 


Slowly, Mr Wolf, now hungry and humiliated, brushed leaf litter from his coat. At least he could follow his prey, even if he had no desire to eat it. With his tail between his legs and his nose close to the damp path, he tracked Red’s scent through the woods.  


Red was so happy she’d slipped the smelly Mr Wolf. He really ponged. The sun was peeking through the high tree canopy, dappling speckly light over the ground. Red began to pick bluebells beside the path. But the pretty flowers were sparsely dotted about and she soon found herself deep in the woods ... 

Problem! Her Dad (the local firewood supplier), told her never to go deep-into-the-woods. She sat down cross-legged beside a fern, and plucked a thin frond and tied it around her posy. Then she lay back and studied the filigree of branches making a beautiful paisley-ceiling above her. Very soon she dozed off. Bad move. Because guess who rocked up? 

The now starving Mr Wolf. While Red dozed he helped himself to a muffin. Red shuddered involuntarily. His smell was so wolf-y. So disgusting. But she hoped he’d be in a better mood after he’d eaten. She pretend-snored and kept her eyes shut. Mr Wolf gobbled down one muffin after another. Strands of drool and crumbs hung from his huge toothy jaws. Urghh. 

By and by, he let out an enormous wet belch. Then he flopped down beside Red. His stomach bulged. ‘Sorry Red,’ he mumbled, and hiccupped. ‘I’ve scoffed all the muffins. I was famished. They were delicious, BTW.’ 


‘Great!’ said Red, sitting up. ‘This isn’t the story of the big-fat-pig, you know. What am I going to take to Granny now?’ 

 
The wolf shrugged. 
‘I’m outta here.’ 
‘See ya. Same time, same place,’ said Mr Wolf, rubbing his tummy and licking his chops. 


‘In your dreams, fur-ball,’ muttered Red. She backtracked through the woods, and after a few wrong turns, finally arrived at Granny’s house. ‘Granny you won’t believe what happened.’ 


‘Try me,’ said Granny, peering into Red’s empty basket. 


Red told her story. 

‘A vegetarian wolf!’ said Granny, raising her eyebrows. ‘Now I know who’s been raiding my veggie patch. And I thought it was Peter Rabbit. Don’t panic, I have the perfect solution for bullies who help themselves to fresh goods.’ 

‘Not your …’ said Red. Granny nodded. 

 --- 

The following Saturday Red set off as usual through the woods, with her basket of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Only, the top layer of muffins contained Granny’s secret ingredient. 


‘Sup, Red?’ said Mr Wolf, suddenly appearing from behind a tall tree. A startled Red tried to act cool. 

‘Hey! You shouldn’t sneak up on people. And don’t try and be all young and hip. It’s tragic. Seriously.’ She added a squeaky laugh. 


‘Mmmm, my, my those muffins smell good! Blueberry?’ 


‘Yeah! With white chocolate buttons. Want one? Mr Sir Hungry Wolf?’ She took a muffin from the basket and holding it under her nose she took a deep breath. ‘Mmmm, here you go.’ 

‘What. Really,’ said Mr Wolf, suddenly hesitating. ‘I don’t have to follow you to your granny’s house and dress up in your granny’s nightie?’ said Mr Wolf. 


Ewwww. ‘Nope.’ 


‘I smell a rat.’ 


‘Why? Do my ears look big?’ 


‘No.’ 


‘Do my eyes look big?’ 


‘No bigger than usual.’ 


‘Does my mouth look big?’ 


‘Just pouty.’ 

‘Do you want a muffin or not?’ 


‘I still smell a rat.’ 


‘No, you don’t. You smell sweet chocolate fruit muffins. Come on, Mr Wolf, you know you want one.’ 

Red waved a warm muffin under his snout. A spider web of silvery strands of saliva now hung from his jagged jaw. His stomach howled. He ran his long pink tongue over his yellow fangs. Next thing, he chomped the muffin down whole. 


‘Here have another,’ said Red. ‘Knock yourself out. Have heaps.’ 

 Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Soon all the six, special muffins were gone.
 The wolf rubbed his swollen tummy. ‘They’re very filling. I’m totally bloated. I’ll just lie down for a bit.’ He slumped onto a soft fern. 


‘Toodle-poodle, Mr Wolf. I’m off. See ya round. Not.’ Red skipped off down the path till she was out of sight, then she sprinted to Granny’s cottage. It wouldn’t take long for the special salts to take effect. ‘Jingle bells, wolf-y swells, girly ran away.’ 


The minute Red arrived, Granny asked, ‘Did he eat them?’  


‘Yep. All six of them.’ 
‘He’ll probably go Paleo after that.’

They both got the giggles and were soon rolling around on the rug holding their stomachs. Until a fantail flitted into the cottage and dipped and dived and chirped above them. Was the little bird warning them of trouble on its way? 


‘Oh dear, I hope we haven’t taken things too far?’ said Granny. 


Just then, Red’s dad appeared at the cottage door. ‘Did that pesky old wolf leave me a muffin for morning tea?’ he asked. 


‘Have you seen the wolf this morning?’ asked Granny. 
‘Yes. He was hopping from tree to tree like a wood-chopper with a missing toe,’ said Dad. 


‘That’s a relief,’ said Granny. 


Granny, Red and her dad were enjoying fresh mint tea and muffins on the porch when Mr Wolf appeared. 


‘I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,’ said Mr Wolf. ‘Gave me more than a stomach ache.’ Then the wolf’s yellow eyes flickered, and his stomach whined like ancient plumbing in a boarding school. He stared at Red. Then at granny (who might have been looking a little guilty.) 

Mr Wold continued, ‘Unless that was some kind of payback? It if was, I think we can call it quits now. I won’t ever be greedy again.’ His eyes glinted with what could only be - wolf-tears.  


‘Quits,’ said Granny and Red together. 


‘Hey, I have an idea,’ said Red. ‘How bout you drop the creepy stalking-in-the-woods act and be Granny’s guard-wolf. Someone’s been stealing her vegetables.’  


The following day, the old wolf took up residence in Granny’s woodshed. He dutifully guarded her garden day and night in exchange for vegetables (and the occasional veg frittata.) Mostly he looked forward to Red’s muffins on Saturdays. Some days, he took a stroll in the woods, but he made sure he never crept up on anyone, ever again. 

So strange as it may seem, Red, her Dad, Granny and Mr Wolf did all live happily ever after.

(This is a re-edited version of a story I submitted to the Goethe Institute, Wellington, back in 2013)