It's day SEVEN of Stacy Bennett-Hoyt's (AKA @rowanwolf66) festively fabulous 12 Days of Christmas blog hop.
12 Days, 12 Stories, each 200-300 words. The contest theme is gifts and each day has a prompt. Today's is:
The witch pushed her sleeves up and took a deep breath, silently cursing the Coven Mother for leaving her so understaffed. For crying out loud, weather wasn’t even her speciality. That was Jessa’s forte. Mala dealt in potions. Love, truth, poison. She could sniff out herbal properties in seconds.
But weather was what the drought-stricken town of
Lesser Morton needed. The
crops were failing.
“We need rain, oh Merciful Daughter of Magic,” the Mayor had said. If a mayor was being polite to a witch things had to be bad. They’d brought gifts too, as protocol demanded. Rare minerals and sweet wines, ground herbs and honey. The Coven Mother was partial to sweet wines and honey.
Three. Three was the minimum coverage for any respectable coven. Just her luck that Jessa had taken a fancy to the Riversdell Warlock. That meant a hand-fastening feast - in Riversdell. Only Mala had been left behind. The Coven Mother promised to save her some cake.
She clearly hadn’t anticipated a drought, which said much for her divination. Mala had suspected the old crone had lost the plot.
“Rain, you say?” She clarified to Lesser Morton’s fat bellied mayor. His expression demonstrated what he thought of that. Control the crowd, the Coven Mother’s words came back to her. Show indecision and you’re dead.
Dead. Right. Time to put on a show.
Raising her hands she uttered began the incantation, her voice slow and sure, swelling like the water sodden clouds, thrilling like the wind. She didn’t notice the pages of the A-Z spell book flip with the sudden gust.
R for Rain. S for…
The devastation of Lesser Morton was a historic event.
Jessa didn’t speak to her for a week. Some people, she said, would do anything to steal attention.