Samhain’s Magic: A Sisterhood’s Spell in the Whispering Woods

The October smoky sun rays filtered through the rustling leaves, barely hanging on the branches of the trees.

I had left my morning coffee on the porch while crouching on all fours. I was stuck watching two ants carry a dry fly. They looked like ant sisters. The ants managed to move the fly to the bushes, and they disappeared underground.

The ancient Whispering Woods, murmuring old songs, cast a mysterious spell over everything. A curious eye could distinguish spiders marveling at dew droplets on their intricate webbs. Mice were scurrying after corn, oats, mushrooms, and roots, while squirrels were gathering seeds and fruits.

Fall was in full flow, like a dance of colors and rhymes. But the creatures of the forest were busy preparing for darker and colder times in the coming winter.

I went back to my cold coffee mug and decided to pour some warm memories into it.

My cousin Atlanta and I used to roam the Whispering Woods when we were small. We were soul sisters who shared a passion for herbal magic. More than often, we found ourselves amidst an enchanting autumn scenery, crafting our concoctions.

With raven-black hair cascading like a shadowy waterfall, Atlanta had a deep knowledge of the herbs and plants that thrived in the Whispering Woods. She moved with grace and precision, selecting the right ingredients from the mountain of greens that surrounded us. Her careful attention to detail transformed these elements into potions and salves for healing and soothing the spirit.

I, with my reddish-brown hair, brought a spirit of adventure to our activities. I was drawn to the smoky divination mysteries, concocting brews and incantations that held the secrets of the forest’s shadows. My bright, dark eyes sparkled with an enigmatic wisdom inherited through generations before me. I was attuned to the magical chime of the woods.

Together, we were an amazing team. Atlanta’s wisdom grounded my wild spirit, while my sense of adventure added a dash of unpredictability to Atlanta’s careful work. In the Whispering Woods, we were more than just blood cousins; we were kindred spirits flourishing in our imaginary world.

Or at least, that’s what we thought—that it was mostly an imaginary play.

One crisp fall afternoon, as we gathered herbs for the approaching Samhain festival, we stumbled upon a forgotten clearing deep in the woods. A gnarled oak tree in the center was adorned with runes and symbols, like a forgotten chapter in the mountain’s past. It radiated a smoky mysticism that drew us to discover its mysteries.

The chime of the forest’s whispers enticed us. We returned to the clearing beneath the full moon when the veil between worlds was thinnest. I don’t remember exactly how two young girls dared to do such a thing, but our mission was beyond what was thought to be common in those days.

With a blend of herbs and incense, we chanted ancient words that resonated with the power of our ancestors.

“Sunrise, the tolling bell,

Far away, far away,

Breaks the Raven-witches spell,

Oh blessed are we.

The leaves of the Oaken King,

Fade away, fade away,

Feed the seeds that will come in Spring

Oh blessed are we.” (From Samhain Eve by Damh The Bard with Lyrics Youtube)

The gnarled oak responded, its branches quivering in response to their call and the symbols etched into its trunk glowing with ethereal light. We were stunned at the sight, unable to move for a while.

The Whispering Woods revealed their secrets that night, and Atlanta and I discovered a world of enchantment far beyond what we had imagined.

Our magickal friendship, established in the spirit of autumn’s transition, grew stronger. The secrets of the ancient mountain unfolded like a dream, permanently engraving our names in the smoky chronicles of the Whispering Woods.

***

I originally published this story here. It is part of My Cousin Atlanta and I series. Also available on Medium. I will publish the stories also on Vocal.Media, one by one.

Please check also the previous ones in the series: