A Witch's Pinky

The house was silent yet sound asleep in a morning slumber. The pot steamed calmly as the fire crackled ember. Up and up they went out and into the air to never be seen again. The witch was brewing up her concoction, in her cozy little den.

"This brew will be EXTRA deadly today, ahahahahaaa!" the witch spewed with a hackling cackle. "Those soldiers will get what's coming to them if they try to tax me again.", the young witch devised.

The black cat scurried across the floor below, startling the witch in the middle of her ceremony. "AH!" she yelled, jamming her already crooked toe onto the table leg below. "DAMN YOU CAT!" she mocked. "I have no clue why all the black ones come to me. Never brown, blue, yellow, or any other colors cats can be."

The witch continued to brew her concoction of one frog eye, three random twigs, some grass she plucked from outside, and the last ingredient to complete this foul smelling potion of course, was her own left pinky. She insisted on putting it in to give the spell more power, but who knows why she actually did it. While reaching over for her small black spell book, she noticed that she couldn't thumb it out where she usually puts it. Turning her head to see where it might be, she still found no luck.

"It might have fallen off desk when I stubbed my toe." she explained.

She looked under, diagonal, aside, and even above for that small black book, but she still couldn't find it so she panicked, "If I don't find that black spell book this brew will set the whole house on fire! IN FLAMES!"

Running and tripping, falling and stumbling, the young witch knocked into just about anything. But this time was a book shelf with not that many on it. Just three books and a glass jar of fluid with a rat skull in it. Doing so jolted the far left book clean on, and also causing some of the rat juice to fly on her dress. "AAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHH!" she yelled. Slamming her hands on the ground she sat there and began to weep. Not in a believable way, but in a way only a child would when they know they did something wrong but don't want to get in trouble. She pouted and groaned, looking down at the floor. Not noticing the white book that had fallen along with the rat juice. She glanced to the side and decided to pick up the white and gold book which does not look at all like a witch's spell book off the dusty floor. As soon as she handed it she remembered, this was the book her mother gave her when she was little. This book with gold pages talked about faerie magic and healing spells. However once she noticed that she gripped the book with an evil intent and chucked it, sending it flying across the room. "I hate everything good!", she screamed. Blinded by her rage and child like tendencies she did not look where she was aiming and of course, hit the brewing pot sending the glowing green fluid all over the floor.

She gasped. "OH NO! MY PINKY!" Out of pure instinct she jumped up and ran to her mop. THUMP, THUD, THOOMPH, her boots trailed across the floor. She held her mop and pointed the end of it towards the spill. Without knowing what she as doing or regardless if she had he spell book or not, she spontaneously gave the spell used to clean up spills.

"Clero Sivam Haru!" she yelled at the broom. The horse haired stick flew from her grasp and hovered over volatile spill, cleaning it up with lightning speed. The which stood there in awe. "Wha-... bu-.. I don't have my spell book." she muttered with a surrendering tone. And in that moment she realized, "Maybe I didn't need the spell book, maybe I don't need to memorize all the spells in the book just to be the most powerful witch. Maybe all I really needed was myself this whole time. Besides, that's what my mother used to tell me.

She stood there for a while, shook and kind of proud about herself and how she saved the house. This was her family home and ever since her mother disappeared when she was little, it's all she has left of her. She felt a sign of relief, as if a barricade that wasn't allowing her to go where she needed to be had been removed. Thinking about her mother, she thought about that book she had thrown which caused the spill to happen. She looked around and spotted it lying under the desk just below her brewing station. It didn't seem to be damaged so she opened it and randomly flipped to a page with a cat on it. It was a black cat. She thumbed down the page and read this:

'Sometimes black cats are actually people who have been turned into cats, sometimes by accident or sometimes on purpose by evil doers. If you find yourself around black cats a lot and have an affinity for magic, it could be that they might just want you to turn them back.'

Below those words a spell read, 'Ahra Tas Ka Fa.'

She was curious now, what if the black cats around her were one of these humans who really needed help. She thought to herself and looked around for the cat. To her surprise the cat was sat up on the desk in front of her and looking her dead in the eyes. At that moment she knew exactly what she had to do. She gazed down at the words for the spell and took and deep breath.

"Ahra Tas Ka Fa!", she spelled.

POOF!

Out of no where the cat was consumed in a large white cloud of smoke.. The witch choked on the smoke and put her hand up to her mouth, being careful not to hurt her pinky. The smoke gave off the smell of cinnamon and apples which strange enough, brought her back memories of when her mother used to bake apple pies when she was younger. Through all the smoke and nostalgia she suddenly heard someone stumbling on the other side of the table.

"Oh goodness me! WOW!"

Crack, crack, CRACK! Went the woman's spine and neck.

The witch stood there in the smoke without saying a word, idle and silent.

"Honeeeeyyy?!?" the women called.

The young witch burst into tears, holding her hands to her face and kneeling down. She was in disbelief of who's voice she had just heard. It was her mother. Every time she saw the black cat and thought nothing of it, it was actually her mother, guiding and watching over her. A smoky figure walked through the smoke and towards the crying. She embraced her daughter.

"I'm so sorry mom." she cried out. "I'm, so sorry!"

"Shhhh. No need to say you're sorry, you did nothing wrong."

"But I-"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault I turned myself into a cat while baking apple pies sweetie. It's not your fault you did what you had do to survive and make friends with the evil witches. What would've happened if you didn't know any black magic when those soldiers came to collect tax? Hmm? Exactly, and I am so proud of you honey, I really really am." her mother explained.

The young witch lied there in shock, still getting a grasp of what had just happened. She never thought in a million years thought she would get to see her mother again.

Wiping the tears from her nose she asked, "How did you turn yourself into a cat while baking apple pie?"

"I was a fool and hummed random spells while cooking. You know what that can do.", she chuckled.

The young witch sat there in regret, holding her hand in pain.

"Azra Harm Saza!", her mother casted.

Before the young witch could realize it, she was wiggling her left pinky once more. She gasped at how fast the healing magic worked and embraced her mom once more.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I'm never going full black magic, I like having all five of my fingers. Oh thank you mama!", the young which exclaimed.

"That sounds like a good idea honey. Who did you get that idea from in the first place?"