Everything is Magic

It was rumored the old woman was a witch and a witch was exactly what was needed. The child’s mother was sick and nothing else could be done to save her. The little girl was terrified as the wandered the path through the wood, but she was determined. Her father had told her to stay out of the wood since it was dangerous. There were animals in the woods that could kill her. Snakes. Wolves. Bears.

As she walked, quietly, trying not to alert any of the creatures to her presence, her footsteps muffled by the bed of pine needles, she thought about what she would say to the witch, playing the conversation over in her mind. What would the witch ask for in return? They had no money, having spent what little they had on doctors already. She had overheard her parents talking late last night about it. They couldn’t pay any of their bills anymore.

The girl wasn’t particularly concerned about any of that. She was concerned with getting her mother well. She didn’t care if it cost them everything they had. She’d even sacrifice her beloved pony if it would save her mother. Hopefully, the witch didn’t need a pony though.

The forest was alive with birds, as it was a sunny day, and she kept following the trail as the legend said. She hoped it was true. All the kids at school told the same tale; there had to be some truth to it. Deep in the woods at the end of the trail lived an old woman in a cottage that was a witch who sold potions that could make people sick or well, depending on what you needed. And the child needed such a potion desperately.

She hadn’t expected it to take this long, however. She should have packed something to eat and some water. Her feet hurt. She was hot. But she kept on until she couldn’t take another step; until she had to rest. Leaning against a sturdy pine tree, she promptly fell asleep.

“Wake up!” A stick poked her in the ribs and, as she opened her eyes, she saw a very old woman standing in front of her holding the long stick. She was dressed in typical hiking clothes, long loose khaki pants, heavy boots, a red plaid shirt and wide brimmed straw hat. Her bright red hair was in a long braid down her back. The girl scrambled to her feet. Looking around, she saw the cottage, which she clearly hadn’t remembered seeing she when feel asleep.

“Are you lost?” the old woman asked the child.

“No. Well, maybe. Actually, I don’t know. I’m looking for a cottage in the woods where they say an old witch lives that can give me a potion that I’m hoping can save my mother’s life. She’s very sick and she’s going to die, and I have to save her,” she blurted out all at once.

“This is the only cottage in the woods, so you’d better come in. We can talk over a cup of tea.”

It was a cottage straight out of a fairy tale, not one she would have expected in the middle of the forest. It had a fresh coat of white paint and a thatched roof. Window boxes full of colorful flowers joined flowers all around the border and a bright red door welcomed them. The largest herb garden she had ever seen was laid out neatly next to it, surrounded by a wire fence. Some chickens were scattered around and there was even a pasture with a cow. Inside there was a tiny wooden table and two chairs in front of a roaring fire. A teapot and two teacups were already set on the table, together with a plate full of sugar cookies.

“So you need a potion to save a life. That’s a very difficult potion to create. And it requires an ingredient I don’t possess. So, although I’d love to help you, I’m afraid that I cannot.”

“But you’re my last hope. I’ll do anything you ask. What do you need?” begged the child.

“I don’t need anything. It’s what you need: a tail feather from a Scarlet Macaw. Unfortunately, they are all but extinct and there are very few left. The few that still exist are protected in national parks in Central America.”

“Is there a potion that would get me to Central America?”

“Oh, so now you require two potions. And how would I be reimbursed for these potions?”

“I have a pony I could give you.”

“Pfft. What use do I have for a pony at my age? What I need is an apprentice. Even witches don’t life forever and I need to train someone to take over. “

“Me, a witch? But aren’t witches evil?”

“If you’ve come to me for help, perhaps insulting me isn’t the best way to begin, eh? But like everyone else, you’ve been misinformed as to the beliefs of witches, or Wiccans. We answer a call to protect the animals and the environment. We worship Mother Earth, who gives us our power to have and perform magick. It’s a powerful call, full of passion, creativity and deep intuition. Humans seeking to destroy the planet for their own personal greed have always portrayed us as evil because it's contrary to their objective.

If you’re willing, and if you can obtain the tail feather I require from the Scarlet Macaw, then return here before the new moon in two days and we’ll see about a potion to help your mother.”

“But how will I get to central America?”

“Nothing magical about that; all you need is a passport and a ticket.” And with that, the old woman got up and opened a drawer in the writing desk (which the girl would have sworn hadn’t been there earlier) and withdrew a brand-new navy-blue passport with her picture in it and a dozen blank pages, together with a roundtrip airline ticket to Belize and an unlimited pass for the bus. One could get used to magick. So, with instructions to not drink the water and not give any coin to the children, off she went.

As soon as she arrived, she deeply regretted not having done some research on the plane as she was unprepared for a land covered almost entirely by rain forest and bordered by an ocean of pristine blue-green. She wasted no time locating a map of the various bus routes and sought one to the nearest national forest. She quickly understood the instructions to not encourage the children begging for coins, but she found the temptation impossible to deny. Never again would she complain about being poor, for a level of poverty that caused infants to nap on cement was a poverty she had never witnessed before. Dispersing all the coins she magically found in her pocket, she escaped onto the bus.

Hopping off at her destination, with the hope she found the Scarlet Macaw quickly, for not only was she eager to get home, she wasn’t eager to ride on the narrow, two-lane, potholed roads again either. The girl arrived at the largest of the three national parks in Belize, Chiquibul National Park, listed in the pamphlet she found at the airport to be the largest breeding ground for the Scarlet Macaw.

There was a photograph of the bird in the pamphlet and it was magnificent. Its head was a bright red, offset by wings of bright blue and even brighter yellow. It was hard to believe there were so many vivid colors on one bird. The bluebirds back home weren’t that blue, nor were the sunflowers that yellow, but it was the brilliant red that obviously gave it its name. It was a large bird, almost three feet, with a wingspan that was as wide. The girl was excited to see one in person.

Accustomed to the solitude of her forest back home, she was again unprepared for the cacophony of noise in a rain forest. These birds didn’t sing, they screeched. The insects neither hummed nor buzzed, they chattered. And the chorus of frogs signaled their numbers to be in the thousands. She could hear a constant running of water but couldn’t tell the source. Vultures and toucans seemed to mock her, as they appeared at every turn. She could hear creatures moving in the trees above and assumed them to be monkeys, although they were so swift, she could never spy them.

She even glimpsed a Green Macaw, whistling at her from its perch, but no red one was to be found. Discouraged, she made her way back to the bus, determined to try another park tomorrow. However, she found no Scarlet Macaw there either, or at the third park. Now she was panicking, for she had to have the feather to the witch tomorrow! Stopping to grab a bottled water at the entrance to the park with some of the coin which kept appearing in her pocket, she was again surrounded by begging children. This time, desperation caused her to bravely ask them for help.

The children led her by the hand to a ramshackle hut which was clearly their secret hiding spot. Built of large dead brown leaves laid over carefully placed sticks, inside were items that were the treasures of childhood: Smooth oval rocks, broken seashells, old bones, sea glass and bird feathers. The smallest boy reached behind a log, which she assumed was used as a chair, and lifted a well-worn cigar box, inside of which was a bright red tail feather. The girl had no way of knowing if this was from a Scarlet Macaw, but at this late date, she had no choice. Happily donating all the coins in her pocket for their generosity, the girl left for home.

Running through the trail in the forest, she arrived at the spot where the cottage should have been…. Had she taken a wrong turn? That didn’t seem possible as there was only one trail leading through the wood behind her house. Still, she wandered here and there, searching until the sun was setting and she was lost.

Tears filled her eyes as she slumped to the forest floor. All for nothing. She was too late. Tears turned to sobs until, spent and exhausted, she cried herself to sleep, holding tight to the long red feather.

“Wake up!”

Startled, the girl opened her eyes to see a young woman, not much older than she, dressed in a light spring dress and sandals, poking her with a long stick. She had the same hat as the old woman and the same long red braid, though.

“You look confused; expecting someone else?” the woman enquired.

“Actually, yes I was, sort of. I came to see an old woman, but I couldn’t find her. Even her cottage has disappeared.”

“That cottage right there?” the woman asked and pointed to the old woman’s cottage, and herb garden, and chickens and cow. But….

“Forgotten about magick already, have you? Tsk. Maybe you’re not the one to be my apprentice.”

“YOUR apprentice? I thought….” The girl didn’t seem to be able to finish a sentence.

“Come on, let’s head inside and see about making that potion for your mother.” This time, the fireplace had two comfortable stuffed chairs on either side of it and a large black cauldron hanging by a hook in the middle. They each took a seat in one of the chairs.

“So, tell me, what have you learned?” asked the young woman.

“Besides magick being real?”

“Everything is magic”, replied the witch. “Rainbows are magic. The sunrise is magic. Hemlock is magic. The Ballybunion piper was magic. Dragons are magic. What else?”

“That there are people much poorer than I. Not to be afraid to ask for help. The rain forest is a wonderful place full of life that needs to be protected. And there are no more Scarlet Macaws.”

“Yet you have brought a feather.”

“I have brought a red feather. I can’t be certain it’s from a Scarlet Macaw. I saw a Green one, and I saw lots of Toucans, but I never saw a Scarlet one.”

“Do you have any reason to doubt it’s from a Scarlet Macaw?”

“No.”

“Then believe in magick. May I have the feather?”

The witch held out her hand and received the red feather from the child. She placed it into the cauldron. Then she reached for some bottles on the fireplace mantle, which also had not been there earlier, and added a little of this one and a little of that one, until she had used all of them and was satisfied with the mixture. Snapping her fingers, the fire erupted. She turned to face the child.

“Shall we have some cake and ice cream while we wait?”

The brew was finished at the same time as their snack, although they made one stop at the herb garden before going inside. Stepping over the fence, the witch searched through the weeds until she found one with a dozen white blooms, each made up of a dozen white blooms. She clipped off one single bud between her fingers.

She tossed the floret into the cauldron, stirred once, and immediately scooped a ladle into a small bottle and, sealing it quickly with a cork, the witch handed the potion to the child, who thanked her and turned to run home and give it to her mother.

Although she didn’t want to appear ungrateful, she was still dubious as to the authenticity of the feather, so she stopped on her way and looked back.

“If this doesn’t work…I mean, if the feather wasn’t real…what next?”

“You must believe in the magick.”