Ruby Witchette

Within the woods, past meadows of wildflowers and tall grass, through herds of trees and over burrows in the ground, sits a lone pear tree. One more grand, healthy and beautiful than any of its kind nearby. Its large branches spread majestically in the sky, fruit in full bloom all summer long, with leaves of vibrant green fluttering in breezes, allowing light to peak through, constantly casting illusions in shadows all around.

At the lively tree’s base sits a small, elegant green bench on a porch, that wraps around its giant trunk. Encased in there is an olive-green door with an entrance big enough for the average human and bolted at its center is a black knocker and a sliding panel to peer out of. To the entry’s right hangs a small lantern, lit with glowing, floating bubbles of bright pale pink. Attached by twine is a sign that sways and reads, “Pink for stay, blue for away, yellow for leave a note and return at dawn on the stroke.”

Of course, inside such a tree could only reside someone special. A being of utmost cleverness and unique abilities. This one in particular is small, child-like and filled with wonder. She prefers the company of critters and creatures over those of women and men. Throughout her days, she weaves enchanted baskets that keep produce, herbs and bread fresh, while during the night she brews potions of healing and growth for those in need.

Ruby Witchette is what the town folk call her. A peculiar witch, who’s been around for an unknown number of years, taking on odd jobs when requested and bringing pear pie and juice whenever she journeys into their petit village of Sucklewood. The four-foot-ten sorceress always dons her same cloak of onyx and deep green, patterned with ivy and vines, and her faded red hair is usually tied in two pigtails, curling at their ends.

Today is no different… well, almost. It’s Halloween. Ruby’s favorite day of the year. One filled with long time traditions, cheer and tremendous fun. So, in preparation of her all-time beloved holiday, she baked a last-minute pumpkin pie and adds it to the picnic that takes place every year at high sun with her closest friends. After a last glance to ensure everything is there, the little witch picks up her basket and strolls for the exit.

Many assume upon entering that they’ll find a tiny, cramped space, and are pleasantly surprised to stumble into a homey room. Somehow, this single pear tree contains a tiny foyer, lounge, fireplace, and stairs to a whole other level. Naturally, for all this to be possible, magic is necessary. To be able to contain, control and perform such powers takes knowledge and practice. Coming from a family of witchcraft means Ruby is no stranger of dabbling in the arts or sorcery.

With a flick of her birch and bat fang wand, the olive door closes and the bubbled lantern fades to blue. Another swish brings an old wagon out from behind the living structure and Ruby deposits her package inside. After taking hold of its handle, she wheels it along and travels down a warn down path in the foliage. Shortly, the pigtailed red head arrives to a modest clearing by a creek, a simple gazebo perched along its bank and rocks. Predictably, she is the last to turn up. Attending late is second nature to the oddity, as time escapes her often.

“Happy Halloween!” Ruby chimed to the table of misfits as she joins them, adding her basket to the assortment of others.

“Happy Halloween.” Two of four replied easily. The first, Draco, a small dragon fairy of Faymountains, and secondly, Ingrid, a reptilian shapeshifter of Swamptien. Daisy, a gray and white sheep dog gives a happy woof and tail wag as greeting, while Cricket, a long-haired black cat with sunset orange eyes, blinks awake from his slumber and slowly stretches of at the tables center.

Together, they dine and celebrate festively, filing their bellies full, before moving onto their next tradition, pumpkin carving. From her magic basket, Ruby produces three perfect pumpkins and the utensils needed to create and carve. With help from one another, they remove the guts and seeds, soon cutting out spooky faces to make jack-o-lanterns for tonight. Once finished, they load their masterpieces into the wagon with everything else and venture on to their next practice of spider hunting.

For over the next three hours, Draco, Ingrid and Ruby participate in their yearly competition for finding the coolest spider. Ingrid has been the reigning champion for six years straight and both competitors are set on dethroning her. Nearing dusk, Daisy barks to announce time is up and the three friends race back, holding out their eight-legged finds.

“WOW!” Draco gasps, his crimson eyes shining at the white and teal orb weaver on Ingrid’s palm.

“Right? She’s a beauty!” Ruby agrees, the shapeshifters arachnids color scheme alluring and vivid, compared to hers, which is a dull maroon in comparison.

“Does this make it seven then?” Ingrid quipped, earning chuckles and nods, the witch and fairy already knowing winning is a lost cause, besides its all-good fun either way. On that note, they return the spiders to nature and embark to Ruby’s tree lodging, where they quickly set lit candles inside their pumpkins and place them on her porch. The flames flickered, alighting the Jack-O-Lanterns up and giving them life.

Now gathering around a small firepit a few yards away, the group, dog and cat, start on the last Halloween tradition, a campout. Flicking her wand, the pigtailed sorceress lights a flame and waves a cauldron over to hang above the fire while simultaneously pulling a brown pouch from her inner cloak.

Ingrid carries a jug of milk over, pouring it in the iron pot as Ruby mixes in sweet-smelling powder and spices, stirring it with a wave of her hand and embellishing in the aroma, like the reptilian featured girl beside her.

Draco joins them, holding a tray with three mugs and two bowls, settling it on a large flat rock and sitting down on a wooden chair. The other two copy his actions and almost immediately, they begin their usual telling of spooky stories and fairytales. Hot cocoa is passed around when ready and they snack on ghost shaped cookies, performing spells and tricks with their magics.

All appeared to be continuing as usual, until a sneeze disrupts Ruby’s sentence. What’s strange though, is that neither one of three friends is the culprit, nor the animals who are fast asleep at the witches’ feet and on her lap.

All appeared to be continuing as usual, until a sneeze disrupts Ruby’s sentence. What’s strange though, is that neither one of three friends is the culprit, nor the animals who are fast asleep at the witches’ feet and on her lap. With a glance at the dark woods, the little redhead shrugs and shifts to address whoever is hidden in the shadows. “You don’t have to be afraid. Join us.” She says with a soft smile.

“Inviting a stranger over on a night such as this? You’re very trusting.” The newcomer hummed, their deep voice echoing smoothly just outside of their view.

“Living would be no fun if you feared every outsider and unknown thing.” Ruby answers without worry.

“I suppose you’re right.” They admit stepping into the firelight and revealing themself. A Mantisman with lanky, multiple limbs, and sharp fangs stands tall in all his glory. His larger than average eyes reflect flames beautifully and his hard-shell shines various colors extraordinarily. “I am Oswald.”

“Welcome Oswald.” The three good friends chimed. “Cocoa?” Ingrid questioned, holding out a mug for him. He happily obliged, sipping at the warm drink and listening to their introductions.

From that night on, three became four, and tradition continued as always.