Sunday's Coven

Out with the old,

In with the new

Set the gold

Bring the blue

It’s time to be bold

It’s time to renew

Lo and behold

Only what’s true

Now it’s time to be told

And be blessed two by two

** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **

Sunday did not understand why her mother had dragged her to this secret meeting. She knew she did not want to be here; she had better things to do. Yet, she was standing here, wearing the red cloak her mother insisted she wear, in a circle of cloaked women Sunday was sure she did not know.

Sunday watched the cloaked figures set up gold candlestick holders with blue candles they lit once they arranged them. Soon, the room was saturated in the scent of herbs and flowers.

Another figure in a red cloak slowly approached the circle's center and the altar. The woman and Sunday were the only two wearing red; the rest wore black cloaks. The red-cloaked woman beckoned for Sunday to join her, and Sunday’s mother gently pushed her to encourage her. Sunday slowly walked toward the woman.

The woman had Sunday kneel and remove her cowl when she reached her and the alter. When Sunday had complied, the woman began to speak in a chanting voice to the crowd while she anointed Sunday with a fragrant oil.

** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **

Out with the old

In with the new

Knowledge is gold

With thoughts anew

A change that is bold

With herbs that are few

Change-up is told

A leader is new

** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **

Sunday looked around, so confused. She could not understand what was happening. Why was she here? What was happening? What was going on? Who were these women? The smell of the herbs made her feel a little dizzy.

The woman surrounding them continued chanting, the words unintelligible to Sunday’s ears. Sunday thought she could see her mother standing where she left her, but the women all looked the same, so she could not be sure.

The candles flickered and sparked, letting off a more herbal aroma. The woman in the red cloak sprinkled the oil she had anointed Sunday with around.

“When you were born, Sunday Geisler, the stars aligned like they do only once every thirty years or so—selecting you to be the next coven leader for the Elmwood Coven. All the signs, all the omens, were right. We have waited these seventeen years for you to come of an age to begin your training.

“The coven picked out your name. You were fed a specific diet to strengthen you for coven leader. You were homeschooled to teach you a particular curriculum, and you were encouraged to participate in sports to enhance your muscles.

“Now it is time for you to accept your blessing and place in this coven as my apprentice. It is time for you to learn the wonders of being a witch.”

Sunday, at first, just sat stunned. She did not know if this was one big colossal joke or not. She looked around at the other women in the room but could not tell what they were thinking with their cowls up.

“Will you accept your birthright, Sunday? Or will you walk away?”

“You mean I have a choice?” Sunday asked?

“Of course, you have a choice. The Goddess gives us a choice in all things.”

Sunday looked around, still confused. The cloaked women, of course, were no help. The candles were smoking up the room. The fragrant oil was overpowering her olfactory system. She looked back at the red-cloaked woman and knew what her answer had to be. She had no choice. There was only one sensible action for her to follow through with. She looked the woman straight in the eye and said, “Yes.”