Toad Stew

By Rick Hartford

“Wand of the sky, wand of the earth, wand of the mysteries to which you give birth.

A shake of the wand, a fervent prayer, bring back the souls forever more fair.

Protect us from evil, Prince of the Dark. Be the light of our journey on which we embark.”

“Stop with the spell! Where’s the toad? I dropped the toad! How are we going to finish making the Witches Stew without the toad?”

Witch Sissy was on her hands and knees. “Somebody hand me a flashlight.” The rest of the members of the coven stood on their chairs, looking down holding their brooms and ready to strike.

Witch Penelope spoke up, which shocked the other members of the coven as she had not uttered a word for as long as anybody could remember. “I hate toads. Couldn’t you have just bought frogs legs at the supermarket? Don’t they sell them at the deli counter? Why are you always making life so goddamn complicated?”

Witch Sissy held up the Recipes of The Spirits, third edition. “Says right here, whole live toad. So stop snapping at me! And say three Hail Marys for that foul language.”

“Recipes are meant to be interpreted, not followed slavishly,” Witch Penelope said. “I suppose you are going to tell me next that the hair of the dog the spell calls for has to be from a dog that bit you.”

“We’ll use your hair, you old dog,” Witch Sissy said.

“All right, enough!”

That was witch Hazel, the spiritual leader of the Coven.

“Let’s hear the rest of the directions.”

“Okay, Witch Sissy said, clutching the dogeared page.

“There’s the hair of the dog, as you know…”

“What sort of dog?

“A junkyard dog.”

Just then Helix, the coven’s cat, jumped from a table and pounced on the toad, racing with it in his mouth out of the room.

“We’re gonna need another toad,” Witch Sissy said.

“They don’t grow on trees,” Witch Penelope said.

“Actually, they do,” Witch Sissy said.

“I’m not going to say another word. Forever,” Witch Penelope said.

“Starting when?” Witch Sissy said.

Witch Penelope just stared at her.

Helix came back into the room, setting the toad down and then pawing at it, sending it across the floor and then diving after it.

Witch Sissy snatched the toad up and put it in her jacket pocket.

“Ok. We are back in business,” she said.

“OK,” Witch Hazel said. What’s next?”

“A peyote button. A handful of Red Hots, three ground walnuts, paprika to taste. The tails of three blind mice…”

“Whoa! The tails of three blind mice?” Where are you going with this?” Witch Hazel said.

“We were going to try it out on Father McLaughlin.”

Witch Penelope suddenly jumped up and ran to the window. The other witches turned to see her leaning on the window sill and staring intently into the trees.

She turned to the others and pointed a finger urgently.

“Cat got your tongue?” Witch Sissy said.

“It could happen,” Witch Hazel said, looking around for Helix. She saw him slinking out of the room, carrying the recently deceased toad.

Witch Sissy was now at the window.

She turned back to the others, her face white as a ghost.

“It’s the Prince of the Dark!”

A raven could be seen, alone in the fingers of a bare tree in winter. From outside you could see pale faces pressed up against the glass like ghastly prisoners in a fish bowl pleading for someone to save them as the tentacles of a giant squid undulated in the background, the beaked monster ready for its dinner.

The raven, its wingspan suddenly huge against the sky, dropped down from the tree, becoming a sinister visitor whose face was shaded by the brim of a black top hat and a cloak wrapped around him like a funeral pall.

“You have summoned me from the Land of the Dead,” he said with parched and flaking grey lips, a skeletal finger beckoning the witches to him. They stood speechless, unable to move as if arrested by a powerful invisible grip which pressed down on their chests.

“Who among you called me, disturbing my sleep?”

Everyone pointed at Witch Penelope.

“She did it!” They all said at once.

Witch Penelope had a thin smile that broke into a cackle.

“We wanted to invite you to dinner, Dark Prince,” she said.

“Toad stew. I hope you brought your appetite.”

“I like my toads alive and kick’n, the Prince of Darkness said.

“Or we could do Popeyes takeout,” Witch Sissy said in a strangled voice.

“Fresh Popped Eyes? Last time I had those was with Vlad the Impaler,” the prince said.

“Or we could do wings,” Witch Hazel said.