Thank you to my critique partners! Their feedback helped me find Isla's purpose and emotions as well as adding a bit more direction to the story.
Night Cast
By Yara C.
It was past midnight, but before the sun would rise, the older woman stirred the ladle spoon in the boiling pot. With weary eyes, she looked out the single window, fogged to anyone who walked by. But nobody went up the mountain to the single cabin by the fields. Not on a night like this or any night for that matter where the dark purple hues drowned the night clouds, getting ready to cast a storm.
Isla still had a table full of flowers waiting to be plucked or ground down. Her fingertips dusted in yellow, she peeled back another petal from a bundle of chamomile flowers. Her eyes struggled to stay open as she topped the basket to the brim. She glanced out the window, worried the storm would arrive any minute. She didn't think she could go another round, the pollen slithering up her nose and crawling around her skin, but she had to. Carma was counting on her, and the sun was almost up.
She stood up with both baskets in each aching hand. They've been in the cabin since the sunset hours ago. Walking over to Carma by the stovetop, she asked, "Should this be enough?" Isla tried not to look as tired as she felt or annoyed by the itching all over. Still, she began to wipe the powdery yellow from her face with a nearby washcloth.
Carma did not answer right away. Her eyes moved from the pot to the window, as if an untimed race was coming to an end.
Isla thought they moved as quickly as they could. She knew people below the mountain cast wishes hoping the old witch at the top would make them come true, but they didn't realize Carma was drained. Before it would take an hour or two, a spell would be conjured, and Carma would send it slithering down the mountains to those casting wishes, pleading to be answered. Carma's hands did not move as fast as they once did or her eyes could not see the herbs outside where she sent Isla to collect.
A spark of fire ran through Isla. She forgot about her ache hands or the approaching storm. Isla tossed the rag. "I mean, abuela, what would happen if we took a bit longer?" She asked. "A spell should still work even when the sun is up."
The spoon stopped moving. With tired eyes and a strip of lines like driftwood creasing her forehead, Carma looked defeated. "Tonight, it is different. They speak of trouble... and change."
She repeated the same tune earlier to Isla, who still didn't quite understand. "I cannot just hear a few, but hundreds of casts urging to be answered." Carma paused, looking over her inventory laid out on the wooden table. She closed her eyes and listened. Her head was tilting one way to another as if she was navigating invisible lanes.
Isla wanted to understand. She tried, wanted to help people, but when was it enough? She closed her eyes. The loud gulps from the boiling water flooded her thoughts instead. Her anger created a wall, a void of no voices. She squeezed her eyes tighter, feeling her amber cheeks lifting. She thought of the lively roots that seemed to pulse still as they prepped them for the young witches at the mountains' rise. She remembered Carma teaching her it took time to listen, feel, and reach for the cast.
Carma's movements nudged Isla to open her watery eyes. She found her abuela's studying her before saying, "Soon." Carma filled her hands with another handful of plucked leaves, dumping them into the pot. "But in the meantime, another round of the same roots?" She pointed to the few pale-gray roots lying on a single dish.
Before leaving, Isla confessed, "I cannot hear them, the casts." She bowed her head in shame. "I want to help." "I've told you once before, dear Isla, you are helping." Carma pulled Isla into her embrace. Isla's body crumbled to the comfort of abuela's tender arms. All the emotions seemed to return. She felt the aches, the anger, and shame.
Carma soothed Isla's curls back. "It's not as simple of wanting to hear the casts. You must be granted, and only if they know you are ready to complete the casts." Carma took a step back with a hand on each of Isla's shoulders, she gave them a light shake, "How about those roots?"
Isla agreed and walked towards the large door. She wondered if one day she would faithfully travel up the mountain as abuela did almost every night to answer the calls before her. Her mother didn't even hear the casts, could the same happen to Isla? Their family line of witches was fading out, just like the moon tonight being taken over by the sun. Carma was the last practicing witch, and Isla feared it was the end of their family line. The single cabin on top of the mountain would no longer answer the casts below.
Stepping outside, Isla realized the boiling pot seemed to know exactly how she felt even though she couldn't tell what the brew was saying. Isla tightened the sweater around as the bitter winds of the mountain mocked her for wasting their time, and it stung. She squeezed the basket in one hand, marching over to the field of flowers. Her other hand was hidden in the pocket trying to stay warm before they would dig into the ground for the roots over and over again. It's not like Isla could take a shovel and rip them from the ground. Carma warned her of disfavoring the very elements that could answer the casts.
She found her march changing to a quick walk, silently apologizing to the ground. If only someone heard her. Isla laughed to herself and laughed until she crumbled on top of the flower beds, dropping the basket and covering her face. She couldn't do anything right.
Rolling over, forgetting the brew for a moment, she laid facing the stars fighting to show through the darkened clouds. Maybe the voices will never come. Maybe, Isla would be Carma's help for as long as they could, and that was okay. Taking a deep breath, she turned over and made quick work of digging out roots, filling the basket once more. She walked more carefully but in haste back to the cabin, noting the sun's rays peeking from behind the clouds. It was too late.
Isla rushed to Carma stepping out from the cabin, "Ready!"
Carma already had a jug filled cradled in her arms. She motioned Isla to put the basket down and placed the jar in Isla hands, "You are ready." She pointed Isla to the edge of the mountain.
Topic: Night Cast (final) (Read 1453 times)