Author Topic: The Goat And The Witch  (Read 5482 times)

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Offline Black Philip

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The Goat And The Witch
« on: February 19, 2019, 07:01:03 AM »
Filler, no reply, character introduction
Read with this this playing in the background.

A girl walked along the rows of tombstones and carefully placed flowers. Her bare feet left a trail of death as she walked, the grass now brown and without moisture. She stopped at a recent grave and saw the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. Roses - red and white - were wrapped in a reef of holly, and a white bow held the beautiful piece together, the white satin strings calling out to the girl. She looked to the name of the tombstone.

Ralph Peterson
September 1985- February 2012
Beloved Husband and Father

The girl lowered herself down to the grass, and placed her head atop the grave as if she was listening for his heartbeat. She smiled and said, "still fresh." She went to a position on her knees, and picked up the flowers. She brought them to her nose and the life within them seeped out and into her. She dropped the now decomposed plants on the ground, but took the white satin bow and untied it. Then, she made a quick headband with it,  pulling back her long hair and creating a 1960's, free-love look. Her dress was over sized and white, and her arms, neck and hands were covered in onyx jewelry. The headband really pulled the whole look together in the girl's opinion. "Thanks Ralph," she whispered, before smiling darkly. The only non white or black thing about her appearance, other than her blonde hair, was her lipstick. It was red, and the only makeup she currently wore. It looked like a vampire had fed and forgotten to wipe their mouth. However, this was no vampire. She was a witch.

Now with headband in place, she began to twirl among the graves, singing songs of the nine levels of Hell, demons and of course Lucifer. She went on like this, twirling and bobbing, until she came to her desired location. An ancient tree stood near the cemetery's center. An oak tree older than most of the vampires of this city stood as the central meeting place for the graveyard, and during the summer served as shade for those visiting loved ones. The girl had no plans to be here in the morning, so her reasons for seeking out this tree were different indeed. She carried with her a black, leather bag. It was too large to be a purse, and not large enough to be a suitcase, and it seemed to weigh her down as she danced over to the oak. Upon reaching the tree, she let the bag slide to the ground and quickly threw up her arms in thanks.

"Great beings of darkness," she implored. "I have arrived at the tree. What shall I do now?"

Her voice was high, and thin, with a certain edge that seemed suppressed based on who she was addressing. She danced around the tree as she waited for her answer. Black birds, rats, and other carrion eaters all joined her in her dance, and soon a macabre Cinderella helped form a circle of black death around the tree, separating it from the surrounding life. As if rewarded for isolating the tree, a black goat appeared to her. It's dark eyes were an infinite pool of blackness and void, and even the normally jovial witch dared not look directly into them.

"What shall I do beautiful one," she asked the goat, placing her nose on the ground as she bowed. The goat came towards her and licked her face, filling her with temporary power and stamina. Now she did meet his eyes and the goat's instructions were clear. "I understand," she whispered, and like that the goat was gone. The other animals left too, scared by the presence of Black Philip. The witch opened up her bag, and moved inside the circle of death she had created. From the bag came tools. Candles, herbs, a ritual dagger, sculls, entrails of animals, and finally, a single drop of holy water.

She lit the candles with a touch of her finger, one, two, three and so on, until a circle of candles surround her, connected by black salt, lavender and rotted apple cores. From the bag she pulled out a large book, bound in leather. It's pages were crinkled and yellowed and it's in center was the Egyptian ankh of life. Her Book of Shadows held the incantation she would need, and so filliped through the pages, uttering small phrases in Latin as she searched. Finally, she identified the correct spell and placed the book on the ground within the circle. She prepared the other ingredients as she hummed a little tune, part of her wishing she could dance as she cast.

She crushed the entrails first with the back of her ritual dagger, and smeared them across the spell in her book. The book accepted the sacrifice, and sucked the gore into it's pages. Pleased that "Book" was pleased, she moved on and began to chant. The spell was in Latin, and while she'd rehearsed the incantation before coming to the cemetery she still spoke slowly and with great intention. The witch shattered sculls as she cast. Her voice began to echo in the night and the tree began to call out to the larger forces of nature. Something wicked was happening beneath it's branches. 

"Oriuntur, magni mortuis. Rursus fieri viventem. Luciferum in tenebris suscipe benedictionem. Sic fiat lectulo.
Oriuntur, magni mortuis. Rursus fieri viventem. Luciferum in tenebris suscipe benedictionem. Sic fiat lectulo.
Oriuntur, magni mortuis. Rursus fieri viventem. Luciferum in tenebris suscipe benedictionem. Sic fiat lectulo."

As she progressed in the spell the book required more sacrifice, and so the witch cut open her own wrist with her dagger, letting the suicidal action fuel the power of the spell. The book sucked up her blood with greed, and kept asking for more and more. She couldn't maintain it. She needed more power. She placed a free hand on the tree, and heard it beg for it's life as she touched it.

Turn away sweet Tess. This is not you.

The voice of a woman now filled her ears. It was not one she knew and yet it gave her pause. Her chanting stopped, and the tree began to relax.

Come away from this place dear. Come dance in the moon, and let us heal you.

It was certainly an older woman, based on her tenor. Tess felt herself pulled to comply, and debated ending the spell, but the image of Black Philip forced out the intrusive voice and a screaming dark pain filled her mind as the goat spoke but a single word. "CONTINUE." She began to chant once more and to fuel the spell beyond her blood, she now drained the ancient tree's life force and channeled it into the gluttonous book she served. The extra power worked, and the grass mounds that covered graves began to shift. Doors to the mausoleums opened.

"Oriuntur, magni mortuis. Rursus fieri viventem. Luciferum in tenebris suscipe benedictionem. Sic fiat lectulo.
Oriuntur, magni mortuis. Rursus fieri viventem. Luciferum in tenebris suscipe benedictionem. Sic fiat lectulo.
Oriuntur, magni mortuis. Rursus fieri viventem. Luciferum in tenebris suscipe benedictionem. Sic fiat lectulo."

Her voice became a black echo, and her eyes turned black including her whites. She could see the spirits now, floating over their graves. They were ready to rejoin their bodies, and Lucifer had been so kind to donate the souls of those punished in Hell. Only those in Heaven would be spared. The tree's leaves began to fall, the roots became brittle. The spirit of life that hung to it faded, and fueled the final part of the spell. The witch took the small vial with holy water and held it in position. She switched to English, and within her final casting words let all her remaining power enter it.

"Let holy become unholy. Let life become death, and let death become undeath!"

She poured the drop of water on to "Book" and it was made dark. Her eyes saw spirits fly into rotted bodies. Zombies burst forth from their graves, and walked forth from the mausoleums. Bones, skeletons, half rotted corpses, and the freshly dead all rose and all began working their way towards the tree and the witch.

Even Mr. Peterson had joined them, his suit covered in dirt, but his flesh was largely still unrotted. He'd been a good looking man. To him alone the witch gave different instructions. "Go home to your wife and child. Tell them you love them one last time. Then return to me." Mr. Peterson nodded and began to shuffle towards the gates. To the rest of the assembled army of the dead she gave only one instruction. "Cause chaos." With that corpses and zombies made their way out into the now unguarded north district. She wanted to see who would come to clean up her little mess. She needed to know what the vampires who ruled this city could do and sending her little army was a good first test.

She was tired now, and rose to leave this place. Her work was done for now. She'd been sent here to this city to find two witches, and she hoped this action might get their attention. There was a new witch bitch in town, and she didn't do party tricks.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

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