Magic, magic everywhere ...

Magic, magic everywhere, but not a spell for her. Better said, she did have a spell, a dry spell that was.

Moira looked outside the window gloomily. The Irish weather, the perfect reflection of her desolate self. Oversized grey clouds loomed in the sky menacing with the storm to end all days, but she knew that it was just business as usual for the weather here. It was like this one minute, and the next the clouds would part suddenly making place for the blinding sun.

Moira had had enough. She drew the curtains shut with an abrupt movement and went to wallow in her unhappiness on the couch. If only she could read, but she knew she couldn’t, her mind drifted by itself to the events of that morning. Why didn’t they want her there? She was one of them after all.

Yeah, she couldn’t perform any magic to show them she truly was a witch, but she was, she felt it in her bones, in her core. If they were true witches, they would have felt it, they would have known.

All bundled up on the couch Moira revisited in her mind the large, square room she had found herself in just a few hours before.

She could see the large windows, the paneled walls, she could smell the heat of the bodies moving about spreading a mix of perfume, almond odor and talcum powder. The mix of smells, the heat and the constant chattering made them all feel like a very busy insect congregation.

Moira was happy to be there but she felt tensed and awkward. The rest, all seemed to know what to do, what was expected of them, but Moira did not, she felt like an outsider and all she wanted was to belong, to be one of them, seen, recognized and accepted.

When it came to introductions, they would say their name and a word or two about the field of work they were doing. For example, an old, plump, curly woman, dressed in a plum colored two piece, introduced herself as Siobhan, crystal healing and somatic massage.

Or another woman, thin as a stick and wearing the brightest yellow dress Moira had ever seen, firmly shook her hand, looking at her intensely with piercing, blue eyes and introduced herself as Solas, shadow work. Moira was not even sure that was a real name, but there, at that moment, it did not seem to matter all that much.

‘I am Moira…’, her voice trailed unsure of what to say next.

‘Very nice to meet you Moira. And, what do you do?’, Solas’s voice was calm and clear lacking pressure, but in a way commanding an answer.

‘Ah … I am a witch …’, before she got the chance to continue, a frill covered woman from behind her, gave out a bellowing laugh.

‘Did you hear that? She is a witch!’, and the laughter continued now accompanied by other new ones.

Moira got all flustered and felt faint.

‘You need to give us more than that Moira. We are all witches here.’, Solas was comforting and encouraging.

Moira nodded unable to look up from her shoes. All the air from her lungs seemed to have gone and she was unable to breathe in any new one.

‘Stop laughing ladies, that is not the way to treat a fellow witch!’

‘As if!’, the disdain in the voice knocked Moira down completely and turning around, she made her way out of the room running as far as she could.

She had looked forward to this for so long and now the pain of being rejected was more than she could bear. The Witches’ Convention turned out to be a nightmare.

She had hoped they could see it in her, that she was like them, that she belonged with them. Now she was all alone again, with no idea of what to do next.

Moira had taken the bus home feeling dejected and disillusioned. For so long she had considered herself a witch, it was her thing, what made her special and unlike the rest of them all, of all those she could not relate to, and now, it turned out she was not one of them either. She was resentful and upset.

Maybe they were not witches! How about that? Not real witches at least, with real powers. What is that, crystal healing, shadow work, somatic massage?!? Oh, please! Give me a break!

Real witches cast spells, they changed shape, they created potions and, and they could fly …

That is when the idea sprung into her mind. Real witches could fly! She would prove them she was a real witch, she would fly and that would show them!

Imbued with the righteousness of her idea Moira thought about how to make it happen. She needed to study and she needed to try it all out before actually showing up in front of the witches.

This was a plan! She set about creating a list with all the things necessary for her endeavor. Books, a broom, a really good broom … Moira looked at the timeline. Oh, this will take her a bit of time, she might be able to join the witches in a year, maybe two. But it was ok, she had so many things to do!

With her mind going a million miles an hour Moira laid out the plan for her learning path. This will do nicely!, she said to herself, and a pleasant feeling of purpose and belonging comforted her.

This will do nicely indeed! First stop, the library!

Ain’t life grand!?!