Reinforcing Past

Teresa, wearing a loose shirt, baggy jeans and old trainers, walked up to the podium and with a gentle knock on the stand in front of her called for attention.

She looked at the women gathered there and felt a pang of regret. What a pitiful sight! What they had been and what they had become…

Do you know that Ireland, in spite of its tiny size, gave the world an astounding number of witches? True, they were not as sophisticated as their French or British counterparts, or as exotic and memorable as their Spanish or Italian ones, but they were good, sound healers and carers, which enabled them to use their craft all over the world.

‘Thank you for joining this quarter’s meeting! Very nice to see you all here!’

The room grumbled and shuffled in their seats.

One of them, wearing a worn out shop attendant uniform, stood up and went to get some tea from the little refreshments corner the committee had set up.

Teresa was starting to feel overwhelmed by the lack of energy her colleagues displayed, and regretted ever putting her hand up to be communications officer for the Coven. It was obvious she was not doing a very good job. All her attempts at What’s Up groups and newsletters had flopped.

Even now, she was not sure if those that were there had joined for the meeting or the snacks, or out of boredom maybe. The room seemed hot and oppressive.

It felt like the lack of belief of the witches in themselves, permeated the very fabric of existence and they were just left muddling through endless days of immortality.

Still, they all longed to be with those of their own kind, needing to relax and leave the guard down, even if just for a short while.

‘So, how are we?’, Teresa took a sweet, encouraging tone.

Grumbles, mumbles and chairs scratching the floor replied, but no words or anything she could cling to.

She was prepared for this, this time she would not just give in to their disillusionment, she had a plan. At the feet of the podium Teresa had placed, neatly folded, a precious cape, a cape as old as time, that had belonged to Dirri, one of their oldest and most feared ancestors. Nobody knew Teresa was in possession of this hooded cape, in recent times the witches even started to doubt that it existed. Teresa had it though, as she had other treasured clothing that had been part of creating history.

As a shapeshifter that used clothes to take on the appearance of their last wearer, Teresa was one of the few keepers left to mind and treasure such priceless items as the hooded cape of Dirri.

The witches in the audience were getting ready to leave, she could see by their movements and shifty looks towards the door. That is when she knew that if she was serious about it she had to act right then.

With a swift move Teresa picked up the cape and swinging it around, in one expert move, she draped it over her shoulders, tied it and put the hood on. The witches puzzled at first became entranced with the sparks, which turned out to be glittering snowflakes, that spread all over the room in the swift flow of the cape.

The whiteness of the cape was so bright that it looked like the person on the podium was lit by a powerful light. The room froze, watching in awe their ancestor hovering over the stage. They knew it was magic, but somehow their own disbelief was so deep that even they were surprised by the magic unfolding in front of them.

The white, cloaked silhouette made strange sounds like the waves hitting high cliffs, like howling winds running across the Burren. The witches were both scared and fascinated, and if you were to watch them closely you could see that small changes happened in their countenance, like they were focused and they understood why they were there.

Silence fell over the room like a protective blanket, and in the absence of sound the witches got the chance to turn towards themselves and connect to the magic within. Bright snow was swirling around and the magic in them shone through, rebuilding the witches from the inside.

Hoping that her little reminder of whom they were helped, Teresa took off the cape and sat there on the podium waiting for the room to recover. When the snow melted and the light returned to normal, she was happy to see that the witches were now smiling, they were engaging with each other seeming content to be present at the meeting.

Pleased with herself she gave them a few minutes and then called the meeting to order. They had an agenda to keep to after all.