Winter Comes
A Very Short Story™, ©2008 by Esoterica
website http://www.esotericha.com; email esotericha at yahoo dot com
Distributed under GNU license. Free to distribute with author's name included.

The hall is hushed,and even the muffled coughs and shuffles of feet die away, as the the Crone slowly mounts the platform of hay bales.

She is old, but her voice is strong and heady with inner power and self-knowledge. She is sure of her speech.

The crone's flesh-draped stick of an arm moves in an arc above her head, tracing the lower portion of the Moon.

"Merry meet, my fellow Witches!"

There is a huge shouting, stomping and clapping, but it dies down soon enough.

"I know so many of you, but so few of your faces.", She says as she looks around at those gathered in front of her, smiling her crooked smile.

"The herbs are gathered and drying, like a garden that grew from the ceiling not the foor, and they will be ready soon to be put away. Their containers clean, dry and ready for restocking.

The call will be going out in just a few days, now, before the Exbolic brings us Winter, for those with healer knowledge to gather and swap the needful things to keep bones whole and breath within a body, swapping mind-knowledge as well as ingredients.

As always, we will bring last year's leftovers, and anything that too far bulges the lids of the containers, the extra gift of our Mistress that must not be wasted, but shared with those who had less bounty.

Just as the Imbolic brings us Summer fire, the Exbolic always brings Winter to us here, and the wine-bark tells those who look, that this will be a harsh time for us and those we serve, even moreso than is usual.

Stay strong and brave and put on a good face, for that time is not yet here and we do not want to frighten the children with more than their share of grief, but we know that hearts are troubled and will be troubled again, and again, and again.

Be forever vigilant, and keep the weak links of your charges under watch by trustful eyes, for they may break instead of bend, and disaster must not be let in among your walls, as I have often warned enough that that could happen.

If we only had wings, we could follow the birds, south to the Underworld, and never feel Winter's breath, but I think that would be very tiring and one would miss the last dew and the first frost, which are the most important to be collected and stored against the need to bring back this stong time, deep within weakening Winter.

My fellow Witches, this year bides for us loneliness, danger, and heartbreak, but it is up to us as always to keep our hearts gay and our heads raised, for many look to us to set the standard, and those we cannot fail.

Raise your goblets!", She shouts, holding her tarnished silver one high. "To our Lady, with who's help, you will all stay well and in good spirits, until Imbolic comes again !!!" She drains her goblet in a single drink and turns it over in the air to show that it is empty.

"And by the Goddess, Blessed Be !!!" comes the response from deepest memory, and the crowd all drain their goblets together, all but a very few holding their's upside down afterward.

In the huge roar of response that comes from the assembly, a cry echoes for a moment in the rafters: "Bless-ed Be! Bless-ed Be!".

Her speech ended, she is an old woman once again, yet filled with graceful power. Head raised, facing foreboding with inner strength and self-knowledge of many different lives, she knows who and what she is and was before, she is a Witch!

In many past lives she allied herself with the Lady who runs the night, unknowing, not understanding, but feeling within her heart and mind that this was the right and proper thing to do. Now, years later, she understood that that feeling was her previous life's memories and knowledge pressing upon her current life.

She had almost waited too long to find it out, all through ignorance of her past lifetimes, but once she opened herself to the tiny inner voice of her past memories, and accepted them, she was ever so much the richer!

The assembly turns and noisily mingles, unsure of what they will be facing this Winter's cold, but with her words to warm their heart and herbal cordials to warm their bodies, they might just make it through to the Imbolic once again.

The End