A Dark and Secret Magic

by Wallis Kinney

As a hedge witch, premonitions come to me shrouded in the mists of dreams. But when I’m awake, I watch the forest.

“Intention is what feeds magic. The desire to have something done and then increasing the chances that it will happen, all through our intention.”

“Sage for wisdom. Dried rose petals for love. Thyme, parsley, oregano. All things that can be found in any kitchen.

Nutmeg, allspice, bay, cinnamon, vanilla, and black tea leaves. With each new addition, I imagine the wooden floors and walls of the house absorbing the aroma of fall and welcoming in the changing energy of the new year.

“I’d ask her to play Three Truths and a Lie, to practice. But instead, she’d insist on playing her own game: Four Absolute Truths.” He smiles so softly it’s like a whisper. “Then she’d prattle off three random facts, different every time, like the Earth is round, spiders are smaller than humans, candy corn is delicious.” He laughs. “After that, she’d wrap me up in her arms and tell me her fourth absolute truth, the same one every time.” “Which was?” I ask. He looks up and meets my gaze. “I love you,” he says after a moment.

“Hedge craft, first and foremost, is the balance between life and death energies. A hedge witch is guardian to the living and the dead alike.”

Magic without truth is meaningless.”

“You’re not walking in the freezing rain,” he demands, taking the tray from me. “I’m not as delicate as you think I am,” I say with a huff. “It’s not about you being delicate.” He grins. “It’s about preventing any discomfort on your part whatsoever. For my own pleasure and peace of mind.” “That’s a fool’s task,” I grumble. “Discomfort is part of life.” “Then a fool I shall be.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before snatching the boat of spiced syrup from my hands.