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Chapter 1
I’m a basic sort of pumpkin spice witch. I love it when autumn rolls around and everything is simply just pumpkin. Pumpkin everywhere. I’m the first person in line at the coffee shop for my large pumpkin spice latte with an extra shot of espresso and heavy on the pumpkin goodness. I know that I’m probably a walking seasonal cliche with my frizzy, want-to-be-blonde hair, orange knit shirt, and black, slouchy pants, as my shit-kicking little black boots carry me out of the coffee shop. I sip on my coffee leisurely as I walk along the strip mall. Despite the hellish heat that still manages to maintain its grip this time of the year, the entire strip mall is pretending that instead of Louisiana that we are somewhere in New England with cheerful blotches of autumn color.
It gives me a pang of homesickness, but I ruthlessly quash it, reminding myself that New England in the fall may be pretty, but the winters were cold and wet with the sort of chilly dampness that sinks into your bones and soul. It may be perfect for conjuring winter tales of darkness and phantoms, but I prefer to be relatively warm and simply embrace the illusion of fall and winter in this climate. It can still be Halloween spooky without the cold winds and the trembling and scattering of autumn leaves. It just takes a little more imagination... and extra decorations certainly helps with the ambiance.
Naturally, the biggest culprit is The Halloween Supply which is open for business in its usual spot. I take a walk-through to admire all the animatronic decorations that I don’t have a shot in hell of affording. Still, it’s fun, and by the time I’m done making a round through the store, I’ve finished my coffee and tossed the empty cup into the waste receptacle outside before heading to my true destination: the craft store. As expected, it’s crowded as fuck with other last-minute shoppers. Naturally, it takes me twice as long to navigate my cart through the aisles of seasonal decorations of plastic skeletons, ghoulish reapers, grinning pumpkins and various crafty holiday projects to snatch up my prizes from what’s left before finally adding my cart to the long line waiting for check out.
I hum softly to myself as the line slowly inches forward, my fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the cart’s handle.
I love Halloween. I just hate last minute shopping for it. But, every year, I still foolishly get sucked into the chaos, which is why I’m tapping my foot impatiently while I stand in line. The weekend rush is truly terrible this time of the year. From August, when the first of the Halloween items get put out in the stores, until January, when the remaining winter holiday decorations are put on clearance, every week feels like a mad rush of shoppers. And, of course, with tomorrow being Halloween weekend, shoppers are hitting the stores hard to take advantage of last-minute deals as they prepare for the spooky season festivities. Me included. Which begs the question, why, oh why, did I wait so long to get my decorations?
I give the meager offerings in my basket a disgruntled look as I consider my unfortunate fate to be stuck here for the next twenty minutes or so.
Every year I tell myself that I will get everything purchased within the first couple weeks of September at the latest, but I always seemed to procrastinate until the week before Halloween. Every damn year. This year is worse than ever because I literally waited until the eleventh hour. I’m fortunate that there was as much left as there was. Even with that, and the fact that I love this time of the year too much to want to abandon the hard-earned goodies in the basket of my cart, I consider just leaving.
My fingers tighten on the handle, and I give myself a little shake. No. No. That’s crazy talk. I can wait here. I’m a strong shopping warrior. My mother didn’t groom me through over a dozen black Friday events for me to run scared now. Compared to that, this is child’s play. I stare morosely at the cart in front of me, however, noting that they snagged the last two of this year’s coveted spooky kitty gargoyle garden statues that I had wanted for my porch. Well, nuts.
The line creeps forward slowly, inch by inch as customers unload and pay for their items and hurry away to whatever else is demanding their attention this weekend. I watch the customers gradually peel away, anticipation filling me that it will soon be my turn, and I light up just a little with relief as another cashier joins the ranks. Immediately, four people shuffle over to the register with their laden baskets, and I move forward a few inches. Sighing heavily, I loosely cross my arms over the handlebar and proceed to lean forward, shifting my weight off my tired feet and onto my wheeled companion in shopping.
Man, I can’t wait to get home. The first thing I’m going to do is change into my jack-o’-lantern pajamas and pick out my horror movie selection for the evening before plopping on the couch with a cozy blanket and my favorite cup of chaos in hand. That is to say the mound of sugary toppings of sprinkles, cinnamon, chocolate shavings, marshmallows, and dollop of whipped cream that went into creating my infamous goblin cocoa. It’s like a little piece of heaven on an otherwise exhausting day. The pumpkin spice latte gave me a bit of a pick me up, but its effects are waning fast. Like the craft store, Black Crow and Bell where I work has been experiencing a seasonal rush, keeping all of us busy. I work at the front of the shop most days because that’s what pays my bills, all except the two days a week that I do readings in the back room. It’s not a glamorous life but it satisfies my witchy soul and supplements the income I receive from various workings I’m hired for.
Perhaps I should play up witchy vibes tomorrow when I go in for my shift in the reading room. I can go all out in ways that are harder to do when behind the counter and needing to wear something a bit more practical and easier to move in. Splurge a little and have fun. Black skirt, ivory blouse with my favorite amulet brooch, deck out in my witchiest jewelry, and my black shawl crocheted to resemble numerous little skulls. I can use some of that dark purple sparkle polish on my nails that I recently received. It’s probably about time for a color change, anyway.
A frown tugs at my mouth as I absently glance down at my nails lifting one hand to critically inspect them. Damn. They need some help. Not only do my cuticles look rough, but the dry skin is crying out for some TLC. Of course, the polish is starting to chip something awful from the tips of my nails too from typing on the keys of the register. Polish never lasts as long as I would like it to. Good thing I’ve already got a plan in place. I’ll just take care of that before my cocoa. Maybe I’ll start with a bubble bath and follow up with giving my hands the full treatment. It’s going to delay my cocoa indulgence a little, but I think I can hold out long enough to see the necessities first. After the pumpkin carving, of course. Because... priorities.
A throat clears, startling me out of my thoughts, and my eyes shoot up with surprise to see the harried cashier smiling with a strained politeness as she waves me over. I feel heat crawling up my neck, aware of the fact that she probably called me, and I completely missed it in my wool gathering. I smile a tad sheepishly and push my cart over to her register, embarrassed but relieved that I’ll soon be out of here.
“Sorry about that,” I say with a feigned cheer as I begin to quickly unload my basket. “Line moved quicker than I expected.”
Her lips twist in an understanding smile in response as she begins to scan the plastic skulls, dark garlands, memento mori images that I plan to add to my collection splashed around my apartment, battery powered candles and the foam pumpkins that I definitely plan to carve. The grocery store is out of pumpkins, but it’s just as well. I pretty much gave up on the idea of carving real pumpkins after last year’s disaster. Turns out that, in the south, jack o’lanterns die fast, ignoble deaths on the front porch practically overnight. It wouldn’t matter much this year since I’ve literally waited to the last minute, but the lack of pumpkins at the grocery stores makes me determined to try something different. Surely a foam pumpkin with a battery produced flame is just as good as the real thing. Right?
“Big decorating plans tonight, I see,” the cashier observes conversationally.
“Oh, just adding to what I’ve already put up,” I laugh. Truthfully, I’ve had my decorations from last year out since the first of September. “I mostly came for the pumpkins,” I explain, nodding to them. “I’ll be carving them up while I watch the scary movies I picked out for tonight. Should work as well as the real thing, right?”
She gave them an absent look and shrugged. “Sure. It’s pumpkin shaped. A pumpkin is a pumpkin.”
My smile slips a little and I look down at the pumpkins worriedly. Perhaps I should rethink this, but even if I wanted to get a real pumpkin, it’s impossible. I will set the same spells and protections with the artificial candle. It will be fine.
“I just know they’ll be perfect,” I say as I hand over my debit card.
Just perfect ghoulish little faces to frighten away ghosts and goblins. And with the added bonus of being reusable next year, I see no downside to this at all. What could possibly go wrong?
