Post by anonymous on Sept 28, 2012 19:49:07 GMT -5
Title: A Witch's Help
Rating: T
Warnings: minimal gore (not sure if just a brief explanation qualifies, but just to be safe]
Word Count: 1,407
I sat in the front garden of our house. Leaning back on the bench I stared out over the rolling hills of Chipenden. The sky was blue as ever, well, at least for the county. I could hear the wind rustling the wood just a few yards ahead of the gate. I lived with my master, Thomas Ward, in the county as a spook’s apprentice.
In the county, since 1670, spooks were hired to ward of anything that would send chills down your spine, the sort of creatures that caused your hair to stand on end, keep away the sounds that go bump in the night.
I was just entering my second year of apprenticeship, but after I would complete five years’ worth of apprentice work I would be a real spook. No longer working at my master’s side. Finally able to work alone, and decide for myself.
Not that I minded working with my master. He was a kind man, strict sometimes, but never cruel. It would just be nice to be able to do some work on my own for once.
I heard the front door squeak open and then close as my master exited the house to begin my lesson for the day.
“Alright lad, get out your notebook and lets begin.” Mr. Ward strode towards the bench I was sitting on. He had a dark beard with few grey hairs and the hair atop his head wasn’t much different. He stood a good four inches taller than me putting him at six foot two inches. “Make haste, Harry, we haven’t got all day, you've still your physical training today.”
Quickly, I fumbled for the notebook, pen, and inkwell beside me on the bench. I opened the notebook to the first blank page and perched my pen, full of ink, on the page ready to write on command.
“Today’s lesson is going to be about witches, and how we can defeat them.” He spoke, I wrote 'Witches' as my headline and awaited further instruction. “Witches can be killed in numerous ways,” He continued, “but, there are only three ways to make sure a witch cannot return from the dead in any way, shape, or form. Those three ways are: to burn her body. To eat her heart while it’s raw. Or, to pierce her heart with a silver blade and leave it there. The last one, however the most humane, only works if three silver nails are hammered into her forehead, her throat and her chest. Once any of these actions are done, the witch can no longer come back to haunt you, as a dead witch or not. Although, as you may know, I prefer to keep pits with witches, but if the crimes she has committed earn her it I would burn her.”
I wrote as neatly as possible and rushed to catch up with him. He was about to continue when a bell tolled in the distance. It wasn't the church bell, this bell was a higher pitch meaning that it was someone down the hill that needed to speak about spook's business. Patrons can’t come up to the house, as the spook’s boggart, our security of the house, would tear any stranger to shreds if they entered the gardens unwelcome.
“You wait here. I’ll go see what they need,stay put.” He made for the gate and went off down the hill to tend to the business.
Blowing on the ink in an effort to make it dry quicker, I looked over the hills that cascaded around the house again. For such a dreary job the scenery sure is nice.
About ten minutes passed and I heard Mr. Ward open the gate and walk through. I hastily sat up, ready to take more notes.
He looked over to me and smiled sideways, “No need to look busy now, lad. I’ve got urgent business to attend to. I’ll be back in about two days’ time if all goes well. I expect you to keep up with your physical training while I’m gone, and read up on witches in my library. Got that?” He said and I followed him through the house as he packed some county cheese to eat and put on his cloak.
“I’ll see you in a few days, lad.”
“But Sir, couldn’t I come with you? Isn’t it necessary for my training?” I asked.
“It’s nothing you’ve never seen before, just a boggart that needs to be shut in a pit. Should’ve seen the woman down there,” He motioned down the hill towards the bell, “Hysterical. Convinced her whole family was sentenced to die. No worried though, it’s just a hall knocker. I’ll see you in two days. Remember what I said, and don’t go wandering off by yourself.”
With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his staff, and walked out the front gate and down the hill.
I closed the front door to the house. Alone here for two days. Leaving me alone was something my master rarely did, but he was right in that the hall knocker was nothing I’d never seen before.
A hall knocker is a boggart that likes to cause innocent people trouble. Mainly they just knocked on the walls of houses and drove the family insane. Nothing more than a nuisance, but hall knockers could easily turn into chuckers, who would throw large rocks at the house and have been known to kill people. So it was important that the business was attended to as soon as possible.
Not really wanting to read through the Spook’s library at that moment, I sat down in the parlor where our boggart had lit a fire that morning. Comfortable, I shut my eyes and drifted, slowly, to sleep.
The next day, I was sitting in the library reading through a passage on witches.
“Once dead, a witch could walk the earth again as a dead witch or transform herself into a liquid form that could squeeze through the smallest of openings. The latter also would allow her to take control over another human being. Witches could be contained by being stuck in a pit with thirteen strong, iron bars over the top of the opening. Dead witches are easily contained by being buried upside down, their heads in the ground first.”
I was exhausted by my day’s work. Along with reading, I had practiced throwing my silver chain around the wooden post in the western garden. Denizens of the dark, such as witches and boggarts and others, are greatly weakened by silver. Coming in contact with the metal renders them helpless and places them into unimaginable, physical pain.
After placing the book on the shelf I picked up my candle and walked to my room, ready to turn in for the night.
Two more days had past and my master hadn’t returned yet. I figured he was just held up with some minor issues, perhaps the weather, where ever he was, wasn’t good for travelling and I went on with my training and learning.
After two more days, though, I was getting very anxious. What if he had been hurt? Or lost?
My mind strayed, what if he had been taken hostage by the Quisitor? The Quisitor was a relatively powerful authority figure in the county. He had a reputation for capturing witches and warlocks to burn at the stake. In our line of work, dealing with such people, we were, in his eyes, no better than the witches or warlocks.
Although, I didn’t believe that the Quisitor was anywhere near here. Usually he stayed in his manor house up north for most of the year, travelling down south only near winter. It was summer then, no reason for him to be about, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
There was also the threat of witches. Years ago, when my master was just an apprentice himself, he had employed the help of a witch assassin and his best friend, Alice, who was also a witch, to help him defeat his greatest enemy, the Devil himself. The other witches were devastated and sought revenge on him for diminishing their hard work. It had taken them years to finally summon the Devil, or The Fiend as they called him, into this world.
I quickly brushed the thoughts from my mind and went out to the western garden to practice with my chain some more.
Rating: T
Warnings: minimal gore (not sure if just a brief explanation qualifies, but just to be safe]
Word Count: 1,407
I sat in the front garden of our house. Leaning back on the bench I stared out over the rolling hills of Chipenden. The sky was blue as ever, well, at least for the county. I could hear the wind rustling the wood just a few yards ahead of the gate. I lived with my master, Thomas Ward, in the county as a spook’s apprentice.
In the county, since 1670, spooks were hired to ward of anything that would send chills down your spine, the sort of creatures that caused your hair to stand on end, keep away the sounds that go bump in the night.
I was just entering my second year of apprenticeship, but after I would complete five years’ worth of apprentice work I would be a real spook. No longer working at my master’s side. Finally able to work alone, and decide for myself.
Not that I minded working with my master. He was a kind man, strict sometimes, but never cruel. It would just be nice to be able to do some work on my own for once.
I heard the front door squeak open and then close as my master exited the house to begin my lesson for the day.
“Alright lad, get out your notebook and lets begin.” Mr. Ward strode towards the bench I was sitting on. He had a dark beard with few grey hairs and the hair atop his head wasn’t much different. He stood a good four inches taller than me putting him at six foot two inches. “Make haste, Harry, we haven’t got all day, you've still your physical training today.”
Quickly, I fumbled for the notebook, pen, and inkwell beside me on the bench. I opened the notebook to the first blank page and perched my pen, full of ink, on the page ready to write on command.
“Today’s lesson is going to be about witches, and how we can defeat them.” He spoke, I wrote 'Witches' as my headline and awaited further instruction. “Witches can be killed in numerous ways,” He continued, “but, there are only three ways to make sure a witch cannot return from the dead in any way, shape, or form. Those three ways are: to burn her body. To eat her heart while it’s raw. Or, to pierce her heart with a silver blade and leave it there. The last one, however the most humane, only works if three silver nails are hammered into her forehead, her throat and her chest. Once any of these actions are done, the witch can no longer come back to haunt you, as a dead witch or not. Although, as you may know, I prefer to keep pits with witches, but if the crimes she has committed earn her it I would burn her.”
I wrote as neatly as possible and rushed to catch up with him. He was about to continue when a bell tolled in the distance. It wasn't the church bell, this bell was a higher pitch meaning that it was someone down the hill that needed to speak about spook's business. Patrons can’t come up to the house, as the spook’s boggart, our security of the house, would tear any stranger to shreds if they entered the gardens unwelcome.
“You wait here. I’ll go see what they need,stay put.” He made for the gate and went off down the hill to tend to the business.
Blowing on the ink in an effort to make it dry quicker, I looked over the hills that cascaded around the house again. For such a dreary job the scenery sure is nice.
About ten minutes passed and I heard Mr. Ward open the gate and walk through. I hastily sat up, ready to take more notes.
He looked over to me and smiled sideways, “No need to look busy now, lad. I’ve got urgent business to attend to. I’ll be back in about two days’ time if all goes well. I expect you to keep up with your physical training while I’m gone, and read up on witches in my library. Got that?” He said and I followed him through the house as he packed some county cheese to eat and put on his cloak.
“I’ll see you in a few days, lad.”
“But Sir, couldn’t I come with you? Isn’t it necessary for my training?” I asked.
“It’s nothing you’ve never seen before, just a boggart that needs to be shut in a pit. Should’ve seen the woman down there,” He motioned down the hill towards the bell, “Hysterical. Convinced her whole family was sentenced to die. No worried though, it’s just a hall knocker. I’ll see you in two days. Remember what I said, and don’t go wandering off by yourself.”
With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his staff, and walked out the front gate and down the hill.
I closed the front door to the house. Alone here for two days. Leaving me alone was something my master rarely did, but he was right in that the hall knocker was nothing I’d never seen before.
A hall knocker is a boggart that likes to cause innocent people trouble. Mainly they just knocked on the walls of houses and drove the family insane. Nothing more than a nuisance, but hall knockers could easily turn into chuckers, who would throw large rocks at the house and have been known to kill people. So it was important that the business was attended to as soon as possible.
Not really wanting to read through the Spook’s library at that moment, I sat down in the parlor where our boggart had lit a fire that morning. Comfortable, I shut my eyes and drifted, slowly, to sleep.
The next day, I was sitting in the library reading through a passage on witches.
“Once dead, a witch could walk the earth again as a dead witch or transform herself into a liquid form that could squeeze through the smallest of openings. The latter also would allow her to take control over another human being. Witches could be contained by being stuck in a pit with thirteen strong, iron bars over the top of the opening. Dead witches are easily contained by being buried upside down, their heads in the ground first.”
I was exhausted by my day’s work. Along with reading, I had practiced throwing my silver chain around the wooden post in the western garden. Denizens of the dark, such as witches and boggarts and others, are greatly weakened by silver. Coming in contact with the metal renders them helpless and places them into unimaginable, physical pain.
After placing the book on the shelf I picked up my candle and walked to my room, ready to turn in for the night.
Two more days had past and my master hadn’t returned yet. I figured he was just held up with some minor issues, perhaps the weather, where ever he was, wasn’t good for travelling and I went on with my training and learning.
After two more days, though, I was getting very anxious. What if he had been hurt? Or lost?
My mind strayed, what if he had been taken hostage by the Quisitor? The Quisitor was a relatively powerful authority figure in the county. He had a reputation for capturing witches and warlocks to burn at the stake. In our line of work, dealing with such people, we were, in his eyes, no better than the witches or warlocks.
Although, I didn’t believe that the Quisitor was anywhere near here. Usually he stayed in his manor house up north for most of the year, travelling down south only near winter. It was summer then, no reason for him to be about, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
There was also the threat of witches. Years ago, when my master was just an apprentice himself, he had employed the help of a witch assassin and his best friend, Alice, who was also a witch, to help him defeat his greatest enemy, the Devil himself. The other witches were devastated and sought revenge on him for diminishing their hard work. It had taken them years to finally summon the Devil, or The Fiend as they called him, into this world.
I quickly brushed the thoughts from my mind and went out to the western garden to practice with my chain some more.
