Tuesday Tales: From a Picture

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, based on a picture. These scenes are limited to 300 words, short but sweet and still complete. I’m continuing with Pumpkin Spice.

Here’s the image I selected.

“One of the sisters told me you’d arrived.” She pushed me back, holding me by the shoulders as she continued to study me. “I’ve been waiting for you. The others are sitting in the shade by the water, sipping iced tea, meditating, and sending Selma spiritual energy.”

Wicca, a nature-based religion founded in the twentieth century by Gerald Gardner with Mother Earth and Father Sky as their primary gods, tended to worship in small groups called covens. They practiced magic and used universal energy to effect positive changes around them. Most covens were small, but Aunt Selma’s had always been a larger one comprised of forty people, both male and female. I’d avoided being around them when I’d lived there—why, I wasn’t quite sure—but it was good to know that so many were concerned about her well-being. Given her age, she could use all the prayers she could get. I might not believe in their energies and powers, but I respected them. No doubt those had been the dark shadows I’d noticed earlier.

“Elvira and Suzie are still at the cottage. As soon as they finish for the day, they’ll join us. They’ll be happy to see you.” She smiled. “Little Anca, all grown up. Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

Couldn’t she lose the “little” adjective? These kids were little, not me. At five-eight, I was average, if not tall, for a woman.

“Seamus, stop that.” Instead of indicating one of the children, she reached down to pick up the cat twisting itself around her legs. Seamus was a beautiful tortoiseshell Manx, the tailless cat that had originated on the Isle of Man in the Irish Sea. If the cat was Seamus, who were Snap, Crackle, and Pop? I eyed the children. No. It couldn’t be, but then again, Walt loved nicknames.

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales