Those Hillbilly basement WitchesWe were basically outcasts, the four of us. The giddy seductress, obsessed with her many ecclectic sexual escapades, The sarcastic comedian, her head a mass of tumbling, trailing, auburn curls, the sweetly rounded, kind eyed, cheerful, spiritual seeker, the wise old crone, eternally unsatisfied sexually, but, perpetually trying. We snuck out after midnight regularly, on full moons, and blue moons, after the rest of the world was sleeping. We playfully called ourselves hillbilly kitchen witches, we even made our own robes and began wearing them to our gatherings. We made two robes each, from simple patterns with a hole for the head and arms, with flowing bell sleeves, one black cotton one and one white lace one for each of us, depending on variable factors, our feet were always bare, summer and winter, we told secrets all night long as we brewed luxurious pots of flavored teas, one more exotic that the last. ,We baked and ate large golden round loaves of sweet breads made with real fruit and real sugar that we tore with warm sticky fingers and ate ravenously, with no care for calories.
We cast a few well thought out spellls on most nights, depending on the needs, love, sex, creativity, money, you name it, there was always something on our agenda. We had one rigid rule, no discussing the outcome of the spells, ever. So, we never did.
As we talked, we laughed, cackling like four scratching hens happily caught up in the joy of our togetherness.
One night we were out for revenge for one of our circle had been betrayed by her lover, her heart was broken, we had to act, we had to help our sister witch get revenge on this beastly man. As instructed, she brought along his "used" unwashed underwear. We passed the underwear through our patcholi dusted fingers, twisting and wringing the fabric tighter and tighter passing it around the circle five full passes, wringing and turning until the underwear was as tight as a rope, we had a reason for passing it five times, but, I won't tell that part. Then, we all went out to the scorned woman's vehicle, got in, quietly driving to her home where her lover was sleeping inside. Carefully, we tiptoed barefoot across her lawn, slipping quietly into the garage where we found four shovels leaning "in wait" against a back wall. Each of us grabbed a shovel and tiptoed out and around to the back of her house. The moon was high and silver in the black sky. We worked quietly, breaking ground beneath his bedroom window, we dug down several feet before she tossed the twisted underwear into the deep hole. We put our shovels down and locked hands and carefully walked backwards around the deep open hole five trips, before the betrayed one began filling the hole alone. Picking up our shovels, we walked away backwards, never turning our backs on the fresh turned earth. After putting the shovels away and slipping back into the car, we rode silently back to the gathering home and decended down into the candle lit ba
We never talked about the underwear or the hole or the cheating man again, not ever. Of course, we never discussed our spells once they were cast, we left that up to the universal energies that processed our moonlit pleas.
We knew that our friend had ended the failing relationship that next morning after the "spell" was cast but we never asked questions.
Years later, as I was grocery shopping one summer afternoon, I ran into a girl from my old high school in the check out line. I had never known this woman well, but, I remembered her as being the girl that the guys all said was "easiest" to get to home ba