The Deal

The Hex

The morning before Harry's fated party, the shop is vandalized.

I awake with the sun and its warmth brings me the energy I need to open the shop so that Nan doesn't have to. The stroll to downtown is peaceful, the town still sleeping peacefully in their beds as the birds greet the day and the leaves give me a round of applause in the wind.

Mother follows me all the way, though I don't even mind her presence. The warmth from my coffee shields me against the chill in my fingers and the sun shines against my back and lights the way.

Despite the ominous event that transpired the week before, I had woken up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

Until I turned the corner to the little alcove where our store sits.

The once pristine brick walls that line our small alley are covered in the goo of unfertilized eggs, the spiral staircase leading up to Nan's flat has been covered in wet toilet paper, and –most painful of all- the potted plants that line the windowsill have been knocked over.

The red door meant to keep out evil is spray-painted in giant black letters, "GO AWAY WITCH!" The shame of those words heats my cheeks and I nearly drop my mug in shock at the cruel sight.

What will take the most repair would be the whole in the window, presumably put there by a rock.

My eyes prick at the sight and I hope, more than anything else, that Nan's heavy sleeping came in handy and that she did not wake from the commotion. All her hard work... her passion... squandered by the ignorant.

Hate creeps towards my heart, but I try to push down all the rage and bitterness I feel towards the cowardly people in this town. Instead, I let pity take that place. How sad it must be for them to have such a small world, to live so in fear of things they do not –cannot- understand.

We must pity the willfully ignorant. For their worlds are much smaller than our own.

I let one silent and defiant tear slip down my flushed cheeks, but that is all the emotion I will allow these monsters to draw from me. Though we have endured many rumors, eggs thrown at our shop, and even passive letters shoved into our mailbox –this is the first time the townspeople have been so actively cruel. The first time they have vandalized our place of business.

My mother's weight grows heavier and I can't help but feel that she enjoys this drama. If she had it her way, this store would have never opened.

A calming and deep breath shudders my lungs before I set to work in cleaning the hatred off my shop's walkway. Before Nan can see it and let it sadden her heart, before the people of the town begin waking up and walking by just to cast malicious glances our way, silently thanking whichever evil soul did this to our store.

I push up the sheer peasant sleeves of my green chiffon, plunge neck dress, remove my tan suede hat, and my thigh-high tan suede boots to feel the cobblestone beneath my feet and set to work. It's a bad day not to be wearing pants.

By the time the sun has finished it's painting and the bell-tower at the church lets out an eerie chime, nearly two hours have passed. I have succeeded in clearing the stairs, hosing off the brick of any egg substance, and sweeping up the spilled soil and broken pots.

I am transferring the plants into temporary homes when the first few morning birds begin to trickle down the sidewalk.

I can feel their heavy gazes against my back as they take in the destruction. Most have the decency to pretend they aren't looking when I catch them, but there are a few who continue to stare, to even laugh when they read the words so cruelly written on our door.