King of Locusts | ✔

The Priestess & The Wizard Part 1

[Bonus chapter]

"Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." — St. Matthew 26:41

"Let us close this sermon with the words of David: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me," Pastor Evans said during the benediction. "We live in perilous times and are surrounded by synagogues of evil."

Are we really, though? thought Michelle Blake as she covered her yawn with a pale hand.

Contrary to her minister's anxious parting words, her congregation was in the majority Christian town of Stony Brook, Massachusetts. Although a sizable pagan population lived in Winfair, the next town over, they were still a minority. Despite that, Michelle's pastor and her fellow churchgoers acted as if they were the troubled Church of Philadelphia. She would often roll her eyes at their needless victimization.

In spite of growing up in the same town for sixteen years, Michelle wasn't completely ignorant of the outside world; the Internet often poked holes in her religious bubble. She never went to places like Winfar due to her family's hatred of heretics. However, the forbidden mystery surrounding nonbelievers piqued her intrigue from a young age. She couldn't help but take interest in those people, especially the ones aware of the fiery punishment awaiting them in the afterlife. To Michelle, their refusal to worship God was fascinatingly bizarre.

The reason for Pastor Evans's particularly dramatic speech was Halloween's approach. On Halloween night, Winfair received many tourists due to their annual festival. Michelle long wanted to attend the event, and after a year's planning, she would finally see it through.

Halloween came before she knew it. Michelle had faked sickness since Sunday's sermon, knowing that it would upset her germophobic mother. With her father focused on helping his wife through her anxiety, Michelle was free to plot.

She smiled shyly at her reflection. In her need to avoid detection at all costs, Michelle dressed like her polar opposite that night. A skater skirt replaced her usual knee-length ones, which she paired with tall boots. An amethyst pendant hung over her oversized hooded sweatshirt.

I look so witchy, she thought with a giggle.

Unbeknownst to her peers, Michelle dabbled into some less than holy practices. Over the past few years, she learned about astrology, tarot, and developed a modest crystal collection. It was all harmless, she reasoned. It took belief and intention for magic to work, after all. Although she swore to herself that these hobbies were childish nonsense, she took comfort in sewing pockets into her clothes to hold a protective stone or two.

Michelle opened her bedroom window and secured one end of a rope to her bedpost. She descended the side of her house until she was roughly ten feet from the ground. She jumped and braced for impact as she landed on the manicured grass of her backyard. She winced from the discomfort, but was otherwise fine. Excitement brewed in her chest as she walked to the nearest bus stop.

The festival was already in full swing when Michelle arrived. Lanterns lit the streets with an eerie glow only rivaled by the bright moon. Performers of all kinds displayed their skills with gusto. Fire-eaters and tricksters in elaborate costumes awed people through their sensual deception. They amassed large crowds and their tip hats overflowed.

However, their skills paled in comparison to the actual witches present. Michelle's jaw dropped as she watched them show their abilities without restraint. She saw a blond in a dark green cloak make sparks dance off the edge of his wand. At another booth were a pair of twins levitating objects of various sizes.