tagSci-Fi & FantasySecret of Witchcraft Ch. 01

Secret of Witchcraft Ch. 01


~~~~~ Chapter 1 ~~~~~

I'm going to tell you the secret of witchcraft. You won't believe me anyway. That's the way witchcraft works. There's always a logical explanation. I asked for snow in the sweltering summer, and some expert talked about a thermal inversion producing small granule hail. I can't prove it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't asked for it. Go ahead and think I'm delusional. I believe in coincidence, but I experience it so often that I call it witchcraft.

To make my claims even more problematic, I don't always get what I ask for when I ask for it. If you tried to test me, it would be just my luck to have one of those days when coincidences avoid me. I don't hide my gift, but I've given up trying to convince people. I'm telling my story because I'd like to meet another witch. I can't be the only one. I assume the other witches have asked not to be found.

In school, we read a short story called "The Monkey's Paw". A man received a talisman that would grant three wishes. He wished for money to pay off his house, and shortly later, his son was killed in an accident. The settlement for his son's death was exactly the amount of money needed to pay off the house. His wife wished for the son to come back to live at home, but the son was horribly mangled and had been buried for a week. The man used the last wish for his son to be dead and in his grave. The moral of the story was that fate rules people's lives, and that those who interfere will be sorry.

I tried to be very careful after that. I didn't seem to cause any sorrow when I asked for things, but I keep the worry in the back of my mind. I specifically didn't ask for money. There was no reason. I had everything I wanted that money could buy. My father once said the secret to happiness was not wanting too much. It worked for him.

As a young child, the other kids played together at recess, but I walked alone around the playground content with my imagination. I never felt lonely. When I got a little older, nature worked her magic on me. By the time I turned fourteen and started high school, I craved a steady companion.

I asked for someone I didn't already know to love me above all others. I asked that way because I didn't want to mess up my parents. A week later, Lloyd came into my life. He wasn't what I expected, but he certainly loved me once I fed him from the table. We became inseparable. He had a magic of his own, too. I'd see him watching me from the pasture by the high school and yet, somehow, he'd be at the end of the lane when I got home after a six mile ride on the school bus.

Lloyd served as my faithful companion for several years. I told him my fears and dreams. He comforted me whenever I suffered a blue moment. He slept in my bed to keep me warm on winter nights. In most respects, he served me so well that I didn't miss the man I half expected when I asked for love. I couldn't truly return Lloyd's love though. I should have asked for a relationship of equals. Witchcraft can be tricky that way.

Lloyd was already old when he came to me. We went exploring up the mountain one day, and he never came back down. He lay to rest on a mossy patch, closed his eyes, and was gone. I think I saw his life slip away. I buried him under the moss he chose for his bed. I still talk to him sometimes when a fear or dream needs to be heard. He never did answer me, so nothing has really changed in that regard.

I started masturbating about the same time I started casting spells. It could be coincidence. I played with myself while asking whatever agency grants my wishes to share my pleasure. One good turn deserves another. Maybe the secret to avoiding monkey paw style sorrow was to ask in the throes of orgasm. I shared a lot of pleasure many times.

I used to watch reruns of a TV show where a witch wiggled her nose to cast spells. I find wiggling my clitoris to be much more effective. It means I have to be more discreet than the TV witch, but I have more fun.

When I was nineteen and everybody I knew from school was getting married or pregnant or both, I asked to go to college. Nobody in my family had ever been to one. I daydreamed through school, and they only let me graduate because I asked for it. I didn't have any money to pay for college either. Going to college was going to require some sweet witchcraft. I dedicated the better part of every day to it.

Nothing obvious other than chafing happened as the summer stretched. I didn't know anything about colleges, so one was as good as another. I didn't know what to ask. I decided to try taking things step by step. I sat on my hand and rocked to grind out a modest orgasm while asking for a way to get to college.

The next day, my old English teacher stopped me on the sidewalk. "Good morning Gwendolyn," she said. "I'm glad I bumped into you. Do you have any plans this weekend?"

"No, ma'am," I said. "Why do you ask?"

"My daughter, Ashely, and her friend planned a trip to Cincinnati for a church youth retreat this weekend, but her friend just backed out. Would you mind going with Ashely so she's not alone on the bus?"

I thought the teacher might be trying to convert me, but it was possible the only other church girl from town backed out at the last minute. I understood why a parent wouldn't want a teenager riding alone cross country on a bus, so I accepted the offered ticket.

My legs wobbled in my sandals as I climbed aboard the Greyhound. I had never been out of the county, and I was about to travel more than 200 miles. I wore a short yellow sundress to keep cool only to find out the bus had air conditioning. I shivered with goose flesh in the unaccustomed cold.

Ashely sat across the aisle looking out the window with headphones on. A group of Future Farmers of America sat in front and planned to get off at Charleston based on their conversation with each other. A soldier slept several rows behind me. I enjoyed relative privacy as long as Ashely didn't look my direction.

The front of my dress hiked up to my waist to expose the nylon panties I regretted wearing. I slid them down to my knees being carful to smooth out my dress under me so my bare skin wouldn't touch the seat. I worked up a little orgasm asking not to be observed. As I concentrated on the second and bigger one, I asked to be comfortable for the remainder of the trip.

The bus stopped in Charleston a few minutes after I withdrew my slippery finger. The driver opened the luggage compartment to retrieve the FFA passengers' luggage. I requested my bag, and the driver said it was against policy to remove a tagged item before its destination, but he gave it to me anyway. I dug out a sweatshirt I didn't remember packing and a pair of jeans.

The rest of the ride went pleasantly well. I probably looked odd wearing jeans under my dress and a sweatshirt over it. Ashley frowned but didn't comment. A man with a guitar got on the bus at Portsmouth along the Ohio river. He played an old mountain song my mother used to hum. Everyone including the driver clapped when the song ended.

He put the guitar away and asked, "Miss, do you mind if I draw you? I need something to keep my hands busy, but I've already played every tune I know."

"I don't mind," I said and moved over to the aisle seat closer to him.

He rearranged himself a row ahead of me on the other side of the aisle. He found a pad and a funny looking thick pencil in a big pocket on the outside of the guitar case.

"Come a little closer," he suggested, "and, stretch your legs out toward me." When I complied, he added, "Now tip your head back and look to the side."

Nobody ever drew me before. My art education ended with finger paints. Drawing seemed to take forever, so I tried to open a conversation. I asked him where he was headed.

"I'm getting off in Cincinnati," he said. "I'm teaching for a year as a visiting artist."

"Where will you teach?" I pictured him in an elementary school.

"It's a place called Art Academy of Cincinnati."

I absentmindedly scratched my nose and smelled a coincidence. "Is it a college? What's it like?"

"It's a small private college with only 200 students, but it has a great reputation. They're giving me a studio and paying me to draw as if I wouldn't do it for free." He grinned.

It sounded like a manageable number of students to me. One of my fears was getting lost in the kind of crowds I'd seen at college football games on TV.

"I'm Gwendolyn," I said while extending my hand.

"Calder," he replied. He shook just my fingers instead of my whole hand.

I little while later, he asked, "would you like to see?" He seemed proud of himself.

The picture he drew didn't look much like me. I could kind of see my legs and the dress. My whole head was a mess of lines.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"It's very good," I lied. I wondered if he fibbed about teaching at a college or if the standards were that low.

Cincinnati blew my mind as we drove into the downtown. I'd never seen anything like it except on TV. Ashley had been there before and knew the way from the bus station. The church could have swallowed the courthouse back home, and an even bigger church calling itself a cathedral sat across the street.

Once inside, Ashley watched my bag while I went to the ladies room. I took off the sweatshirt and jeans. As long as I had a little privacy, I asked to be excused from sitting through all the church meetings. The orgasm refreshed me even though I had to be subdued because someone entered the adjacent stall.

When I returned to the lobby, I signed into the attendee log filling out name, address, emergency contact, and age. The old woman guarding the log said, "You shouldn't have come to this retreat, dear. It's for under eighteen only."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Is there anything I can do now? It's Friday night. I don't think I can get a bus home. I don't have anyplace else to stay, and I don't have any money."

The old lady consulted a pastor, and they decided to let me sleep in one of the unused meeting rooms. I had a comfy couch. The younger girls slept on the floor of a gymnasium in the school attached to the church. Of course, I wasn't aloud to attend any of the meetings.

With nothing to do on a Saturday morning, I decided to find the Art Academy of Cincinnati and see what a college looked like up close. I didn't have to walk far. The college was just a couple of big old buildings with a glass covered room called the "atrium" sandwiched between them.

All the doors I tried were locked. Some people slid cards through slots to get inside, but I didn't have a card. I looked in some windows and walked around the block. I was about to go back to the church when Calder called my name.

"Come on in," he said. "I'll buy you a Pepsi."

We sat at a table in the middle of the bustle of students coming and going.

"It's move-in day," Calder said. "The upperclassmen are finding their studios and getting things set up."

"What does this place teach besides drawing?" I asked.

"There's design, photography, painting, sculpture, art history, and more. There's a Masters of Art Education program, too."

"I kind of know what drawing, painting, and history are." I smiled.

Calder laughed and invited me on a tour. "This is my studio," he said and gestured into an open door facing a floor to ceiling window. "It has good light."

I nodded, and Calder walked further down a corridor lined with similar studios. Students hurried around us, and several studios were already in use. One gal had hair so short I could see muscles moving in her scalp while she chewed gum. She wore a sports bra and shorts and was still covered in sweat. There was an older bald man with an old-fashion handlebar mustache big enough to make a wig.

"How much does it cost to go to school here?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's around thirty thousand if you count living here."

I studied my hands. That was more money than my dad earned in a year. The place started to get a hold on me, though. I liked to think all the weird people swarming around could teach me a thing or two. They were so intense and passionate about whatever they did. A couple with matching short hair looked almost as passionate as me with my witchcraft.

"What would I have to do to go to school here?" I asked.

"I assume students submit a portfolio, high school transcripts, and that kind of thing. That's the way it was where I went to school."

"What's a portfolio?"

Calder ended the tour back at his studio and said, "Students collect their best work for a few years and put it in a portfolio so they can show other people. Sometimes, they just take pictures to show."

I bent over to look at some of Calder's drawings where they lay stacked against a wall. Most were crazy spaghetti like the one from the bus. I thought it wouldn't be too difficult to do that. I sat on the floor next to the window and pulled my knees up to my chin. I looked down onto the street. Calder's studio provided a good view. I knocked on the glass, but none of the busy people on the sidewalk looked up.

Calder's hands moved in a blur wiping chalk on paper and raising a multicolored dust cloud. I didn't mind. I closed my eyes to imagine what it would be like to go to school at the college. As I searched my feelings, Calder flipped a page and started another drawing. When he paused for a moment, I pulled my sweaty t-shirt over my head to mimic the girl down the hall. I didn't have a sports bra, but my half camisole gave me about as much modesty.

I felt much more comfortable and stretched out my legs. It seemed to inspire Calder. Without thinking, I rolled my t-shirt into a tight knot and tossed it from hand to hand. After a while, I stuffed the ball between my thighs and crossed my legs. Visions of making a portfolio danced behind my closed eyelids. I wasn't conscious of rocking and clenching until the little orgasm became almost inevitable.

Calder stared at me with an inscrutable expression. I flashed a half smile and asked, "Can I try drawing with your chalk?"

He walked over and handed down his pad and as many pieces of chalk as he held in one hand. He looked into my lap where my thighs had parted and the t-shirt ball could be seen nestled between the loose legs of my shorts. I felt a tingle.

I used green and brown to draw the scene outside. I tried not to think too hard about it and made wild gestures like Calder. I closed my eyes part of the time because seeing my scribbles made me feel silly. I only spent a few minutes before I handed the pad back. I didn't look very hard at my creation.

Calder walked back to his chair without looking up from my drawing. He sat hard almost tipping over. "Have you been teasing me?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"This is really good. Are you a student here?"

"No. Could I be?"

"Let's find out. Are you willing to draw another one?"

"I guess so."

Calder walked to me and offered a hand up. When I accepted, he kept his grip and pulled me out of the room by my hand. He took me to another studio and knocked on the closed door.

"Dr. Henri, do you have a moment?"

The door swung wide, and an old man's eyes focused on my breasts before looking up to Calder. "What can I do for you?" the old rake asked.

Calder turned to me with intensity and said, "Gwendolyn, this man is President of the Academy."

I smiled for a half second.

"Dr. Henri, I met Gwendolyn on the bus yesterday. She's interested in studying here. I want you to see something."

Calder showed my drawing of the street and asked me to do it again. I begged for some more colors, and while Calder ran back to his studio to fetch the chalk, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

My reflection in the full length mirror smirked at me. Drawing came easier than I thought. Just to be sure, I slid off my shorts and panties to stand bottomless in just my sandals and half camisole. My fingers slipped easily between my damp folds. I seldom masturbated standing up, but I liked seeing myself in the mirror. I used a spell I called the pinch to tease myself by tugging on the hood over my clitoris.

Sweat soaked my camisole by the time I came. Its thin white material let some of the flesh tone of my areola show through. My nipples stood out, and they probably had since I took off my shirt. I wiped myself mostly dry and washed up splashing cold water on my face. My shorts and panties felt clammy when I readied myself.

"What sort of training have you had?" Dr. Henri asked when I returned.

I contemplated the big sheet of paper Calder provided before answering. "I had art class in grade school."

"Do you go to school now?"

"No sir," I answered. "I graduated from high school last year."

"Show him what you can do," Calder nagged.

I rolled my eyes and selected some chalk at random. I looked around the room for something interesting to draw and decided to use Dr. Henri since he was staring at my boobs anyway. My arms flailed in an exaggerated version of Calder's technique. I closed my eyes again. It took longer to fill the large sheet of paper than Calder's pad, but it still only took few minutes.

When I squinted at my creation, I recognized a hint of Dr. Henri's face along with his pose and body language. I captured the pattern on the vase behind him though. I was proud of that part.

"It's a kind of performance art," Dr. Henri mused. He scratched his chin and looked closely at my multicolored mess. "Remarkable."

I looked back and forth between the men. Silence stretched. I feared the answer, but I asked anyway. "Can I go to school here?"

"We'll have to see," Dr. Henri replied and shook his head in a way I interpreted as a negative answer. "Remarkable."

Calder walked me past an office on the ground floor where he collected a pile of forms and brochures. He bought me a meal from a sandwich shop down the street. While I ate, he wrote a list of things I needed to send from home. "Do it first thing on Monday," he insisted. "The semester's about to start, and I want you here when it does."

He flattered me, and I beamed a smile back at him. We must have seemed like an odd pair. My wrinkled t-shirt looked like I fished it from the trash. Smudges of chalk covered my face. Calder's hair lay matted as if he slept on it because he brushed it back so many times and even squeezed his head between his hands while I drew.

I didn't say anything to Ashley about the Art Academy. The bus was crowded on the Sunday afternoon return trip, so Ashley and I sat next to each other. I got bored and asked Ashely about the retreat. She babbled about the spirit in her and a rededication to her mission. None of it made much sense to me. I plotted the next spell to cast.

It only took two orgasms to get the applications sorted. I used the first to ask for my dad to find my Social Security card that nobody had seen in years. I felt bad for the other one. I went to the library to use their Internet and reenter all the information from the forms into the on-line equivalents. It took longer than I expected. The library usually closed at 6 p.m. on Mondays. About an hour before closing, I slipped into the ladies room and asked for more time. The head librarian told me I could stay and finish because she planned to stay late herself. I hope my spell didn't keep her from her family or anything important.

I waited with impatience building until Dr. Henri called a few days later. He said, "Gwendolyn, I'm sorry we can't offer you a scholarship this semester. You've missed all the deadlines set by the bank we use to handle financial aid."

My heart sank. I should have asked for finical aid specifically. Dr. Henri continued, "What I can do is offer you a job. Would you like to work in the Student Services office? It doesn't pay much, but you could get an apartment nearby and sit in on some classes until the next semester starts. By then, we should be able to offer tuition assistance."

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