“And here’s your broom and witch hat. We’ll be waiting for you in the hall once you’re finished.” She closed the door, leaving me in the illuminated closet and left with the same lack of ceremony as she spoke.
I had already wondered why I was here several times. Standing naked in the closet with a cracking wood handle broom and much abused hat only prompted me to finally say the question out loud.
“You’re supposed to put the hat on and ride the broom! That’s what!” The voice on the other side of the door was tired of saying the bloody obvious. It was her turn to question life choices as she stomped away from her duty, muttering profusely about how no one wants to confront a mystery and everyone wants answers without the work.
Ride the broom, eh? The wood was old and abused. Polished only by decades of hand gripping, it had a rougher texture than my own working hands. I knew what she meant, but I don’t think she understood the significance of what she meant. There was no damn way that wood was going near any of my mucus membranes.
The hat had been ripped and resown many times. The hat I could better understand. A neophyte’s hat. I would “earn” a better one if I continued with the coven.
First I have to accept the one given.
I figured this was what would happen, so I had snuck in a box of clothes before everything got started. I dressed and left the closet.
I found the coven leader’s mother first. She eyed the broom warily before moving to take it. “No, I didn’t. Because no.” She laughed and willfully took it and the hat from me.
“Don’t mind Sally. She’s trying so hard to be part of something. But I don’t think she’s really looked up what she’s trying to be.”
“She complained that people wanted answers without the work. She wants the mystery without the sacrifice. She has all the trappings but none of the understanding of why this or why that. She wants the result without paying the price.”
“I hoped Susan would just talk to you. I didn’t think she would insist you join her game before she would even see you as an equal.”
I started to remark that it wasn’t a game to her, that the young woman was caught up in the thrill of being special when I caught the shift. “Susan? I thought her name was Sally.”
The matron smiled. “Yea, well, this is a dream after all. And you know how things are in a dream.”
Fuck. Why didn’t I catch that sooner. I could have skipped being locked naked in a closet with a splintering masturbatory aid. “Yea. I know. Well, that settles it. She’s on her own. I’m out. Good night.”
“Good morning.”
And I woke up.