As an older version sat beneath the moonlight,ures that human children grown and gone and long replaced by furry creat would remain at their Mistress' side, chirping and purring loving sounds of admiration that few people would understand but she did. Thoughts wandered to the quieter days, when future plans were replaced by memories of what was. Chaos became silence and crowded house became solitary rooms quieted by a lack of family around the dinner tble and she, who had filled large pots with meals, made a single potato and opesened cans of food, emptying them into dishes for which appreciation came in the form of warm furry snuggles and louder purrs.
She remembered loud music filling her home, some she liked, some she hated but all pounded through the rooms, way too loud for human (or animal) eardrums to normally stand. Now the music she heard often started a wetness in her eyes, ending in heavy sobs. She did not know why but accepted the emotion greatfully for any emotion was better than none at all and too frequently these days she wondered where that part of her had gone.
The Maiden hoped, the Mother dreamt and the Crone remembered and each part of tis woman made up a whole that had become Witch.
The Crone moved, painfully, favoring one limb, rembering a younger self who shooed children. Remembering a mate, poorly chose, who roared loudly. She remembered the moment when her neck cracked painfully as his usual anger filled the room and his too-large hand pushed her into a wall when she failed, as usuall, to move quickly enough to get out of the way.
Crone remembered how silently she bade the Goddess to protect her children from this vile beast. Silently she thought of the time when she thought of how a small potion, carefully crafted, could end their suffering forever. Legally wrong even if Karma would forgive her protective act. Rede's laws allowed protection of self and family though Man's laws were more particular about the manner of protection allowable.
Today mundane doctors told her that yesterday's poor choices had caused a degenerative ailment in her spine that no potion or spell could completely repair. Even with that she could not feel hatred for the man-beast for the choice had been hers albeit not a good one.
The mirror now told the story of a life lived harshly. where once her thick hair shone brighty as the mane of a proud pony, today gray scarred a thinner coif that straggled where most her age found finer do's. Wrinkles pinched at a skin that used to plump prettily and a pale pall fell over the formerly rosy hue.
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Yes, cats replaced children in a life no longer shared with a cruel mate for time had thankfully done a job that she could not. Vows to man's law would not permit even the taking of a life, even one as hateful as his. Time, however, was a kinder mistress and just when she thought he would surely kill her he had become painfully ill. She cared for him in his final days and the end had come more quickly than he deserved. When the final act had come, though her heart had grown cold to him, it was she who comforted him when he cried like a child from the pain.
No one questioned the black clothing she wore as they were befitting any who was in her situation. Even when time would have released her from the vestments of mournning she remained in black as any Witch who had passed her Croning. It became her badge of honour.
As time passed pain weakened her body but events strengthened her spirit. Where her children were concerned, both sadly male, free will had become her harshest foe. As she watched, unable to intervene,both her sons had become seduced by the darkness she spent a lifetime opposing. She watched with mournful acceptance, what her sons had become. It seemed to offer the strength that a decaying body stole. Though sadness filled her as she watched the chasm between she and these whom she had given life to become greater and filled with so many obstacles. She often wondered if they could ever be overcome.
As the men that her sons had become wandered deeper into the darkness she could battle only with the one magic that was greater than any force on either side. She could only quietly love them. Even though what they had found enticing were illusions, to them the illusion was real and she could not battle this overtly. It's the old "perception is reality" theory and while it were obvious to almost EVERYONE else that what they had found were a mirage, the wanting is many times stronger than the having and the having makes the wanting a hundred times more intense. The whole thing was a viscous cycle going round and round like a dog, chasing his tail or a car, knowing that to catch either would be a mistake but unable to stop the chase. The pain of having them wrenched from her heart made pain of having them torn from her body a pinprick and this pain, though she knew she must move through, she knew she would not recover from.
Even while she had all but lost the children she bore, she gained, as her passage between life-faces happened, a child bore not of her body but of her love. When one son crossed into that darkness from which he miight not return, he left behind a daughter and her Mother. And this Mother became daughter and as it should be, the cycle became complete.
Suddenly as she passed from Mother to Crone, through the Magic that was love, she had a granddaughter and a daughter. Neither were born of her body but of her soul.
And life was good.
