Hallow's Eve

The leaves were changing. The weather was turning colder. The nights were getting longer. Eve knew it was almost time; she knew as she lay in her too-soft bed that in four hours and thirteen minutes, it would be Halloween night. The best and worst night of the year. Go to sleep, a voice inside beckoned her; time will go by quicker. She looked at the clock again: 8:47. So she let herself lie in her wooden, creaky bed, sweating profusely, and fell asleep to the sound of a murder of crows calling out from her window. 

Eve awoke with a start. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her until she saw the flames from torches outside her bedroom window and heard the screams of her sisters calling out to her. She was lucky, she told herself, as she crept out of bed and donned her robes and hat. She was lucky to be a witch, to experience this one night where no one could judge her for what she truly was. She opened the door to the shack she lived in and stepped outside into the black of night. 

Her sisters crowded her in an instant. Since Eve lived closest to the barn, she was the last stop on her sister's long trek through the town. Their coven had grown exponentially since the creation of the Mother almost 1,300 years ago. Back then, the barn had been a graveyard. A graveyard where the Mother was born, and her mother died giving birth to her. Since then, every Halloween, all the witches in town went to that grave and performed a ritual that was meant to give back to the Mother. Whatever that meant. 

Children screamed from down the road, and a chill went down her spine as she was brought back to the real world from whatever daydream she had conjured in her mind this time. 

“Come along, Eve,” one of the elders said to her. The elders never revealed their names, and if one were to somehow know them, the sisters were allowed to call them as such. She followed this particular elder, ironically the youngest of the six, as she led Eve to the barn. It wasn’t occupied at this time of night. The floorboards were still creaking from whatever rich kid had a party the night prior; a few black streamers were still hanging from the wooden ceiling. 

The barn was like any normal one a child might read about in a bedtime story. Faded red wood on the outside, but the horse stables had been removed to create one big open space, typically used for partying. The floor was made of grey polished concrete, and the odd rug was placed around the large room. Eventually, almost like second nature, the sisters formed a circle, leaving a small hole about six feet wide in the center of the barn.

The oldest elder, who Eve and her friends called Wrinkle, stepped into that circle carrying the Cauldron. This cauldron, much like the barn, was a fitting stereotype for what witches in fantasy novels used. It was all black metal with a silver handle. But unlike any normal cauldron, it was spewing purple mist from its opening, and the mist faded into nothing as it reached the bottom of the Cauldron, forming an ever-flowing waterfall of violet.

“Welcome, sisters,” Wrinkle greeted, in a voice so ancient and cruel it almost sounded like death itself. Eve’s whole body shook, not out of fear, but from the cold that emitted from Wrinkle as the witch spoke. She began to recite words that Eve had heard so many times she could recite them from memory.

“It is that time of year again. A time that we give back to the Mother, for her loss and sacrifice. This is a moment where we must join together, despite whatever differences we have. A time to be our truest selves, and let our real power shine. Now, if you would all connect hands, we can complete the ritual to respect our dear Mother and go back to scaring all of those young people searching for sweets in town. 

Eve’s hands were grabbed by two witches she did not know, and she was pulled into a circular motion. Words she did not recognize were being uttered all around her. This was not the spell that she had learned to cast in her past 113 years. Fear flowed through her as she realised this was a completely different spell. In fact, the words sounded evil, full of malice, not from the kindhearted world of witches she had come to know. 

She looked over to the witch on her right. She wasn’t much older than Eve, but there was something wrong with her sister's face, something she couldn’t really pinpoint until…

Her eyes.

Her eyes were rolled into the back of her head, not a pupil or vein in sight. Just completely, utterly empty. Eve looked to the sister to her left and saw her eyes rolled back and vanished. She let go of their hands but was immediately knocked over and out of the circle. With what little arm strength she had, she pushed herself onto her knees, ignoring the pain she felt there, and stared wide-eyed at her sisters. 

Every single one had the same blank expression and empty eyes. And from out of the top of the Cauldron, black smoke poured. Not that beautiful lavender haze she had come to love her entire life, but a cold, heartless black smoke that was feeding in the souls of every single one of her sisters. 

Except Eve. She screamed. She didn’t know what else to do; she thought her body might have gone into shock. 

Her sisters began to move lifelessly. But they weren’t moving with their usual grace. They were like robots, twitching every few seconds, and then being pushed by an invisible force to the ground. Pushed so hard that they were breaking the concrete under the barn and into the dirt. Into graves, she realised in horror.

Her sister's faces were still blank. They had no idea what was happening to them; she wondered if they were still alive. Eve let out a bloodcurdling scream, fear taking over her, and without thinking, she tried to grab one of her sisters and pull her up. But the second Eve’s immortal hand touched her sister, a painful, almost blinding shock went through her, and she was forced back.

All she could do was watch. She tried to summon the feeling back into her hands, hoping that it would come back in time as her sisters were buried all around her. 

She stopped feeling anything at all soon after that. There must have been something wrong with the ritual, some way to fix it. But she couldn’t move her body until the last witch was completely gone. Leaving only Eve and the black smoke that was still pouring out of the Cauldron. She shot up straight and darted over to that black malice.

“UNDO IT,” she sobbed, unable to keep her emotions in check any longer. "SAVE THEM!” 

As if in some voiceless answer, the black smoke began to ease, ever so slightly that it was only visible to a trained witch's eyes. In its place, that sweet purple was starting to return. But it was floating up, and up, and forming…Forming a person out of smoke. 

In this smoke person's face, Eve could see parts of her own. They shared the same nose that was bent a little at the end, and they had the same sharp cheekbones. The woman, the witch, Eve realised with a start, was wearing flowing robes that went further than the smoke would show, and her black hair was floating as if there was no gravity to hold it down. She wore a very silver, intricate crown on her head. Eve’s head began to pound as she stared down the Mother.

Eve stepped back, just one step. 

“So,” the Mother spoke softly, in a voice that terrifyingly sounded like Eve’s. “You’re the one they call Eve.” 

Eve couldn’t think of anything to say, but she didn’t want to upset the obviously ethereal being that was her holy Mother.

“Yes,” was all Eve could get out.

“Eve,” the Mother began. “I don’t have much time to explain. There is an evil spirit, one that was created by me and my sadness when my mother died. For the past 1,300 years, I have been trying to fend this beast off from the world. The ritual you perform every year isn’t to give back to me; it’s to give me the power I need to fight this beast.

“I do not know how, but this year, it has absorbed your powers instead and has escaped from my grasp. It wants to get rid of all witches, so it can claim this world for itself without disturbance. But you, Eve, you are my ancestor, the only one I have left. The spell, for whatever reason, did not work on you.” The mother's smoky form began to shake, her breath becoming ragged.

“He is coming; I cannot stop him any longer. Just remember, young Eve, you were born for this.” The purple haze and her Mother disappeared in an instant, leaving Eve in utter shock. But she had very little time to gawk, no time to process all that had happened. Because in place of the Mother, her only ancestor, another being was beginning to form. This one was much more real and powerful than its successor. The beast. 

Eve wasn’t sure she was breathing as a demon of earth and fire appeared before her. She had only just begun her magic training. How was she ever going to be able to stop this thing?

You were born for this.

What the hell did that even mean? What did any of this mean? She couldn’t do this, couldn’t protect people from what this thing would unleash. Couldn’t save her sisters now buried deep beneath the ground.

Her sisters.

They were trapped, maybe dead, because of this thing. Her best friends, her mentors, were down there, waiting for her. Counting on her. 

The beast lunged at her, and without thinking, she dodged it, moving out of the way at a speed she had never moved before. For her sisters, she would do this. But she didn’t know any spells, none powerful enough to send the demon back to where it came from, let alone destroy it. 

Except she did. That spell her sisters were chanting earlier, that wasn’t the beast taking over them. It was the Mother, trying to stop it. And while she knew she wasn’t powerful enough to stop it, she might be able to contain it. She searched back into her memory, and as if the Mother had planted it there, Eve could remember the spell word for word.

She dodged the monster again, this time getting so close she was able to feel the heat from his fiery hand. She began to utter the spell. The words felt good on her tongue; they felt like they belonged, not like the malice she had heard earlier. 

When she was done, the beast was staring at her, fiery eyes wide with shock, as it looked at the lilac glow in her hands. She looked at them too, and felt power there. And with whatever might, strength, and will were inside her, she pushed her hands towards the beast. Purple smoke blasted out and blinded them both. 

It took her a few seconds to adjust to the light, actually more than a few. And when Eve finally got used to it, after the light had dwindled, she realised she wasn’t in the barn

No, she was in her bed. How had she gotten here? Who had taken her? Dread sank into her as she looked over and read the time on her clock.

8:48.