"I heard you were coming." My cracked long dead lips part to let the words escape. 

I watch the mage plod through the growing shadows of my quagmire. He looks up at me from the sinking mud with calm in his heart. 

He sees my power but fails to feel fear. "I told them to tell you I was coming." His wool gray shawl drags through the mud, collects at the bottom.

"Was hoping I'd run from big bad Castor and his lies of grandeur?" I reply, make sure the slime on my tongue makes the words stick.

"I was hoping you'd get ready." He lights his corn cob pipe with a spark from his blackened thumb, fingernail sharpened to a point. "And I see you have." 

He draws in smoke, exhales an impossible amount. The smoke and fog curl together in dusk.

This man is power, from another realm. My cheeks heat with fear, a feeling now foreign. 

"A man of your build is too rare to kill. I'll try and keep you alive for my own pleasure." I squint, let my decayed tongue roll out and twirl around seductively. "How big's that cock of yours, mage?" I blink beyond my control, a nervous tick returning.

The mage says nothing, draws in more smoke and blows it out into the ever growing cloud between us. "They sent me for justice, but I'm here because you'll give me fight."

"I'll give you death if you're lucky."

The mage's glacier blue eyes snap up to meet mine for the first time, I feel my soul retreat.

"You'll give me silence." His hand waves in tiny circular motions...

I realize my mistake, the cloud masking his motions - I cannot speak. My actions will have to speak in place of words.

I reach for my wand.

Oh, I hated him. His grey face all full of whiskers and stinking of lichens and tree sap. Always collecting in my collecting spots. His crooked little walk, and his raspy boot steps, always tracking mud in the taverns and leaving behind little crumbled bits of mushrooms on the stools, and they would get hot after he left, and glow, hours after, sometimes, and burn, right down into the wood of the stool, or the floor where they had been brushed by someone else's buttocks.

Filthy man. He stank of sour berries and weird herbs. Sometime he would follow me. I always knew. I swear, somewhere, I know I knew. Skulking around, picking all the feverfew once I had walked on, so I returned to nothing. His stupid mouth, filled with ugly words, words he threw like stones. They were always stupid, simple words that he changed. Then they didn't sound right anymore, and they wriggled right into your skin, and they just kind of wormed around in there, until they made you sick. 

Spells, he called them. Spells alright. I had spells after I met him. I'll give him Spells. 

And He's still out there, I know because he sends all his horrible beastly creatures to look in my windows at night, and they frighten all my bats. The beasties, the ugly little owls. Sure, he had ideas. We both had ideas back then. Just turn the roots, turn them over and over, and turn them in your mind, into something, into something else. Like a pair of hands, held in a circle of bright lamplight. Turn your fingers into rabbit ears, turn your hands into a buck in the winter, then make the buck come running. Sure he thought of that. Sure, he had ideas.

I knew he did. I know he wanted my broomstick. I knew it then, and kept it hidden. He didn't think of that, the dirty man, he wanted it badly. 

He called me witch. It was his word. His spell. 

Which are you!  He said Which!!  and he changed it in his mouth, his twisted mouth all flanked in whiskers Witch!  he said, and he made the word a whip, and it twisted around me and it made me twisted. I wasn't like this before. I hated him before, though, I did. I hated him, I swear. 

And he wanted her. And she couldn't do anything. All her herbs did nothing. Not like mine. But he didn't call her witch. I hated him, sure I did. Even when I begged him, came to his door in the evening, with the sun at my back, illuminating him. I wanted him, I couldn't help that, he wore on me and I needed him, his hands, but he took them from me. 

He gave me my name. He took his hands, and the woman from my heart, and left behind a witch. Stupid man. Wizard. I got him back. Wizard  I said. And he twisted too. 

He deigned to notice me today.

"You spend a lot of time staring at plants."  Really condescending. 

"Just studying the interconnectedness of all things."

That got him. "You find that in plants?"

"You find that in books?" I retorted.

That reminded him of who he thought he was and what he thought of me. "Who said you could live in my garden?"

"I have to live somewhere. Anyhow nobody in town wants either one of us."

"Thats not my fault."

"Prove it. Let me stay."

He walked off. I hoped I won. Then I hoped we both won. I went back to my pond.

The rabbi tricked me.

He didn't look like a priest. He even admired my tadpoles. 

"I see God in the interconnectedness of all things."

Then I shoved my foot down my throat. "Why not talk to the wizard?"

"Why not?" and he moved uphill.

They talked three days.

Then the wizard came down with a spade and tore into my lovely pond!

"Hey! The interconnectedness of all things, remember?"

"I need the clay. We're making a golem."

"Whats a golem?"

"It's Jewish. They can use a guardian against the temple priests."

"Whoa. Whatever a golem is, you're not Jewish. And whatever troubles you have with any system, can easiest be solved by harnessing the energies of the system itself to adapt. Work with the priests to change the priests."

"I should be lectured by a beggarwoman in a garden?"

"My wisdom should be mocked because it isn't written Chaldean?"

He slung his baskets of wet clay and went uphill.

I left that night. Breaking any system always provokes wild backlash. I resolved that my daughters would stay away from all wizards and priests, forever.

Vexing hexing

That's what this is

I was quite secure

In my devotion

To Mother Earth

Now,

Here's a new black magic

A penis

Powered infatuation

Supremacy

His quest

Equality

My own

Power to the people

Says me

Power to me

Says he

Beautiful, mystical

Creation

Versus

Murderous, bullying

Destruction

"I'm more powerful than you"

He HAS to believe that too

(Egos being what they are)

"Yes," I placate,

"You're SO great"

I feign to contend

(The truth says different)

I'll wait, with gentile patience

For this self-destructive nuisance

To fall victim to his own potion disaster

While I tend to the nurturing needs

Of all he bends (but fails to break) 

Planting his hideous seeds

I'll satisfy my self, spending

my magic on healing

All the hurts his curses bring

And, while doing so, 

Will sing

"Oh, master (huh!), thou art great

For surely nothing will motivate

Like greed, power and muscle strength

All will certainly not hesitate

To do your will, to fight your fight

To always be ready, willing to procreate

And never, ever deny your might!"

Then, in a whisper

I'll let slip

"Buddy, please, for the love of-

Nature- get a grip!!"

Ever the fan of understated

Sarcasm

This witch to this

First (God, I hope last)

Wizard

'I am Wizard Criminee' the bespectacled boy bowed 'I'll be taking that Beetleroot...'

Estrima punched him in the face.

As if she’d let a man deter her! Her father and elder brothers, all were useless. And what was a “wizard” anyway?

‘No, you won’t. This is in my forest!’ She declared proudly ‘I am a witch!’

‘An itch? You need a balm?’

‘You dare call me weak!’ Estrima bellowed. That’s what everyone called her. ‘If you want my plant – Fight!’

‘You just broke my snout!’ he cried, coating his nose in yellow ointment. The swelling disappeared.

‘I am mortally afraid of you! But for my medicine...’ He sighed ‘How would you like to compete?’

Estrima squinted.

‘Faunaspeak?’ he proposed, lifting his hand. Commotion followed.

She gasped. Crows came flocking and surrounded them in every direction, cawing over their heads. What was that?

‘Too easy.’ She lied, covering her ears.

‘Spells, then?’ he started muttering something.

Estrima saw tiny drops of dew fly above their heads! They spread out in front of her, displaying her freckled face. A mirror!

She gaped at it, then squinted at Criminee.

He was good! Estrima was extremly annoyed. She felt the same, when her brothers boasted their magical achievements, ending with “But poor Estrima! She belongs to no class of magic!”

But she could listen to tiny whisperings hidden from the corner of everyone’s eyes. Spirits!

And she had decided to shut those men up!

They asked her ‘Which spectrum colour are you?’

‘Witch.’ She would answer. Then, this guy came!

‘Listen, let’s do it fast.’ He urged urgently ‘Lives depend on my medicine.’

She squinted. There was only one thing she could do.

‘Come!’ she pleaded, cupping her hands together.

A small spark twinkled in between her palms. She looked around her, spirits glittered everywhere, between trees, under the Beetleroot, in her tangled hair.

‘This is spirit talking!’ To her surprise, he exclaimed ‘I’ve never seen anyone do this before!’ Like a child, he clapped his hands. Removing his glasses, he came peering into her palms.

‘You are truly amazing!’ he grinned. No one had ever called her “amazing” before.

‘You are truly weird.’ she commented slowly.

‘Yes, that’s from where I got “Wizard”.’ He nodded, bowing politely ‘How unfortunate! I lost. You are too strong for me! Still I want this Beetleroot...’

She boxed his teeth this time. Wrombizongs! His modesty was too insulting!

‘Why are you bullying me?’ he rubbed his bleeding lip.

‘The Beetleroot. You can have it.’ Shrugging, she turned away.

‘Really? Th...’

‘I’m not helping you.’ she coughed. ‘But I hope you succeed. Your medicine will be amazing.’

‘Thanks.’ She heard him dig. ‘Anyway, Why would you think you are weak? My mother taught me everything and she is really strong.’

‘Is that so?’ Perhaps, the “Wizard” was not so bad.

Then it clicked.

‘Wait! That means I am not the first witch?’

He had disappeared.

‘Wrombizongs!’ She yelled at the woods ‘I hate men!’

He was just so laughable

His mistakes were stackable

And his spells were so impractical

I was strong and viable

With no time to train an animal

I was a witch all powerful

This wizard was not classical

But his practice was admirable

Still though he was intangible

I was nothing but magical

Burdened with such an invaluable

Working with him was impossible

His wand was almost damnable

But he had a knack for casual

Potions and he was adaptable

I thought he was just irrational

But he offered more expansible

Knowledge than first imaginable

His resistance was understandable

I hadn't been exactly attachable

So I had to show him impalpable

Evidence that I wasn't so horrible

And that we would somehow be able

To work together mechanical

We wove our charms unchangeable

And made each other tractable

Our powers together were maximal

This witch and wizard infallible

Our team had become actual

And our dreams were becoming graspable

I was once collapsible

But he became an unflappable

Foundation unextractable

Our magic bond infrangible

We were just two radicals

With different international

Practice but combinational

We became unstoppable

A magic way more powerful

Then either had dreamed possible

Together we were impassable

I guess we were compatible

Cautiously, I crouched low to the underbrush, holding my breath. Peering through the gaps of pine branches, I scanned my surroundings. I waited still as the stick bugs I often found clinging to tree trunks. Earlier, I ventured into the forest on a routine forage for wild berries and herbs. I was testing out a recipe for a new potion, and after three unsuccessful attempts I needed to replenish my supply. It was the crow that first warned me. Having spent so much of my time alone in these woods, I became accustomed to the many sounds of the wildlife that called this forest home. The crow was a good friend, an ally. In time, I learned to recognize each of his unique calls, and when I heard that suspicious caw-caw-caw, I knew instantly there was an intruder.  

And there he was! Brambling through my forest, while clumsily trampling valuable roots and toadstools. How wasteful. I resented this intruder for entering these sacred woods, and taking no heed to the flora and fauna around him. Nature should be respected, not carelessly destroyed. I enjoyed my solitude, and his presence annoyed me. I claimed these woods as my own a decade ago, when I was run out of the village by the foolish simpletons who did not understand me or my value to society. I was a mere girl, frightened and alone, but I persevered. Here, I learned to hone my powers and practice my craft. Never once in ten years had I been disturbed, until today. When I saw him flatten a patch of clover with his clunky boots, I nearly lost my wits. But I knew how to trip him up. I whispered a spell bringing life to the gnarled roots of a dead tree, and when the intruder crossed its path, the tree grabbed hold of his ankle, and he dropped like a stone. 

I ran toward him, quick as the deer that frequented these woods. Soon, I was upon him, hovering over his slumped body. I kicked him once, and he groaned face down in the dirt.

“Who sent you here?” I asked aggressively.

The man struggled to turn over, but the living tree roots held him fast. Whispering the counter spell, the roots instantly shriveled and the man wrenched his foot free. 

“On your feet,” I hissed.

The man stood tall, and I realized he was no man. A mere boy stood before me. He was marked, like I was. Burned, like I was, on the arms and face. Was this child a witch? Chased from the village like I had been years earlier? I had never met another like me, and always thought if I did, it would be another woman. 

“They called me wizard,” His voice was raspy from smoke inhalation, “I was nearly burned at the stake. I sought you out to seek shelter.”

I looked at the ragged boy, and took pity.  I’d help him, certainly, but he’d better earn his keep.

https://theprose.com/post/126195/wizard-boy

"Who the actual f-u-c-k decided this would be a good idea? A man witch? A 'wizard'? What in all hells? Men cannot do anything deeper than shovel dirt!" The dark haired witch turns in her cottage, her dress barely missing the flames in her fireplace. They flare up, running their fingers along the smooth fabric encouraging her to continue. "How is this man suppose to make the most beautiful art of our-no-my magic and manage to not dirty it with his guns,his war. How is he suppose to see the spirits around him when he cannot look up from his money?" Her violet eyes flare with fury, her fists clenched into fists by her sides, small half moons forming on her palms from squeezing too hard. She turns back to her loyal audience. Plants of all sizes and shapes sit along a window sill, various birds sitting among and between them. Her fists fly up with a cackle. "Ha! A wizard indeed. This man is nothing other than a mere mundane boy who sees things he does not understand and wishes to overcome it. Well I will not- Nay!- will never help this disgusting boy 'wizard'." She lets the word drip from her upturned lips muttering all the way over the her favorite armchair. Her dark arms flying to and fro as she murmurs of how ridiculous this was. She lets out a frustrated huff falling into the maroon throne, running her hand along a vine that appears by her side. "Let him figure this out on his own, as so many men have done before him. To care not of consequences is mans' best feature..."The enchantress hesitates. Her devoted animals cock their heads. "but then...the whole land will be plagued with his foolish mistakes." This thought sent chills through her, her mind was running wild with thoughts of different spells that could go wrong with just a simple off beat pronunciation. The results of this impostor could be disastrous. She knows what she has to do but could hardly bring herself to say it. She stands, running a hand through her hair before nodding resolutely. She lets out a deep sigh.  "I suppose there's no way around it, I must help this boy if we wish to remain secure here." The pets spoke their agreement, a sparrow jumping up onto the magic masters shoulder. A smile spreads across her features. "Thank you dears, now how's for dinner? There's no use meeting this boy on an empty stomach now is there? The spirit will just not be the same." She turns picking up a cauldron and setting it on the fire, her features now form into the hard expression she hardly wears. She picks up her hair and starts cutting up ingredients. She shakes her head, puffing out an upset curse then stops. A thoughtful expression whisks across her face. She lets out a quiet giggle . "Men cannot do anything deeper than shovel dirt."

He taught me,

He raised me,

He found me,

He made me.

His magic, out of control,

Transformed me to what I am.

Witch, made of lamb.

Now I reign over the world,

I take my pick of who to shave,

And who to kick.

I will not be told,

What to do or how to act,

Because me and him,

We made a sacred pact.

I promised to tell his story,

But first I must warn you,

It is quite gory.

I lived in a time where wolves ruled

And man was but a joke.

As a young boy, First Wizard,

Choked.

On a small red berry,

Magical at that,

On his birthday, 

while wearing his starry blue celebration hat.

A volatile thing,

The magic of fairies,

What did he do?

He ate a faerie berry.

Most men who eat them,

Will die quite soon,

choke on their vomit 

while their wives swoon,

Over angelic elfish faces,

Before split by magical cursed maces.

But at the age that he was,

The Wizard and his pet dove,

Made magically magical,

The dove became and owl.

As he grew older and older,

The Wizard came to find,

Strange things happened 

When imagined in his mind.

One day he was walking,

And to me, his best sheep,

He was talking.

All the sudden,

Out of the blue.

He pulled off his hat

With a flourish or two.

Out from the tip Zap, Zap!

And magical magic,

In shivering fits,

I grew and grew,

And looked down to my hooves,

but instead found shiny, black pointy shoes.

And such is the story,

Of First Wizard, and Witch.

I pulled it off quite well,

I hope there was no hitch.

Innocent lives had been lost. The first wizard James is now a hero. Hanging the girls I've come to love and began to train. He must be taken out. Salem is a place I thought I would love but its become a deathtrap for us. Afraid of being overpowered he will slaughter us. I ended up taking in his daughter as an apprentice. Elizabeth, one of the most beautiful apprentices I've ever had. She is the only one I hope he will spare. I saw in my future of me being burned, but saw in her, a much brighter future. It is a fate I cannot escape. I will not run and I will not hide. "Is everything in place?" she asked me as I was there tied to a cross. "Yes my darling" I told her as she handed me my wand." When the executioner threw the lighted torch I gave a nod. Elizabeth quickly fired two fireballs at the nooses of two witches being hung and they dropped. I quickly used my wand and untied myself and saw Elizabeth grab her broom and fly, picking up the two witches. I then pulled wand and pulled James up to me. He was defenseless, "I knew it was you! But how could you do it to a little girl?! She will be burned! I tried to keep her safe!" he shouted. "You tried to keep yourself safe" I replied as I flung him into the fire with my wand. "Time to join The Gallows" I said to myself. It was a mass hysteria out there and my broom flew to me. "London, here I come"...