The Children (Welcome to Mistland)

The Children is one of the stories in Welcome to Mistland written by Julie Morley.

Welcome to Mistland: The Children
Today marked the changing of the seasons. The leaves were changing their colors and tones, painting the trees in a vibrant palette of rich, fiery reds, oranges, and yellows. The autumn season was moving in on the inhabitants of Mistland and with the season comes the Elder’s tales of witches, ghouls, and the ancient rituals.

Just on the outskirts of the forest, the Elder and a small group of children were together for her routine bedtime stories. Except this was a special occasion. This was a story that would stick with the flock of youngsters.

She gazed down at the children, all gathered around her, eager for her autumn tales. A small fire rested beside the Elder, crackling away loudly. The children were excited, each chiming in cheerfully with their warm cocoa and blankets. The Elder raised her hands in a halting motion, “Now children, let’s calm down. I can’t tell you a story when you’re all over the place. Please sit down.” Her voice was raspy and shaky, yet warm and comforting.

Once the chatter amongst the children died down, she began her story and magic unfolded before the young ones. “On the thirteenth day of chilly autumn..” she began, her voice heavy and strong, “after flutes of satyrs drown in mists,” she paused again for dramatic effect, “and before you hear the Wild Hunt breaking – through the crowns of sleepy giant trees..”

The children’s eyes widened, glowing with wonder and gleaming with curiosity. They looked amongst each other excitedly, more animated with every word the Elder spoke. She continued her song, stand before the Stone Bowl of Blackwoods, Ghosts of witches will be dancing there,” her spoke louder and louder with every line,” sharing secrets with the daring, pulling down the one who’s unaware.” A harmony of “oo’s” and “ah’s” resounded through the forest. The Elder grinned with satisfaction.

She bent down to face them, her index finger extended and pointing at the crowd, “Children, what have you learned of..witches?” Their faces were blank, uncertain what to say. One boy in particular raised his hand, shaking with nervousness and unease. She nodded approvingly and he rose from his spot, fiddling with his fingers, “they are..mean creatures. They have magic powers and my mom said to never cross one..?”

The Elder let out a chuckle, “My, your mother is very protective of you.” She stood up straight, her hands in a grand waving motion, as if to spread wings, “Witches are anything but scary and may be the most misunderstood of the Mistland community, children. This song, this rhyme I sing to you, is the song of the Witch Circle. Witches from all over Mistland will gather together on Shaggy Mountain and sing this song.”

She smiled, “these witches are neither cruel nor spiteful in nature but do carry a tremendous amount of power that requires an unheard of amount of skill and patience.” The children were silent, seemingly confused by the Elder’s wise words. She sang, “On the thirteenth day of chilly autumn! After flutes of satyrs drown in mists and before you hear the Wild Hunt breaking! Through the crowns of sleepy giant trees, stand before the Stone Bowl of Blackwoods. Ghosts of witches will be dancing there, sharing scary secrets with the daring, pulling down the one who’s unaware!” “Children, the witch circle is sacred to the witch and wizard community for it is a time and a place for them to gather together, exchange stories, and improve as individuals of Mistland.” She laughed, “Many have harshly judged this gathering and assumed the worst of these witches but I know for certain they are good people.”

“Pulling down the one who’s unaware!” The elder was boisterous, singing mightily and proud, “Children, always be aware of what someone’s character may truly be and do not judge without knowing.”

With one swift swing of her arm, she swung, her sleeve creating a beautiful wave of color, shining above the fire. The Elder snapped her fingers and the fire died immediately, ” That’s all for tonight, my dearies.”