Alyth’s witch fantasy

My friend Alyth, the attractive and alliteratively awkward Alyth Archer, Ally to her close friends – although I do prefer Alyth (from the Gaelic for ‘rocky place’) – is a Scottish lass with a loud voice laced with infectious humour and a lyrical accent. Her long hair is an unapologetic effusion of red curls, and her large grey-blue eyes remind me of Audrey Hepburn.

I wouldn’t really say she is beautiful (sorry, Alyth…) but she is one of those people that you can’t help noticing. She demands attention, unintentionally, and gets it, for good and ill.

Another of Alyth’s delusional fantasies is that she was a witch in some former life. She’s into the whole Wicca thing, and her bedroom is full of herbs, essential oils and candles, and the books on her shelves are all occult witchcraft guides, apart from a collection of paranormal fiction.

For Halloween she dressed up as a witch, all in black, gothic highlights. Very sexy. Also strangely believable.

‘So, can you do any magic?’ I asked her.

She laughed, replying, ‘Shall I turn you into a frog?’

‘Will that get me a kiss from a beautiful princess?’

‘Who knows!’ She grinned and waved her hands at me, shouting, ‘Abracadabra!’

Of course nothing happened. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I can’t. I have tried a few spells, but they haven’t worked. At least I don’t think so. But, I don’t know, I think I’m starting to get a better sense of it. I’m more sure than ever that Cray’s a werewolf.’

I rolled my eyes as usual. ‘Well, I hope you wear a silver crucifix on your dates,’ I joked.

‘Oh, absolutely!’ she replied, oblivious to my humour.

About Frank

A Sci-Fi & Fantasy author and lyrical poet with a mild obsession for vampires, succubi, goddesses and Supergirl.
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