Samhain’s Reckoning

Reyna Bhawal

Some stories are meant to be heard. On windy nights, as owls hoot somewhere far. Our young author for this piece has just the story: when folk magics roam the land and spirits keen.
Written story below.

In a small village nestled comfortably between a harsh river and whispering woods, there lived a witch called Aquilla. With red hair as curly as a spring coil and loose black robes with a dark purple belt, she was feared by all villagers. However, unlike horrid tales spun by authors with vivid imaginations where witches are harbingers of evil, waiting to eat children, Aquilla was not a cackling lady soaring across the night sky on a broomstick.

In fact, Aquilla was arguably the nicest being in the entire village. While the village women gossiped rudely after their husbands ‘manned up’ and left the house, our friendly witch quietly studied books of spells as well as of human fantasy in her humble abode. 

However, Aquilla was awfully unhappy, for the Great Witch of The World, her mother’s sworn enemy, had cursed her to be grounded forever, unable to fly. And, as Samhain crept around the corner and her cousins looked down upon her in disgrace, she lost her sense of purpose and vibrancy, like a ghost among the living, her heart heavy with loneliness. 

One evening, after reading a particularly dull story about a princess being rescued by a dragon, Aquilla wandered into the woods near her house. The trees hovered above her, their branches twisting up like hands about to touch the moon. As she walked deeper into the darkness, allowing herself to get lost in the dark green, she heard a sharp hoot that echoed through the stillness. Confused, Aquilla looked up, and found the largest snow owl she had ever seen. Upon being discovered, the majestic bird flew away with great speed, and, as if in a trance, the witch chased behind it.

After what felt like an hour of running in heels, Aquilla halted at a clearing bathed in moonlight. There, under the silvery glow, stood a boy with a translucent form. He looked not a day older than fifteen, his face reflecting sorrow and longing. 

‘Who are you?’ Aquilla enquired, her heart pounding against her ribs.

‘My name is Xavier,’ he replied in an echoing whisper.

Aquilla stared at the boy. His popping eyes, his pale and translucent skin, the absence of a shadow beneath his two feet – it transported her into a fictional world in a book. ‘Are you-’ she began to ask.

‘Yes,’ Xavier said. ‘The one I called my friend stabbed me in the back, literally, and took me away from this world forever. Now, I haunt these woods, unable to return home, for I would not be accepted anywhere else.’

For the first time in her one hundred and twenty one years of existence, tears welled in Aquilla’s eyes, because she knew better than all others the despair caused by loneliness and rejection. ‘How can I help you?’ she asked. 

‘I don’t think you can,’ he said, ‘because the problem I face is one I cannot imagine trying to solve. You see, my spirit is bound to this land because I was killed even though I was innocent. I will be stuck in-between the realms of the living and the dead until my killer is brought to justice.

‘But this is impossible for me to do,’ Xavier continued, ‘because he who killed me in anger and rage is now the only person who looks out for my little sister, Samara.’ 

Determined to help Xavier find peace, Aquilla told him, ‘I’m Aquilla. I’m a witch.’ Then, when the boy took a step back, she hastily added, ‘I’ll help you bring your killer to justice, and I promise, I’ll take care of your sister. You just have to tell me exactly what happened to you.’ 

Xavier did as he was told, because he had been stuck as a ghost for over a year, and desperately wanted peace. He explained how he’d been lured into these woods by someone he knew and trusted – someone who had been consumed by rage and jealousy. The name hung heavy in the air: Aiden.

‘And where does this Aiden live?’ Aquilla asked.

As Samhain night fell upon them, Aquilla and Xavier found themselves standing in front of Aiden’s house – a shady-looking shack at the edge of town where shadows danced in candlelight. They could hear horrendous laughter spilling from inside. Aiden was enjoying while Xavier faced torment.

‘Aiden,’ Aquilla screamed as loudly as she could. ‘Show yourself!’

In a few moments, Aiden’s face appeared. His expression changed from confused to a sneer, as he recognised the boy standing behind the witch. A chill rushed down his spine, as he realised he was standing face-to-face with a ghost and a witch. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said.

With new-found resolve coursing through her veins, Aquilla stepped forward, raw and potent magic at her fingertips, ready to avenge her new friend. ‘You took his life!’ she shouted, her voice echoing through the night.

Drawing upon her sorrow and anger for both herself and Xavier, Aquilla unleashed a powerful spell, wrapped Aiden in chains of ice and letting him hover in the air. ‘You shall now pay the price!’ she yelled.

In that final moment of confrontation, Aquilla felt something shift in her. She wasn’t quite sure if it was Xavier’s presence or her own power, but she felt strong, stronger than she had in a long time. 

With one last incantation, she conjured up a blade imbued with magic, and let it fly straight into Aiden. She watched, flinching, as the boy started to scream and his soul was taken away from the luxuries of the land of the living. 

As dawn broke over the horizon and sky became streaked with gold and orange, Xavier’s spirit began to glow brighter. ‘Thank you, my friend,’ his voice echoed, ‘for setting me free. Don’t forget your promise.’ With that, the translucent figure turned into a ball of bright white light and shot up into the sky. 

Aquilla felt peace wash over her – a feeling she never thought she’d experience. For the first time in years, she felt lighter, because she’d learnt what it meant to let go. Though she could not fly in the sky like other witches, she realised that true magic isn’t in spells or soaring across the sky, but in helping people and allowing light to conquer the dark.

As Samhain came to an end, Aquilla visited Xavier’s house and took his sister home with her, returning not as an outcast, but as a proud witch reborn with strength and hope for what lay ahead.

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