Adapted from real life events that took place over the weekend that sparked my imagination.
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Suddenly C appears from nowhere and reaches for the bag of potato chips on the dining table.
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
Silence. “They’re hiding in the kitchen”, says K.
“Talk about stereotype”, I add.
C tries to scoop a mound of chips into her hands.
“Why don’t you put them all into a bowl? Here”, I said handing over a grey plastic bowl Ikea made for kids to avoid making messes at dinner time.
Ten-year-old C continues to be silent but obedient to the instruction.
“What are you girls doing in the kitchen?”, I continue to pester the young C.
“They’re in there in Y’s room, talking and eating,” K replies on behalf of the child.
“Oooh, like little witches plotting mayhem”, I add.
I get a glare and frown from C as she runs off with the bowl of crunchy snack into the out-of-sight kitchen.
“They’ll all be holding the bowl together, hands touching the container, passing their witchy energies into the receptacle.”
“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble,” goes A.
“Right,” I continue, “They won’t know it but their magic will coalesce into the bowl and it will find lift. It will rise against gravity, ever so slowly but defiantly. They won’t realise it but their powers begin to present themselves. As the need for effort to hold the bowl evaporates, one of the ladies’ hand will move away inadvertently and the bowl will drop to the floor, the flow of sorcery broken. Their eyes will meet each others, no words spoken but a realisation that something beyond their physical selves had manifested across a PVC bowl of Lays. They knew then they were powerful.”
“One day, when C or A2 is mocked by a boy over something ridiculously childish like pimples or a stain on a uniform, the three shall gather by the school fence, Y on the outside. One of them will probably be sobbing, like C because she’s vain like that. In their need for comforting each other, they’ll hold hands, scolding and cursing the boy in question. Perhaps the whole male species may be maligned in their spitfire. Unbeknownst to them, their assemblage of emotions and hand holding will summon the invisible dark forces to do their instantaneous bidding. A tinge of red will glow in their eyes. “He’ll get this giant zit on his big fat nose that’ll burst at assembly period. Hahaha.” “Or he’ll get diarrhoea at PE when he’s far away from the toilet. Hee hee hee.” “Or maybe he’ll fall down the stairs and lose a tooth. Oooooh!”
“A yell and scream would be heard just then. C and A2 would turn around to face the school building while Y would stretch her neck and tip toe to see what had happened. Their hands would slip in their grip. C would only then notice how warm and red her hands were, unaware of how tightly they were latching on to one another. “You better go back,” Y will say, as if she was aware of events.”
“You’re horrible,” K remarks.
“Hey man, witches. You never know when and where but men better look out,” I conclude.
“What’s Y doing there?” A asks.
“They know when they need each other,” I reply, raising my eyebrows.
"You're very imaginative," curious bystander and mother of two M says.
"I don't have a job right now and K's given me another beer," I reply.
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