The Witching Hour

“Are you going trick-or-treating tonight?” Anushka asked the shurbed.

“Na, I’m staying home and roasting acorns,” came the reply.

The two friends had known each other since they were children. They could hardly wait for the witching hour and candy apples. This year felt different.

“Anushka, do you feel things have changed? It seems more like August than October,” said Terkell.

“I do understand, Terkell. This morning, I saw a Gertel frog playing on a lily pad. It should have been way down in the mud by now,” said the girl.

“Come to think of it, old man Farlingsworth’s apple trees were still budding. That means no cider punch for the harvest supper tomorrow,” Terkell said.

The two watched the sun set and then said their goodbyes.

“See you in the morning, Anushka. I’ll bring over the dewberry pie for tea,” her friend said as he walked down the path toward his den.

“Ok, tea will be set at ten, so don’t be late,” replied Anushka.

The girl sat for a few more minutes watching the sun slide over the horizon.

“I hope Mother Earth can get back on track for the Startika festival. It would be shameful not to go sledding this year.

In the pit of her stomach, she knew something was not right. For now, trick-or-treats were the issue at hand.

“Tomorrow I will go and see the wise woman. She’ll know what the problem is.” Anushka remarked as she climbed down the stairs. She headed to the village for a candy apple.

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