Clueless: A Seasonal Short

Story By Mary Zoeller 

My life had been lived in a pretty simple, follow the river sort of way. I went where the flow pushed me. I planted my flowers, my herbs, worked at aimless jobs, had lovely friends and a few courtships. My greatest joy was the garden and learning how, by nourishing the things that grew, I could help the health of myself, my friends, and my neighbors. I lived instinctively and peacefully and was happy.

I had always had green thumbs. Knowledge and experience helped me be a better gardener but never explained how random plants would just appear and grow so well in the tilled soil in my yard. Things like Autumn Clematis, butterfly weed, and foxglove would appear, and along with all the other flora, flourish. Maybe it was because I was willing to let that little new thing I didn’t recognize grow until I figured out what it was, but I always seemed to have the best luck in these’random appearances. My yards over the years, and wherever I was, always became filled with an abundance of beautiful or helpful plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees.

Over the years I gathered knowledge about those plants, what they could do and how they could help with all the simple maladies that populate all our lives. Sometimes I had the opportunity to share what I learned with my friends, my neighbors and all those I loved. This developed organically and slowly into a personal database of knowledge I could use to help others. It seemed a normal and happy thing to share with others.

I had lived in my present home for about six years. It was a very pleasant, older, blue-collar neighborhood with a nice mix of people of all ages. My house was a modest, one story, two-bedroom house with a garage and greenhouse. The greenhouse had been one of those serendipitous perks that had been there when I bought the home. I spent lots of time planning gardens of all kinds as the years passed. After six years there was an herb garden, shrubs, dwarf fruit trees, a cutting garden, flowers for color, eating and remedies. There was also the fire circle, the fishpond, and borders of shrubs and grasses for privacy.

On a June Saturday I was sitting on the steps leading down the deck with my morning cup of coffee. I was thinking about where I might put some kind of water feature and what it might look like. My cat Al, short for Alfonso, was sitting next to me and was allowing me to pet him. 

He was a sleek black cat with brilliant green eyes. He had wandered into my yard as a kitten, shortly after I had moved in. One short snack after that he had adopted me, my house, and my yard as his home. Early on I had to teach him to stay away from the birds and their feeders. He had caught on quickly to the difference between flying prey I wanted no harm to come to and the nuisance prey I was happy for him to catch or chase away. With Al around the chipmunks and squirrels minded their manners. Mice that invaded our house, greenhouse or garage were dealt with severely. I had mixed feelings about that but chiding him over it was met with a severe disdainful look. “Mind your tasks and I’ll mind mine,” he seemed to say. 

As we sat there my thoughts of fountains were ended by Al leaping up and running around the side of the house. Interruptions to sunny morning pettings were unheard of so I decided to follow. As I rounded the corner of the house and walked towards the street, I saw Al looking, with concern, at a young boy sitting on the sidewalk. I could hear little whimpers and the boy’s head hung low. As I got closer, I recognized him as the little boy who had recently moved in a couple of houses down the street. 

I sat down next to him and asked him quietly what was wrong. After a moment, in a halting sentence, he told me he was lost and couldn’t find his house. Then he burst into tears. I couldn’t help but put my arm around his shoulders to give him a little comfort. I was so relieved there was a simple solution to this little one’s troubles. I told him that he was very clo se to home and after some coaxing got him to stand. We joined hand s and, Al following, I walked the young man home. We knocked on the door and a very anxious woman answered the do or. She had a dour look on her face when she saw me, but then, upon seeing her son, relief seemed to wash over her. She knelt down and held her arms out to him. With tears running down his face he ran into her arms. “Well,” I thought, “all’’s well that ends well!” 

Without a glance at me, Mom ushered her son into the house and the door shut. I tried to explain this away by considering how concerned she must have been about her son being missing. Didn’t quite work and Al gave me a look that said, “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, forget it. That w as rude behavior, period.” With a flick of his tail, he walked off and I followed. 

I spent the rest of the day on mundane weekend chores. I was hoping to get all that stuff done so I could spend most of Sunday doing fun things. Al came and went as he wished through the cat door I had put in for him. He did spend much of the day lying in the shade watching the off-limit activity at the bird feeder. 

I woke up early Sunday. I was excited because it was a day I could devote to preparing some recipes to help a couple of my neighbors who had chronic bothersome symptoms. One had sour stomach issues, another achy joints, another needed my recipe for calming the nerves. In the past I had tried to pass along the recipes to them. They said they had tried but said the recipe was never as helpful as when I did it. 

It was usually a happy chore to make my Sunday deliveries, but this morning proved to be a little more disturbing. Each person I visited was, as always, happy to see me but each also passed along that there were disturbing rumors being passed through the neighborhood grapevine about me. The rumors ranged from my being a little odd all the way to the accusation that children were not safe around me. My friends and I laughed about the ‘odd’ comment but the idea that I would ever harm a child was deeply painful to me. Everyone knows that rumors like that, regard less of the truth of them, can stick like a smudge of tar. 

On my way home, I stopped to visit an elderly couple I hadn’t spoken to in a while. They had also heard the rumors. I was flabbergasted and became determined to find the source. This was already out of hand, and it was very necessary for this bud to be nipped as soon as possible. 

By end of day all threads led to one source. Her name was Ranay Duprey. She was the mom who had just moved in with her son. There was no obvious reason for her to do this, and she must have started the rumors before I brought her child home. I knew myself well enough to know that I would have to confront her. Though it was unlikely to solve anything I needed to know, why? 

Over the next few days, I tried to catch her at home. I had no luck until one evening. When I knocked on her door the light in the front room came on and then, to my surprise, the door opened. Ranay did not look surprised to see me. In appearance she was forgettable, medium blond hair, even but plain features, colorless. So average as to disappear even when standing alone. 

“What are you doing on my doorstep?” she said.

“I think you know,” I replied. 

A malicious grin appeared on her face. “Have my rumors finally started to reach your ears then? It’s certainly taken longer than it should have.” 

“You wanted me to know it was you?”, I asked with surprise. 

“Well, of course.” A look of puzzlement crossed her face.

“But why? You don’t even know me. You’re trying to poison my reputation here and you don’t care if I know it’s you?” Now, it seemed, we were both perplexed.

“You really don’t know why, hmmm, that’s interesting.” As the door shut in my face I heard her mutter, “This will be easier than I thought.” The light in the front room went out.

I stood on her front stoop, stunned, for a very long moment. Then I meandered through the warm night air for quite a time trying to figure out what was going on. I came up with nothing. The only time we had met was when I had brought her son home. We had no history, no contact, nothing that I could see that connected us.

Over the next few weeks nothing became clearer. I spent a lot of time encouraging friends to, basically, defend my honor. Most of them were happy to do it when and where they could. It helped some but I didn’t know everyone and there were some people around who were bound to take the rumors as some sort of truth.

I rarely saw my new neighbors. Of course, I was more attentive than usual to their comings and goings due to Ranay’s curiously hostile behavior. It seemed odd to me that I hadn’t seen her son at all. There should have been trips to school, after school sports or clubs, friends over: but there was none of that. Ranay did have a dog, but he was pretty quiet. I only got occasional glimpses of him in her backyard and heard a rare short bark.

Then random, sad, and inconvenient events started to happen. I had a series of flat tires; someone ran off road into our front yard leaving deep ruts. I kept finding dead animals in the same area, some mangled in horrible ways. The plantings I had put in along my front sidewalk began to languish. It looked like every dog and cat had taken to peeing on them.

These events never encroached on my actual house or passed further than about fifteen feet into my yard. A bag of garbage had even been thrown at our house but none of it, happily, had passed that arbitrary line. 

Al spent much more time monitoring goings on in the front of our house. I put a folded blanket on the table where he had set up his new post to make him more comfortable. He seemed a lot more irritated and yet more conciliatory towards me as well. He alternated between batting my hand away when I tried to pet him and sitting cuddled up next to me when I was reading. When I’d leave for work, to run errands, or to visit friends he’d growl fiercely at me.

Our backyard continued to be the calm, seemingly safe, space it had always been. Al and I started to spend more time out there than ever. It was a special space full of an abundance of plants, flowers, and herbs. I had put in some dwarf fruit trees and, as Fall approached, the fruit was promising to be plentiful. The veggies were doing well too, and I had many a fine meal eating out of my own yard. There had been some new plant additions over the summer, and they were doing well. One that I didn’t remember planting had started to show its blooms. They looked like they were going to be a lovely shade of purple blue. In fact, the plant’s leaves had a little of the look of delphinium, which I loved. I needed to do a little research to remind myself what that was, I thought. Al came up as I was admiring the plant and laid a paw gently on one of its leaves and looked up at me enquiringly. “Don’t ask me,” I said and laughed. “I can’t remember what it is.” 

Al did a cat eye roll and gave a sigh. Sometimes living with Al was like living with a grumpy Aunt. 

That evening, as I listened to the early Fall bugs sounding in the yard, I realized how tense life had become. Al and I were both cross. We never knew what nasty thing we would find i n the 

front yard or what, at least inconvenient, thing would happen t o me when I left the protective circle of our home. It was hard to tell how much of this was just an unusual run of bad luck and how much was the result of Ranay’s apparent campaign to make my life miserable. In any case, I decided to confront her the next day. I sighed as I knew this had a snowball’s chance in Hell of helping. 

I crawled into bed that night exhausted from all the thinking and fell asleep instantly. Sometime, not much later, I woke abruptly. There was a feeling deep in my bones of a strong wrongness. I was throwing on clothes when I noticed Al was gone. It was worse than I thought. Al had never left my side when there was anything amiss. 

I ran down the hall looking all the way for Al. As I ran into t he sitting room, I heard Al hissing and yowling and, to my surprise, a dog growling. Hastily I unlocked the back door and ran across the back deck. I was expecting to have to save Al from a vicious dog. I found, not a fight between them, but a united front. They stood shoulder to shoulder facing down the driveway, both obviously poised for a confrontation. Except for the dog and Al ’s low growls the night was beyond still. The streetlights emitted a muddled murky light. I ran to the corner and looked down the driveway. It was not clear what they were growling at, but something had to be there. I tried to move in front of Al and his new friend, but they were having none of it . They steadfastly remained in front of me with their attention focused down the d rive toward the street. 

So, I had to stop behind them. I too focused my eyes down the d rive. Gradually I began to see. At first it looked like a brownish smudge of fog. Vaguely, within that fog, a figure could be seen. As unclear as the look of it w as, the feeling it was directing towards us was unequivocal. It meant the worst o f harm to us, much pain followed by death. 

I struggled to control my fearful shaking. I had no idea what t o do but knew that I must control my thoughts, to somehow do something, to fig ht this apparition. As I calmed myself, I began to feel a warm tingling in my body. It started all over and, as it grew, a strong energy began to flow up through my body from the ground below me. The more energy that came to me the calmer I became. I drew it up, storing it under my ribs. I placed my hands flat on my chest, and then, as if throwing a ball, I flung my hands toward the fog and yelled, “Begone!”. The energy leapt through the air toward the figure, leaving surf-like ripples through the air. As it contacted the fog there was a yowl of pain and rage, the thing exploded and disappeared. It was as if it had never been there. The streetlight brightened, and the insects began their normal conversations. 

There was a quiet pause, then I looked at Al and the dog. They both turned to me and, I swear, they both seemed to be grinning. “I think she’s going to faint, ” said the dog. And I did. 

When I woke up, I was on my back, and two pairs of eyes were staring at me. One pair belonged to Al and the other to the young boy I had led to Rana y’s house. “Hello,” said the boy, “my name is Markee.” I tried to get up, but Al jumped onto my chest and meowed questioningly as he peered into my eyes. When he seemed content I was OK Al jumped off and Markee grabbed my arm and helped me up. 

We went over and onto the deck. Al sat on the end of the lounge chair with his tail curled around his body. Markee and I sat in two of the deck chairs. I was at a loss for words. 

All I could think of to say was, “Where did the dog go?” Al and Markee looked at each other and then seemed to have a short conversation, Markee spoke in English while Al made various cat sounds. Then Markee turned to me and began to explain. “I have to talk fast,” he said. “As soon as Ranay recovers I’ll return to my dog form, and you won’t be able to understand me. She’s a very powerful witch and this is how she controls me. The only one who can change me back is her. I’m sorry for tricking you into taking me to her house. I had to. She said she would never let me be a boy ever again,” a tear crept down his cheek. “She needed to get close to you to get a better reading of your power. When you seemed so clueless she was really happy. She’s been doing all kinds of things to you ever since. She thinks it’s funny. Today she decided she was bored with it all. Her plan tonight was a big assault to get through the wards on your house and then to get rid of you and Al.”

“How did wards get on my house?” I asked.

“You made them, well, you with the help of Al. Every time you worked in your garden or made one of your recipes for your neighbors I could see the magic rising. It looks like a shimmering cloud. After a while your house became surrounded by this haze of protective magic. For Ranay, you might as well have put a big neon sign blinking “A witch lives here!” on top of your house. She doesn’t understand why you don’t know what you are. After a while she quit caring and just wanted to get rid of you. She really hates you. How come you don’t know?”

I shrugged and Al began meow lecturing to Markee. “Oh,” Markee said. “Al says usually witches like you, who have a big connection to the earth and all growing things, are not so powerful. So, a lot of times, those witches’ parents will do sort of a mind wipe on them when they’re young, so they can stay hidden more easily. Then when the kids get old enough to understand the parents usually remove the wipe and explain the situation and teach the young witch how to protect themselves.”

“My parents died together in a car crash when I was very young,” I said.

“That explains it,” Markee said. “I guess they didn’t have time. Anyway, the bigger problem with you is that you are very powerful and don’t hide it at all. I get why now, but Ranay thought you were just trying to taunt her. So that’s why she came here. She loves to battle with what she calls ‘do-gooder’ witches. And you weren’t even hiding yourself at all! You make her really mad!”

“Late this afternoon, when she started making potions and chanting so she could attack you two, she was distracted. I snuck out when I could and came to talk to Al. I’ve been watching you both all this time and you all seem really nice, and you helped me when you thought I was sad. Even if I stay a dog forever I have to help.” Al nodded and gave a reassuring meow. “Anyway, Al knew I wasn’t all dog, so he listened, decided I wasn’t a liar, and let me pass your wards. Then Al and I made a plan so we could defend you. We would have woken you up but figured you wouldn’t be much help, you know, considering you knew nothing about your power but wow, we were wrong. You were awesome!”

Al did more meowing and Markee said, “we have to act fast now. Al says, you have to figure out how to eliminate Ranay. He says figure out what that new plant is and use it in combination with the pennyroyal and some hemlock. He knows you found some of that close by. You need to rest up and do lots and lots of research. He says you can find lots of info still in a bigger library. He says maybe you can find other witches around to help but that you have to be really careful to make sure they’re safe before you talk to them. Then you say the right words, the right gestures and use the potion while using all of your power against her. You did enough last night to dissipate her because she was in another form and didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. Al says that made her weaker, so you were able to defeat her and also that we won’t be so lucky next time.” 

“Uh oh,” Markee said with eyes growing large. “Ranay must be co ming back, I feel myself changing.” Markee became surrounded by what looked like little sparkles. “Please, please, let me stay with you and Al!, “he pleaded and with a pop turned back into his dog form. 

“Of course, you can and will stay with us,” I said to the medium size mottled gray dog standing next to me. Markee woofed once and gave his tail a wag. 

We were all exhausted. After a long time, I convinced myself it was safe for us to sleep because Ranay was, probably, still pretty weak. We all cudd led up on the bed and had a short but welcome deep rest. 

We knew now we would have little time to prepare for Ranay’s next move. She knew I knew her dog boy had abandoned her for me, and Al had turned out to be more than she bargained for too. She had to be angry and determined. We also knew the sooner we moved the more we could capitalize on what damage we had caused her. I would have to save my confusion over being a witch, (Really, a witch?!) for later. 

A few days later we were as ready as we felt we had time to be. Al and I had worked out a rudimentary means of communicating, composed mostly of me showing him info I’d found and him hissing or purring to indicate yes or no. There were also the few scratches given when my stupidity became just too much for him. 

Markee became our lookout. He had established his sentry position at the front storm door and took it very seriously. More than one delivery p erson had the wits scared out of them by Markee’s enthusiastic defense. Al and I a greed he was doing a fine job especially for one so young. 

Ranay did make it hard for us. We had to stay within the bounda ries of our house to stay safe. Sometimes we would see her pacing the street opposite our house like a caged animal. The only reason Markee and I didn’t freak out about it was because Al seemed so calm. In retrospect I’d say Al had been faking a bit. 

Searches for information had to be done via the internet. On occasion Ranay would interfere with that or send us fake info. Al always knew when some bit of fact was suspect. It must have had some kind of magical glimmer when he looked at it. When the signal was down Al and I would work in the yard and gather ingredients. We also had potion construction practice. Additional smacks by Al were plentiful as I tried to put ingredients together in the right way at the right time and at the right temperature. If we made it through the Ranay thing my first spell after would be one to help Al and I communicate without scratches. 

We waited too long, of course. Monday morning, we woke to a gray rainy day. Water washed down the window in mesmerizing rivulets. We were all gathered at the dining room table trying to check for flaws in our proposed assault to defeat Ranay. We wanted to get her close to the magical boundaries of the house. We hoped the wards would protect us from at least some of the harm Ranay’s spells would cause. 

I think Al noticed it first. There was a gradually growing sense of unease. The air seemed to be thickening to the point of making breathing difficult. I moved toward the back door and was about to open it when I was hit by two flying balls of fur. Al and Markee had knocked me to the floor. As I lay flattened they, as one, turned to look out the door’s window. I followed their gaze and saw Ranay floating not two feet away fro m the bottom of the deck steps. 

This was bad, so very very bad. How had she passed the boundary? And how had she gotten so far into the yard without us noticing. I watched as the plants on either side of the step s started to wilt, then turn brown and then fall away into ash. Ranay was surrounded by a sickly aura of canned pea green punctured with veins of writhing black. A triumphant grin hung upon her face. It was a whisper, but we all heard it so clearly, “Come out and play.” 

I felt pain in my arm. Al had bitten me. Thank God, as it had broken my thoughtless shock. I ran to the kitchen where the potions and tools we had put together were waiting. I gathered them up and shoved them into my pockets. 

Trying so hard to remember, as I did so, the order they were supposed to be in. Markee and Al were growling at the door. Ranay had not advanced. Were the wards closer to the house stronger? I dared to hope but did notice that more of my beloved gardens were beginning to wilt.

Markee, Al and I were as ready as time would allow. I stepped to the door and this time I went out first to meet Ranay. Markee and Al took their place, one on either side of me. Ranay laughed and said, “What a motley crew you are. You can’t defeat me this time. I’m older, wiser and far more powerful than even the three of you combined.” Saying this, with a negligent wave of her hand she threw us all off the deck and into the shrubs.

It was a painful landing but worth it as landing in the shrubs gave us a little cover and time to regroup. As planned we separated. Al started to slink under the porch towards Ranay at the steps. Markee used the cover of the shrubs to move to the left. My way was less clear as I could not move forward with the porch and railing blocking me. I reached into a pocket and withdrew a vial and threw it at Ranay. It hit her squarely in the chest and exploded covering her with a gummy ichor. I had enough time to clamber over the railing and onto the deck.

Immediately upon landing I was hit with another magical blow that threw me into the side of the house. Al and Markee both chose that time to attack Ranay from either side. They were more successful than I had been but when she recovered she dealt them both painful blows. I saw my friends lying on the deck. Markee looked dazed and Al, much worse, had a terrible gash on his side. He struggled to rise but it was too much and he sank back. Ranay began to laugh, “Easier than I expected,” she cackled.

She floated toward me and I made a gesture. A gesture I had never made before but one that felt almost more natural to me than breathing. Ranay began to sink toward the earth. The closer she came to the earth the stronger I felt. Once again I felt the power gathering in my chest and I stood. Ranay made a cutting gesture towards me, and I felt searing pain. But the power was rising now fully from the earth, filling me with strength. Now I stood before her upright and outraged at the harm she had caused to my friends. I reached deep into my pocket and brought forth a little bound bundle of herbs, flowers and one tiny twig. I held them prayerfully in the palm of my hand and blew gently across them towards Ranay. A pale gold and spring green mist floated towards her. She laughed and began to raise her hands to create her own sigil but the mist by then had gently started to curl around her fingers. With shock she tried to move and found her hands trapped. She tried to speak a curse, but the mist had reached her lips and silenced her. The mist became darker green, purple curls began to move through it and the golden glow became brighter. The more she struggled the stronger the mist became, enveloping her and wrapping around her throat, trapping her arms and legs.

The moment she touched the ground there was very little to be seen of her. The mist had created a cocoon around her, and though she struggled she could not break free. At that moment I hesitated. Immediately her arm broke free and with cunning swiftness she grabbed Markee by his throat. Her other arm broke free and in that hand was a knife. At the beginning of the arc of a killing blow my resolve returned. The mist gathered her again, the knife fell, Markee fell to the ground. I finished her. It was not enough to encase her, as had been the intent. I had felt her hatred of all that was growing and good through the connection of the mist. In the end no mercy could be given, I let the mist destroy her. 

In the end the mist had rendered Ranay into the smallest and most innocent of particles that returned her to the earth. There was work that had to be done in the gardens to repair the damage her toxic presence had brought but we did it. 

Our physical injuries we could take care of. Al took longer to recover because of the severity of his wounds. Markee had a very sore throat and we all had multiple bruises, cuts and probably slight concussions. 

Markee returned to his boy form as soon as Ranay’s ashes were disbursed but still could not remember his past. We had lost a dog companion but, as far as the neighborhood was concerned, we had gained a nephew. No one in the neighborhood had seen him that one day when Ranay used him as bait, which wa s one of the few strokes of luck we had had. 

It was hard for him to adapt for a while, and still is a bit. H e still can’t remember his pre-Ranay life but all in all, he’s happy. And he either had magic in his before-life or some of it rubbed off on him when he was with Ranay. The boy is developing skills. 

As for me, meeting my very dark side has changed me in ways I a m still discovering. Al, Markee and I hold each other up most days but it’s sometimes quite rough. 

For a while no one noticed that Ranay was gone. When it was clear that her house was abandoned there was an investigation, but since there were no signs of violence the police gradually gave it up as a mystery. Some people in the neighborhood accused me of having something to do with her disappearance but my friends squashed those rumors. Funny how when the rumors were false nothing could be done and now, when they were true, people didn’t believe them. 

We decided to move. Al and I eventually fixed the communication thing though he still scratches on occasion. We agreed that I had probably left a trail of magic behind me wherever I went. A trail that would lead other, possibly bad, witches right to us. I studied how to cover my tracks and we figured out a safer place for us to live. 

I’m still not used to this, but I have Al and Markee to think o f, and that helps. We have so much to learn, and we all feel an urgency to learn as quickly as we can. None of us wants to be caught unawares again if we can help it. 

I know I can never contact any of my old friends no matter how much I miss them. Though they do often receive little care packages to fit their needs. They were kind and, after all, no on e can make the recipes like I can.