Begin Again...and Again

Sometimes it's hard to set down roots

Created on Midjourney

Agatha had changed with the times. It was a matter of survival. Gone were the long, black skirts and the other accoutrements of a witch. Living centuries meant adapting. And she was very good at adapting.

But not aging meant she couldn’t set down real roots. Not for more than twenty years or so, anyway. Sticking around for even that long was difficult, since Gyb, her cat, didn’t age either. She had found a fix for that problem by having Gyb “die” at a ripe old age and then, miraculously, finding an identical cat in a shelter.

Agatha had grown weary of this nomadic life. She had found a partial solution by moving to New York. The city was so large that she could disappear into it, moving to a new borough far enough removed from the previous one to effectively hide from anyone who had known her in her previous existence.

Of course, she had to periodically “die” herself, thus creating the need for new government ID. It was all a pain, really. However, it worked for her. She could have chosen to live within the witching community, hidden from humans. But what would be the fun in that?

It all worked for her. Until it hadn’t. She had really regretted having to leave Frederick behind. She had fallen in love with him late into her stay in Manhattan and had to leave a few years later.

And now, here she was, face to face with him on Staten Island, after telling him she was moving to France. Not surprisingly, he looked utterly shocked to see her. And maybe a little worried.

Was he here to see another woman? Had he replaced her already? Her own anxiety disappeared into anger. He had told her he loved her. And she had only been gone a week.

“Uh…Hi, Agatha…I thought you had moved to Paris.”

“And I thought you never came to Staten Island,” Agatha said, taking the offensive. “What are you doing here?”

Frederick’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Agatha, furious at his wordless confession, let a little flame show in her eyes. She was going to have to leave here again, anyway. Maybe this time she really would go spend a century or so in France.

Ready to launch into a tirade to throw Frederick off balance and give herself an excuse to storm off, Agatha found her own mouth hanging open wordlessly as his face lit up in a smile. What the…

“Witch.” Frederick said, pulling her into a crushing hug. “How did I miss that you were a witch?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Agatha’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape route as she tried to disentangle herself from his arms.

“You’re here to segue into a new life, aren’t you?”

“How would you know?” Agatha spat out, forgetting to deny the truth of his statement.

“Because I’m doing the same thing.”

Agatha stopped squirming. “Warlock?”

“Warlock,” Frederick answered, sounding happier than Agatha had ever heard him. “Why don’t we lose ourselves together?”

Agatha melted against him, allowing him to envelop her more fully in his embrace. “Just as long as Gyb gets to come along for the ride.”

---

This story is one I wrote based on the image. I had been creating images of witches on Midjourney. Some of them looked like traditional witches, some didn’t.

Agatha was a common name during the 1600s. I had to look up cat names from that period. I learned on Medievalists.net that Gyb, short for Gilbert, was used both for cats as a species and as a name for individual cats.

I guess this is really a witchness protection program story. I’m glad these two found each other! (Or should I say three. Mustn’t forget Gyb!)