“Do you sell weed?” the man asked in a loud whisper, his hand cupped to the side of his mouth.
This didn’t surprise me. I got asked this question at least three times a day at the farmers market. Every time, I told them the same thing.
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Try the booth over there.” I pointed across the walkway to my friend Nigel’s booth. There was a sign hanging off the display table in front that said ‘CBD Oil’ in huge bold letters. The man would be disappointed when he found out that Nigel literally only had CBD oil, nothing stronger. “Is weed even legal in this state?” I asked.
“Um, I think so,” the man said. “Thanks.” He gave me a wink before he turned to try his luck across the walkway.
I shook my head and began rearranging my potion bottles, trying some of my mother’s merchandising tips by alternating colors for a visual pop. At my booth, Jade’s Magic Potions, I sold potions with all-natural ingredients. Love potions were my top seller, but I also made some for success, happiness, luck, focus, and serenity, among other things. I sold my potions at the farmers market and at my mom’s novelty shop, Strange Magic.
You’ve got me. I’m a witch. Not the ugly, old, hunched over with warts and green skin kind of witch, but a witch nonetheless. Please don’t burn me at the stake or try to build a bridge out of me. I assure you, I’m a good witch, like Glinda in the Wizard of Oz, only less sparkly.
I come from a family of witches. The normal people – the ordinary, everyday, non-magical people – didn’t know about our powers, and we hoped to keep it that way. So, why the potions and the magic shop? Mom’s philosophy was to hide in plain sight. Most people thought it was a joke or that we were just odd. We were okay with that.
My potions were ten percent magic and about ninety percent packaging. I found that potions sold better in colorful bottles with corks and ribbon and packaged in fun gift baskets. Young ladies particularly liked to pick up love potions or my newest Hot Honeymoon Night potion as gag gifts for the bride. To be honest, there was nothing magical in the Hot Honeymoon Night. It was just sugar water but it sold well in my Bachelorette Basket.
My booth was right next to my Granny’s produce stand. I forgot to mention, Mom and her mom, my Granny, had no magical powers. But they embraced the magic lifestyle 100%.
On this mid-September morning, business was brisk. Everyone stopped at Granny Smith’s stand because her produce was the best. She had a green thumb and a talent for upselling. While they were there, some shoppers ventured over to my booth out of curiosity. My Halloween themed potions were selling well. If nothing else, they would make great decorations.
I was so busy rearranging my merchandise that I was startled a short while later by a deep, male voice.
“You’ve got to stop sending me these stoners,” Nigel said. “They’re just looking to get high.”
My heart did a flip and I turned to smile at Nigel. He smiled back. “Sorry about that. I just never know what to say to them.”
“You could sell them a potion,” he said, glancing over my displays. A slight breeze blew his wavy chestnut hair away from his chiseled face. Not that I was noticing.
At that moment, Fletcher bounded up. Fletcher was another vendor and had been my friend since fourth grade when his policeman father got transferred here. He helped out at his mother’s booth, selling her jams and jellies. He ambled up, all 140 pounds of gangly eighteen-year-old boy, and slung his arm around Nigel’s shoulder. “Hey roomie, whazzup?” He was out of breath having rushed over.
Recently Fletcher had moved into the dorms at the local university. He and I graduated high school back in June. Unlike Fletcher, I was not jumping right into college. This was my gap year.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Nigel asked.
“Oh, nowhere,” Fletcher said, shaking his head, his unruly honey-colored curls bouncing in the sunlight. “Nice day, right?” Awkwardly, he pulled his arm away from Nigel and clasped his hands together.
Just then, Nigel noticed my new bridal gift basket on the counter. “What do we have here?” he asked as he fingered the merchandise. He read the labels, “Embarrassing Family Elixir, Wedding Jitters Cure, and oh hey.” He picked up the bottle of Hot Honeymoon Night and shook it, giving me a suggestive grin. “What do you say you and me do some quality control on this little bottle?”
I giggled and felt the color rising in my face. I took the potion from him. “Don’t joke around, that’s part of a set.” I replaced the potion in the basket.
Nigel chuckled. “You just say the word, I’m here to help.”
Fletcher cleared his throat, reminding us of his presence. “Actually, Jade. I came to tell you I can’t go with you to the magic show this afternoon. Sorry, I’ve got to man the booth. Mom’s doing some shopping.” He shook his head disappointedly.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I can go by myself.” I looked up at Nigel hopefully. “Unless, you’d like to come.”
Nigel laughed. “To the magic show? No thanks. That’s for little kids.”
I laughed too. “Yeah, it’s kind of lame. I’m just going to help out Scarlett. It’s her first booking as the official event coordinator for the market.” The truth was, I loved magic shows. I liked to try and figure out how the illusions were done.
Granny leaned over from her booth. “Isn’t it almost time for the magic show now?”
I looked up and noticed parents pulling their little ones across to the other side of the market where a small stage was set-up. My cousin Scarlett had booked a traveling magician to put on a show for the kiddoes. She was working part time scheduling events and activities. She was also a student at the university.
“Oh, yeah. I’d better go. Can you watch my booth?” I asked.
Gran smiled. “Absolutely. You go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on things for you.”
“I’ve got to git,” Fletcher said as he turned to leave.
“Have fun,” Nigel said before he made his way back across the walkway to his own booth.
“Thanks, Gran,” I said as I untied my money belt and handed it to her. “I won’t be long.”
I made my way over to the open area on the other side of the market where the children were sitting in neat little rows in front of the stage. The parents were hanging back, enjoying cups of coffee or apple cider.
I noticed an old-style gypsy wagon several feet away, to the side of the stage. It was painted bright orange with black trim and fun Halloween themed images here and there, a black cat, a full moon, a witch on a broomstick. I had to roll my eyes. What a cliché. A large carved Jack-o-Lantern sat on the back step by the door. Across the side, in big purple lettering were the words: Claude the Astonishing. Under that, in smaller, pink, glittery letters were the words: And Giselle. How cheesy.
Behind the gathered children, there were a few wooden benches where a handful of moms were sitting. I took a seat and waited for the show to begin.
My cousin Scarlett, a redhead like me, glided onto the stage in a trim waisted emerald green dress with a flared skirt that swayed when she walked. I wondered if I could pull off a look like that.
Scarlett went to the center of the stage and looked out at the group. She then clapped her hand three times to get everyone’s attention. The children and parents quieted down, and all eyes were on Scarlett. Did she use a little magic to get their attention? Maybe.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. Today the Oak Woods Farmers Market is proud to present the amazing magical talent of Claude the Astonishing and his lovely assistant, Giselle!” Scarlett was going for full theatrics, projecting her voice so everyone could hear and ending with a flourish. She held her arm out to the right and all eyes turned to the little gypsy wagon.
We waited. Nobody came through the door.
Scarlett cleared her throat and spoke louder this time. “Let’s give a warm welcome to Claude the Astonishing and his assistant, Giselle.” She began clapping her hands. I began clapping my hands. Everyone else joined in.
Nobody came through the door.
Scarlett smiled nervously and gave me an uneasy look that said, “help me.”
I stood up and walked over to the wagon. “I’m just going to knock,” I said to the group as I approached the wagon. I didn’t have the stage presence of Scarlett, but somebody needed to get this guy out the door. Probably he hadn’t heard the introduction.
I knocked on the door. I turned and smiled nervously at the crowd. I gave it a moment, then I knocked again, more loudly this time. “Yoohoo, Claude,” I called out. “It’s time for the magic show.”
Nothing.
I turned back to the group. All eyes were on me now. I smiled nervously.
“Try the door!” Scarlett said through her own nervous smile.
“I’ll just try the door,” I said to the kids with a little shrug.
I turned the knob, expecting it to be locked. The handle turned and I opened the door tentatively. “Hello,” I called out as I poked my head into the wagon. The inside seemed deserted. A round table in the middle took up most of the space. There was a purple magician’s hat on the table. Red velvet cloth covered the walls and colorful beads hung across the opening to the other end of the small space. “Anybody here?” I called out. “It’s time for the magic show.”
I stepped further in and immediately knew there would be no magic show today.
A man dressed in a purple jacket with a green waistcoat lay motionless on the floor on the other side of the table. His unseeing eyes were wide open in a look of terror. A large, ornate, jewel encrusted dagger was protruding from his chest and a pool of blood had formed on the floor around him.
I stood staring, in complete shock. My mind was racing.
I heard someone come in through the door behind me and turned. A beautiful dark-haired woman in a bright sparkly orange vest, tight black shorts, and fishnet stockings came into the room. It could only be Giselle.
Green Witch Mean Time - Episode 1
“What is the hold-up?” Giselle said in a thick French accent. She looked down and saw Claude lying on the floor. The next thing I heard from Giselle was a sharp, piercing scream. She ran from the wagon.
I followed close behind.
“He’s dead,” Giselle screamed, “Claude is dead! He’s been killed!”
The place erupted into chaos. The children began screaming and running in all directions. Parents rushed to gather up their little ones. I stood in the doorway of the wagon and locked eyes with Scarlett.
Claude the Astonishing had been astonishingly murdered.
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