A November Witching Hour

Part I

It was the witching hour: a time to celebrate or a time to pray. The small town of Breton lay in the bosom of the Devine Woods. Only one walled road lead from the town, and along it two girls now walked. Someone coming at them from behind had never yet been able to tell them apart for both had brown hair to the bottom of their shoulder blades, and always wore skinny jeans with a brightly colored T-shirt. They were equally athletic in form, and lyrical in motion and gesture. It was in the face that one saw the difference.

Addison’s eyes were of that color that is sometimes blue and sometimes green depending on what it sees, and her mouth was set in a way that bespoke a woman who always said what was on her mind. However, very little of what was in Addison’s mind was her own.

Reilly’s eyes were a deep brown, and in her face no one ever found an accusation. What they did find if they looked down into her eyes was a sadness, for she took everything personal for good or ill, and if they looked beyond that a lioness stared back. The pair took their walk along the lonely road as often as they could, as they both felt more at home among the bright colors of the forest then among the drab, dark tones of downtown. But now it was November and the woods were as dead as the town. For the last two weeks their walks had grown more frequent and they stayed out later, though never before as late as they did tonight. The small world of Breton was growing smaller, and they were suffocating under the pressure.

Addison zipped up her black hoodie, and said in as close to a normal voice as she dared in the dark forest, “You’re not hearing me, Reilly. That’s not what I meant.”

Reilly thought for a moment.

“It’s not what you mean now, but that’s where it’ll eventually lead.”

“C’mon. We’ve been the revolutionaries in this town for 18 years and everyone’s put up with us.”

“They all thought we’d grow out of it, but we kept ourselves together.” And never before had either of them questioned the goodness of a founder of the town.

“Exactly, but now you’re leaving me behind.”

Reilly stopped, and looked Adds in the eyes.

“I never meant to. You know me. I like asking questions.”

“I know. I’m asking you to listen to their answers.”

“I have.” Reilly took both Adds’ hands in hers. “And believe me, I’ve tried to convince myself they’re right, but I just can’t make myself believe in them.” They had been friends since before they were born as their parents had been a foursome since high school. They had been raised as sisters, and shared everything. For the sake of that, Reilly added in a whisper, “They’re hiding something.”

Addison yanked her hands away, her left hand going to her forehead, and she walked a few steps forward. Reilly stared after her, shocked. Addison whipped back around.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t about reason or logic. This is about faith. You’ve known the elders your whole life. For gods’ sake, your mother’s one of them. Don’t you think they have our best interests at heart?” Her eyes blazed.

Reilly willed her friend to understand. She gave a tiny smile, her eyes glassy, and she said softly, like the sound of a knife through bread, “No, I don’t.”

Addy shook her head, and laughed.

“So typical.” She took off in a dead sprint down the last several yards of the road into town.

Reilly dragged her fingers through her hair, then raised the back of her hand to her lips. Tears slipped down her cheeks, staining them with eyeliner and mascara. She bit the side of her index finger to hold back her sobs. She hadn’t asked to be this way. She knew the bliss of ignorance, but could never let herself be satisfied with it. She began to walk after Addison, her pace picking up with her thoughts. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of here! She reached the first house of her pretty neighborhood, and began to run. She had to go. Images of the limitless possibilities of the world outside flipped through her mind like she was looking through those binoculars with pics of Paris in them that kids played with.

She ran past her house then slowed to a fast walk. She reached main street. She couldn’t leave. It would be so selfish. Her parents and little brother would forever bare the mask of a family who had borne someone who was discontent with Breton. She couldn’t do that to her brother, who couldn’t even yet speak to defend himself. She couldn’t spoil his innocence before he even had a chance.

She stopped, feeling weight of her knowledge sinking her into the earth. She had walked all the way down main-street, and stood in front of town hall. She looked up at the brick building to the gold-plated tip of its steeple. She resolved to grin and bare it. She would keep her questions and her doubts for solely her own solitary reflections. That would be the end of it for a while.