A Careless Witch

I peek through the clothes and Jocelyn, Marcy and Everly emerge. They leave the room, and I can hear their footsteps travel down the halls and out the side exit.

The door remains ajar and sounds of someone tidying up can be heard. After a few minutes of this, Sable exits, shuts the door behind her and locks it.

She walks towards me. I freeze. Has she seen my feet, heard my breathing?

She moves clothes along the rack until she finds what she seeks. She shifts around a purple gown and pulls out the skirt of it. She drops something and curses. I see it.

A key.

She grabs it and messes with the purple costume again for a moment then lets go of it. She sets the lock on the doorknob to the main room, shuts off the light and closes the door behind her. I wait, still crouched low, until I’m sure she’s left the theater. I rummage through the purple costume and find a pocket with the key she dropped in. I scoop it out.
I tiptoe to the closet. Insert the key. Turn. Open. Light switch.
There’s a round velveteen throw rug in the middle of the floor. Four white tea light candles and other items surround the rug at equal intervals, as if making a square within the circle. At each corner of the room, a sheet of paper is scotch taped to the wall. There’s a W, an S, E and N. Beside each candle on the floor is one item, a silver hand bell, a seashell, a pink rock, a used incense holder. The smell of it still hangs in the air, a musty flowery scent. The desk pushed against the back wall is covered in candles, a black pot, framed photos and pictures, stones, gathered groups of twigs, books.
I step around the throw rug to scan the items up close. “1000 Spells, Grimoire, Magick” - spelled with a k at the end of the word, I notice – and “Witchery,” are the words that jump out at me from their covers as I flip through the books. I notice the cauldron (How do I know that’s the proper word for it? Somehow, I just know.) contains some melted wax in it. I’m drawn to it. I want to reach in and pick it up but it feels sacrilegious to make physical contact with it.
And then I see it. It’s actually a piece of paper covered in wax. And through the wax I see my name.
Everything else surrounding me disappears from my view for a moment as my awareness dips down into that black cauldron where my name lies bound at its bottom. Dots appear at the edge of my vision. I shake my head and force myself to breathe, fully and deeply and slowly.
This is bad.
I’d like to sit. There is no chair in this strange small room. I’d carefully stepped around their rug but now that my name lies encased in a witch’s brew, all bets are off. I kick off my shoes and step into the circle. I sit at its middle. Okay. No lightning bolts. I close my eyes and breathe. I feel chills, energy, a flow of excitement.
Mother Earth, Dear Gaia
Father Sky, Great Cosmos
And the world returns, return return
I open my eyes. I cannot say if I only heard the words in my mind or also said them aloud. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. I stand up and hop out of the circle. I step into my shoes, flip the light switch and leave this place. I lock up, slip the key back into the pocket of the purple gown. I rush to the door, press in the button in the middle of the doorknob, turn out the light and exit. I look up and down the hallway, making sure I’m still alone. My footsteps echo in this empty place that was so alive just a few hours ago.

Why did I come back?