Western Walkabout: The Witch, Evgenia
...She spoke into the ball, “I am from a long line of successful Russian witches. My mother has brought me up in the traditions of modern medicine. My grandmother taught me the old ways.
“I am beautiful, well educated. I have a good job, lovely friends, I live in two worlds but something is missing.”...
The missing ingredient in the witch's life is a man, as this intriguing tale from Richard Harris reveals.
The witch, Evgenia, sat looking into her crystal ball under the shade of a walnut tree.
She was warm and relaxed in the afternoon sun.
She spoke into the ball, “I am from a long line of successful Russian witches. My mother has brought me up in the traditions of modern medicine. My grandmother taught me the old ways.
“I am beautiful, well educated. I have a good job, lovely friends, I live in two worlds but something is missing.”
There was a chittering in the branch above her head.
“Those squirrels are everywhere,” she said.
She looked into the ball and said, “In a land far away among the trees lives a man who will love me.”
She made a ward in the air, moving her hands quickly and deftly and spoke the ancient words of command. “Tell me of him. Show him to me.”
The glass went opaque, and a heart shaped leaf in red and gold fell to the ground beside her.
She looked up into the tree and what she had thought was a squirrel was a serious little man, ancient and wise, who regarded her gravely.
“There is much about you that is serious and interesting,” the little man said. “I know your destiny. I know the man to whom you refer. There is a fee, payable immediately.”
Evgenia reached into her pocket and produced a sugared almond, which she handed up to the man.
He accepted it with a nod of thanks. “I’ll enjoy it later,” he said. “Fairy folk consider it uncouth to eat in front of strangers.”
He smiled at her. “The man you seek is older than you. He has been a good athlete and lives alone with a highly intelligent cat. He is excellent with trees and that’s how I know about him. The trees have told me. They like him.
“His name is Richard.” There was a flash of sunlight, Evgenia blinked, and the little man was gone.
Her crystal ball had cleared. “Richard, where are you?” she told it. “Talk to me.”
A strange voice answered in English,” Hi, darl. How’re you going? All right?”
Evgenia was breathless. Amazing, she thought. “Where are you? Tell me about yourself? Where do you live? What did you have for breakfast?”
He laughed. It was a lean face, with a light tan, hazel eyes, a runner’s body.
“I’m Down Under, in Perth, Western Australia – where God comes for His holidays,” said Richard.
“I live in a small house 12km from the city, south of the river. For breakfast, I usually have porridge with sultanas and nuts, or something with berries. I like black coffee and a glass of orange juice but in the cold weather I eat my own mandarins and oranges.”
The connection broke and the crystal ball clouded.
Evgenia found that the concentration and the English had given her a headache. She used an ancient Chinese treatment, pressing the median power lines at her temples, then the median point between the thumb and forefinger to ease the pressure.
Thoughtfully, she picked up her ball, put it in her bag, and went home.
Her life had taken on a new dimension.
