There Flies the Witch by Mayonn Paasewe-Valchev

Author:Mayonn Paasewe-Valchev
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-03-24T00:00:00+00:00

22

One day

Two days

Three days

A few days

Four days

Five days

Six days

Seven days

Eight days

Nine days

A few days

Ten days

Eleven days

Twelve days

Thirteen days

Fourteen days

Fifteen days

More than a few days now

Sixteen days

Seventeen days

Eighteen days

Nineteen days

Twenty days

Twenty-one days

Today

23

Wheels groan and squeal as Ma pushes the bicycle up the hill. The metal saddle is cold when I hop on. Coil my arms around Ma’s waist. Feel her peddling away.

Ride down a path hidden between thickets of stinging nettles. Turn a corner and see a foul-smelling bay spewing manatee grass. Behind us, the sun sets below the sea. Maybe Yakaka’s watching the sunset, too. Maybe not. Plenty days have passed, and Yakaka hasn’t returned. Part of me thinks Yakaka flew to our cave to rest like Ma said she did, and she’ll return soon. Part of me thinks she’s gone for good, and I’m forever stuck here. I don’t want to listen to that part, because it makes my stomach boil and my heart hurt. I’d rather listen to the part that says Yakaka is coming back. That part of me is brave and hopeful.

Turn left onto another path and ride toward a part of the island I haven’t seen before. The bay fades behind us. The sea hides below the hills. Rubos can’t come with us, Ma says. His foot is still swollen. I wish he could.

Past a grove of waxy-looking berry trees, past empty farmland with an old windmill.

We ride on, the evening wind blowing behind us. Pass an empty barn. Then nothing for a while. Then something. Peer around Ma and see a little cottage with gopher apple shrubs growing beside it. Alone it stands in a pasture. Feel Ma peddling hurriedly. Hear the jars in her sack clinking and clanking.

Reach the cottage. See that it’s old and worn and quite crooked. Bits of wood have peeled off. Rot grows underneath its skin. Two windows gleam at us. There isn’t a door, only a stony path leading to an archway leading inside.

“What’s this place?” I ask Ma.

See Ma’s dark eyes turning bright. See the worry marks on her skin smooth. See her looking content like Yakaka after she mends a land. “Come inside and see.”

Follow Ma inside. Smell dust and sand and sea and sunshine and nighttime. See plenty of shelves. The whole cabin is nothing but shelves holding jars filled with beautiful treasures. Hundreds and hundreds of jars. Yellow dried flowers stuffed in that one. Glittering sand over there. Shiny sea pebbles in that one.

Feel my heart glow. Feel a smile fill my face. “What’s all this?”

“Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. So many jars. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven . . .”

Ma smiles, watching me count. Her eyes sparkle. “Look inside them.”

Stop counting and wonder which one to look in first. Pick one filled with orange whelks. Squeeze a whelk out and press it against my ears. Hear the whispers of the sea living inside. Put the whelks back and pluck another jar off the shelf. “What’s in this one?”

“Shining crab stones.”

“What about this one?”

“Aging eggfruit seeds.

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