Something Different: The Wicked and the Healer

Margaret Hamilton as the Witch in the 1939 fil...

Margaret Hamilton as the Witch in the 1939 film version (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The winged monkeys with mohawks
swinging from the twisted, thunder-struck trees were sufficient warning of what I was about to face, but, being
one who honors commitments and abhors tardiness, I continued on towards the entrance wheeling my massage table behind me.  When she opened the front door, it was obvious that I was in for a challenge.  Where would I even start?  The green skin alone, was her tone inherited or had her poor liver been pummeled into submission by anger and toxins?  What had caused her back’s misalignment?   Was it decades of anxious forward striving that had curved her into a scythe, or was it a congenital defect?  Then there were the control issues evident in the severe angles of her chin and brows and the excessive ambition revealed in her disproportionately long nose.  I put the face-reading on hold as I followed her inside.

She escorted me into the living room and motioned for me to set up.  Normally, I
only did distant healing, but something in her voice compelled me to come in person or was it perhaps that I had succumbed to mere vanity, after all, she did refer to me as “my pretty.”  She sat quietly, broom in hand, in a stone chair with worn red velvet cushions by an oversized window with matching red velvet drapes.  She had a lovely view of the emerald-green edifice of my condo-highrise in the distance.

Once prepared, intake form in hand, I asked her how I could help her, but she simply responded that she hadn’t been feeling quite herself lately.  When I asked for specifics, her responses were equally vague.  Answers would have to wait for further examination.  I asked her to remove her broad-brimmed conical hat and shoes, relinquish her straw-broom and lay on the table.  She complied placing her wind-worn accessories on an
adjacent credenza already adorned by a moon-size crystal ball and an ornate hourglass filled with flame-red sand.  Surprisingly spry, she hopped on the table and laid down.

Once both of us were ready to begin, I stood at the head of the table, centered and grounded myself.  Then I attuned myself to her, opened to the divine, and sneezed, an
unfortunate allergic reaction to the mold on the surrounding stone walls.  My hand drifted above her scanning slowly, for there was much to note.  Her field in general was muddied and broken like a house tempest-tossed.  Most of her chakras were sluggish and wobbled as if they were slowly melting, mellllting. The third chakra, personal power, had
the normal color and spiral but when followed it was as unyielding as a yellow brick road.  The residue of a pain ridge from a recent migraine was still floating above her head.  Its sensitivity helped me to understand the protective purpose of her pointed hat.  Once the scan was complete, I reviewed my findings with her and we agreed to keep it simple for our first session.

I proceeded to restore the energy flow between her chakras creating a steady stream that was protective, smooth and rhythmic like a column of soldiers marching between castle gates. Then I worked on clearing some of the sludge from her energy field to restore some peace and weed its neglected flower garden.  When it felt as if we had gone as far as we should for the day, I placed my hands on her feet to ground her and cautioned her to rise slowly at her own pace.  She informed me that she had felt so relaxed during the session that she had fallen asleep and dreamt of poppies in a broad field attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell.  Then she told me that when I’d touch her feet it felt as if snow flakes were falling upon her which had made her awaken.

Having concluded our session, I reached in my bag, twisted a cap and, as a matter of practice, offered her a bottle of water at which she instinctively recoiled.  I apologized and reminded her to drink plenty of fluids to help cleanse her system.  I refered her to her physician for a complete physical check-up.  She told me that she’d like another session.  We looked at our mutual schedules and decided late afternoon October 31st seemed ideal for both of us since we each already had plans later that Halloween.

To join the challenge:  The Daily Post–And Now For Something Completely Different

This entry was posted in Fiction, Weekly Writing Challenge, Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Something Different: The Wicked and the Healer

  1. Carol O. says:

    LOL, very clever! Well done!

  2. Jenn says:

    Love it 🙂 oh dear thank goodness my witches on my table are hmmm not so slimy and mouldy 😀

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