Nathan Reed - Witch Switch

Miss Strega, help! she prayed.

The problem was that the cats just wouldn’t leave. They mewed and howled, scratched and hissed. Some of them arched their backs and refused to budge. Others tried to trip Jessica up by doing figures of eight around her legs. Another big fat black one bolted from behind the counter and upset a teetering pile of cauldrons.

“Oops! That pot missed me by the pompom of my hood,” one of the garden gnomes whispered. “I feel quite faint.”

Jessica was flabbergasted. “So that’s it! You’ve all changed into cats and gnomes and left me all alone. It’s not fair!”

The Ordinary Person began to walk around. She looked at the jumble of cobwebby mole traps and hurricane lamps in the window. She pursed her lips at the black cauldrons and raised an eyebrow at the heap of broomsticks that the witches had left beside the door.

“They’re for brushing up fallen leaves,” Jessica muttered as she trailed after her.

The Ordinary Person wasn’t listening. She was staring at the three curious garden gnomes whose eyes seemed to follow her as she walked around the room.

“I’ve never noticed this shop before,” she remarked in a very frosty voice, “and that is odd because I work next door in the toy shop.”

“Really?” Jessica squeaked.

The Ordinary Person wrinkled her nose. She began to count all the cats: on the counter, stretched out on the shelves, asleep in the cauldrons and peeping out of drawers.

“It’s all a bit odd, isn’t it? Not to mention smelly.” Jessica’s face and ears turned scarlet.

Get out , she thought. Go away and leave us alone!

But now the Ordinary Person marched to the drawers at the back of the shop and scrunched her eyes up at their spidery handwritten labels.

“Well, since I’m here I’ll have a flea collar, just in case one of these flea-bitten old strays bumps into my little moggie.”

“Sorry, we don’t sell them.”

“Nonsense! There’s a drawer here marked Flea Collars. I’ll get one myself.”

The Ordinary Person went to pull open a drawer that Jessica knew contained a bloodcurdling collection of freaky hollers: WHOOOO! WAAAARGH!

There was no time to lose.

She stomped across the shop, whacking the floor with her broom: left, right, left, right.

“Don’t open that! It’s empty. We have no flea collars for sale. None at all. Goodbye.”

And she practically swept the Ordinary Person out on to the street and banged the door shut.

“Blithering batwings and warty warlocks!”

Behind her, all the stray cats began clambering out of drawers, hopping off the counter and carefully picking their way over the spilled pile of cauldrons.

Suddenly, before you could say moonbeams and marrowbones, the racket started again. Witches cackled. Glasses clinked. Berkeley trilled. And there were all the witches standing around, leaning on their brooms, trying on capes, leafing through Spell Books and sipping fresh glasses of Midnight Magic.

“Thank you, ladies, for such speedy Switching,” said Miss Strega.

“It’s years since an Ordinary Person barged in like that.”

Jessica rounded on her. “Why did you leave me all alone? We could have been found out!”

“Great honking goose feathers!” Miss Strega snorted. “Calm down, of course we couldn’t have been found out. Ordinary People don’t see witches. And, anyway, here in the shop we’re In Between.”

“Well, that Ordinary Person saw me. She managed to get In Between. She was definitely suspicious of all the cauldrons and broomsticks and cats. And she spotted the gnomes’ eyes following her. What if she had opened that drawer full of freaky hollers?”

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