On the Westside of Halcyon, there lived a handsome man named Gregory Haywood. He resided in a beautiful cottage by the lakeside. When his parents announced his marriage at the town meeting, many girls' hearts were broken. Hazel arrived a little late to the meeting, and Marjorie had saved her a seat in the last row of the town hall.
"Congratulations, Gregory!" James Whitefield exclaimed with a wide smile. He noticed his wife looked a little sad, perhaps imagining a wedding for their daughter.
"As you know, it's the first town meeting after the tournament. We should congratulate everyone on the team." As the town selectman handed out medals to the kids, the crowd began to chat.
"What happened?" Hazel inquired.
"Gregory is getting married," Marjorie said, wiping her tears with a handkerchief.
"And?" Hazel asked, confused.
"Just look at his face..." The whole row admired Gregory.
"The town gets weirder every day," Hazel muttered to herself. She enjoyed the townspeople's innocence and their unexpected behaviors. They lived a happy life, and that was what mattered most.
Complaints were raised about leaves all over town, Wi-Fi issues, ghostly neighbors, the paranormal book club, and missing cats. Some were noted, and a new library was being built near the salon. Hazel was thrilled about that; she loved to read. Although she had books at home, they were her late grandmother's grimoires, not novels. At the end of the meeting, cupcakes were served.
"This is from your café?" Hazel recognized them immediately; she was now a daily customer of Marjorie's small café.
"Yeah. I told James I was having some money issues. He suggested I provide food for the town meetings. Good idea, right?" Marjorie smiled.
"Yes, he is very kind." Hazel glanced at James, who was providing water bottles for everyone.
After greeting Gregory, they left the meeting.
The following week, Gregory married Clara Hemsworth, a rich girl from the city. She was a historical researcher with beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes—an angel from heaven, everyone thought, and a perfect match for Gregory.
Days passed. Marjorie had the same old customers every day. Hazel would visit to keep her company or just sit by the window reading one of her best friend Natalie Sonnet's books. Hazel's favourites were green leaf tea and herbal-infused scones with chamomile. The café was small but cozy, especially with the autumn season adding to its charm. There were books on the shelves, and a photo of Marjorie and her mother hung on the wall. James had provided free Wi-Fi in town, so sometimes people would come to work on their laptops or just relax. Occasionally, Marjorie would offer free cupcakes or hot water to school kids or teenagers studying there. She was kind and helpful, making sure customers felt comfortable.
As Hazel turned the pages while sitting at one of the tables, a woman entered and slipped, dropping her history books on the floor. Marjorie rushed over to help.
"It's okay. I'm clumsy," the woman said as she got up and gathered her books. Marjorie and Hazel recognized her immediately—Clara Haywood. Clara sat down near Hazel.
"I'll just have a tea. I came to read. The café looks peaceful," she told Marjorie. Marjorie went to brew the tea.
"You have hazel eyes. So pretty," Clara complimented.
"Not as pretty as your ocean blue. I'm Hazel Moonfield."
"Oh... I see how you got your name." They laughed.
"What are you reading?" Clara inquired.
"It's one of my best friend Nate's novels—Tastes Like Infidelity."
"Nice. So you're Halsey's granddaughter."
"Yes. How do you know about my grandmother?" Hazel asked suspiciously.
"She owned a place that local historians are really interested in. It dates back to the 1800s. That old woman never gave us a chance to inspect the house; she had a lot of antique collections, some of which belong to the museum."
Hazel realized Clara was not just there to read; she was after Hazel's house. Maybe Clara had noticed her frequent visits, which was why she was there.
"The house isn't that old. You must be mistaken, Clara. And there are no antique collections."
Clara didn't want to make Hazel her enemy. "Maybe it's just rumors then." Marjorie returned with the tea. Clara took a sip and began to read.
Hazel didn't see Clara for the next few days. Clara was pretty, brave, and obviously a rule breaker. She traveled around researching the town using local buses and interacted with everyone, always wearing a smile. Hazel thought she was mysterious; it was as if Clara hadn't married Gregory but had instead married the town itself. She could easily gather information from the townspeople, who were innocent and chatty. Under the guise of taking culinary lessons, she made visits to the city. Gregory was a supportive husband, giving her the freedom and space she desired. However, his family did not approve of a woman traveling alone and working in the city while leaving her husband at home. So, Clara focused on researching the town's history, needing to submit her findings at the end of the month. One week passed.
On a Monday morning, Clara arrived at Hazel's house. When Hazel opened the door and recognized her, she began to close it again.
"Wait! I just want to talk. Let me in? I can help you," Clara pleaded.
"How?" Hazel asked warily.
"I can tell the historians there's nothing in this house and that it's just rumors, which might avoid a government inspection. Believe me, they're waiting for my word."
"Why would you do that?"
"I don't know. I need your help. And it's nice to live in a town that historians haven't touched."
"What help?" As Hazel asked, Clara pushed her way inside.
"Wow! The best collection of grimoires. Is that an owl?" Clara exclaimed. The owl gave her a judgmental look. "Does it speak?"
"No," Hazel replied, irritated by the intruder.
"Where are the enchanted jewelry pieces?" Clara inquired.
"There is no enchanted jewelry. There was a ring somewhere, but that's it. You historians are ridiculous. Get out of my house," Hazel ordered. Clara scanned the room and noticed a wand and vials of potions on a shelf.
"These aren't just antiques. These things are magical. They belong to a witch. So it's true!" Clara exclaimed with excitement.
"You're crazy," Hazel said, pushing Clara toward the door. Clara fought back, and they ended up on the floor, wrestling like siblings.
"Leave my hair!" Hazel shouted as Clara pulled at it. "Get off me, you witch!" Clara retorted.
Finally, Hazel stood up, breathless. "What do you want?" she asked, irritation etched on her face.
"Okay, I know you're a witch. I've researched a lot about your family. I've always been obsessed with witches. I won't expose you or anything. I just need a little help. It's just a potion. I promise I'll leave you alone afterward."
"Can I trust you? And is it poisonous? I'm not brewing a dangerous drink."
"It's nothing like that. I just need a flavor potion before Sunday," Clara said.
"For what?" Hazel didn't trust Clara and was not going to hand over a potion that could create delusions.
"My mother-in-law has ordered me to cook dinner for the whole family on Sunday. When I went on field trips around the city, I lied that I was attending culinary sessions. Now she wants proof. I want to impress them. That's all. If you make me that potion, I promise I will never disturb you again," Clara clarified.
"I don't trust you. You expect me to believe you'll leave me alone after brewing a simple flavor potion?" Hazel asked.
"Yes. And I will stop the historians from inspecting your house."
Somehow, Hazel felt Clara's intentions were genuine. She agreed to the deal.
"I've already researched about—"
"I don't need your help to brew a potion. I will give you the potion at Marjorie's café when it's ready. Now get out of my house. Please."
Clara grabbed her bag from the floor and left. Hazel felt really annoyed. But if Clara would leave her alone after the potion, she would do it. She opened her grandmother's potion book and looked for the ingredients. She needed whispering willow bark, golden sage leaves, glimmering honeydew nectar, crimson rose petals, morning dew, and dandelion roots. It required more ingredients than the first potion.
She collected the crimson rose petals and golden sage leaves from the greenhouse. She also dug up the dandelion roots from there. She found ripe honeydew lemons and collected the nectar with care.
The next day, she collected the morning dew from the rose plants in the greenhouse. She only needed one more ingredient. Willow trees were not found in the center of town where she lived. They were available by the lakeside, near Clara's cottage. Unfortunately, she didn't have Clara's number. She still had a few days to brew the potion.
She went for a stroll carrying Natalie's book. She was still reading "Tastes Like Infidelity." There she met Gregory sitting on a park bench. Gregory smiled at her. She was done with the Haywood family. When he greeted her and started to walk away, he called her back.
"I know what you are. I don't know what your deal with my wife is, but just leave her alone," Gregory demanded.
"Seriously! She came to me asking for a—" Hazel stopped. Gregory was just testing her, maybe. He didn't know she was a witch. "We are friends. And what do you mean?"
"Stop playing with me. Everybody knows who you are. They're just silent. You should be burned or drowned, in my opinion." Guess the townspeople were wrong. He was not a lovely person at all.
"Gregory, is this a prank or something?" she asked, ignoring everything and walking away. Gregory punched a tree in anger. When he saw some women approaching, he smiled gracefully. Gregory was good at charming people with his looks.
Something told Hazel that she should help Clara. And there it was—a willow tree standing hidden in the park near the bridge. She had never noticed it before. Maybe it was concealed by some magic. She collected the willow bark and walked home.
That night, she put the sage leaves, willow bark, and dandelion roots into the cauldron and stirred in a counterclockwise direction. As the potion turned brown, she added the morning dew and crimson rose petals. The potion transformed into a bright orange color. Finally, she added the honeydew nectar to bring sweetness to the potion. It was ready to be used. The next day, she collected some of the potion in a small bottle and gave it to Clara at the café. A week passed.
It was over. She felt relief. She was shocked when she found Clara at her door on Monday morning.
"What now?" Hazel asked.
"She asked me to cook dinner every night."
"None of my business. Our deal is over." She began to close the door, but Clara stopped her.
"I don't think so. If they find out about the food, they'll know where I got the potion from. They already have doubts."
"You are not manipulative at all," Hazel mocked. "You promised me."
"I'm sorry. I thought it was a one-time thing."
"I only do favors once. Go away, Clara."
"You are my friend, Hazel. I won't tell them or anyone about you. I really need it."
"It's a delusion. Hope you already know that since you've done your research. And I can't provide you the potion every day," Hazel said.
"I will take culinary sessions. Marjorie said she would help me learn to cook. I'm busy this month with my research papers. I need it for this month. Please," Clara begged.
Hazel agreed and touched Clara's hands.
"Ah! It burns. What did you do?" Clara asked, looking at her hands.
"Nothing. Everything comes with a sacrifice. This potion will bring you no use. Your family will eat the food with taste, but in your case, the bitterness will be heightened." Hazel took the vial of flavor potion and gave it to Clara. Clara looked unhappy.
"You can leave," Hazel ordered, opening the door for her.
As Clara ate the bitter food every day, she took the culinary sessions seriously and improved her cooking skills. She used the potion in smaller quantities each day and finally got rid of it. She became a good cook.
She met Hazel at the café and thanked her. Hazel noticed she was there with another motive.
"Just say it," Hazel said.
"You mentioned a ring." Clara opened her research book and showed her the same ring the boy had stolen from her room. "It is a special ring. The owner of the ring—"
Hazel closed her book without letting her finish. "That's it. Enough with the witch thing." She stood up, about to burst out. "I helped you twice. You trespassed my home. You blackmailed me. What is wrong with you? Stop your obsession with witches. It is dangerous, and it will bring you no good. Magic is an illusion, and if you get stuck in it, you will never get out. And stop visiting me. I don't want to see you again."
"Hazel, I'm sorry. I don't want to be your enemy," Clara said, tears in her eyes. She knew she did a mistake.
"Well, I don't want to be your friend because friends don't manipulate each other." Hazel left, leaving Clara alone in the café. The last words Hazel had said echoed in Clara's mind. She was longing for a friend like Hazel. Filled with regret, she sat on the floor and started crying.
( To be continued)