I have a pumpkin to carve, bought on a whim at the Amish market. I didn’t check if it was the best one there; just grabbed it by the stem and put it on the checkout table with my dozen eggs and a bunch of kale. It is interesting that on this Halloween I just bought my pumpkin from young women dressed in black, young women who rarely smile at me, and who speak a language that I cannot understand. And yet, I am, by comparison, the witch.
Witches move always to the left, the way of the Devil. I’ll take the left fork always, especially if the right is righteous. Witches are tied to the natural world through familiars, animals/demons who speak with them. Ask my cats – they will tell you, we talk. Witches float, and I can avow that I do not sink easily. I will carve a good face for Samhain and watch the woods carefully.