Women, especially single women, were quite the oddity in this day-in-age. That’s why when Courtney found herself living in this new village she got every sort of strange look from busybodies and Nosy Nellies alike.
She had purchased her small cottage and the roughly two acres surrounding it on the edge of Essex Wood legitimately. The old owner told the few curious enough to ask that she had told him the money was from an inheritance. Everyone took that to mean that it was what her late husband had left her.
After only a few days, the villagers began to engage in the usual niceties with Courtney any time they saw her in the square. The ones that saw her most were the proprietor of the general store where she purchased her groceries, as well as the seamstress, whom she visited nearly just as often.
Courtney quickly became known in the village as the Red Lady. This was owed to her brimmed red hat that sat atop her deep red hair. The hat was a darker shade than her hair, and it came to a small point on the top that leaned a little to one side. Her auburn hair was long and, with just a few hints of waviness, was mostly straight. When she was out, she nearly always wore a black cloak over a dress, usually also black and always ornate with lace trim. On most days, stockings hugged her legs down to her ankle boots. But sometimes, her fair-skinned legs could be seen bare.
It was hard for the villagers to place exactly how old Courtney appeared to be. And like any respectable woman in that time and place, she did not openly reveal her age to someone just because they asked. Some placed her above or around 30 years, while others claimed that she couldn’t be much older than 21, though some might have guessed younger if it weren’t for the aforementioned rumor of her being a widow.
Courtney had moved into the village in the spring, and now nearing the end of summer, the first rounds of peppers, sunflowers, and even a few apples were being brought to the market in the square. This was Courtney’s favorite time of year for numerous reasons. Not the least of which was the prospect of finally being able to brew her favorite cider from freshly fallen apples. Autumn was approaching, and Courtney knew that Autumn was truly her domain.
She had nearly filled her half-peck basket with apples from the market when a man caught her eye. Courtney prided herself on her ability to read people, among other things. She could tell that this man too was becoming smitten with the changing season.
‘Not usual for a man to be enraptured by the changing seasons.’ Courtney thought to herself. ‘This one must be deeply atuned…’ She was relieved that not everyone in the village was dull.
Before she could collect her thoughts, she heard “Hey there! Plan on making a pie with those?” It was the man.
Her normally cool demeanor left her and she struggled to find the words. “Cider-” she stammered. ” I like to make cider” Courtney collected herself again.
She normally wasn’t thrown off by anyone, especially a man. But he caught her off guard. Anyone would look tall to Courtney, who was only 4’11”. But this man, while not towering at around 6’0″ let out an air of confidence that seemed to make him tower over everyone else in the village. Courtney was also struck by his gorgeous black wavy hair. He had a bit of a stocky build but he wasn’t overweight.
“Oh! I love cider!” He replied. His voice lowered, “Tell me you serve it cold, unlike the lawless heathens around here” he joked.
She giggled and replied “Of course! But that doesn’t mean I’m not a heathen though.” She flirted back
‘Don’t come on too strong, it’s still too early’ she thought to herself.
Courtney found a great conversation there in the market with that man, whose name she learned was Alan. He was a luthier, which she thought peculiar in such a small village, but Alan explained that music and creating things had been his passion. So he combined them into creating musical instruments. Courtney admired him for doing something solely for the purpose of enjoying it. Not common to see at all. She knew there was something special about this man.
As the late-summer aged, Alan and Courtney saw each other more and more frequently. Of course, talk began to waft around the village of the Luthier and the widow…
“I always knew there was something peculiar about that luthier. Now he’s running around with a widow only a few months after losing her beloved? That ain’t decent.” And “I heard she’s a sorcoress and she has put him under a spell.” Although that was usually accompanied with “Alright Darlene, you know that witches ain’t been around for centuries. If even at all! Witches were probably just healers that dumb folk didn’t understand”
Whatever the case, Alan and Courtney enjoyed each other’s company more than any one else’s. Most of their time was spent in Alan’s shop, where he played his instruments for Courtney. Her favorite was the hurdy gurdy. The low droning and mystical tones always engrossed her more than she thought possible. Of course, she always brought cider for him. Cold, just how he liked it.
They also spent a lot of time taking walks into the Essex Wood and along Gooseberry Creek and into the fields. Alan knew his way around flawlessly. Courtney was amazed at his familiarity with nature. He seemed to know every root, and every dip in the earth. If an animal was encountered, they were much slower to flee from him than anyone she had ever seen before. Once, he was even able to feed a squirrel right from his hand.
‘Oh, he’ll do perfectly’ Courtney thought to herself. She reached up, grabbed him by his lapel and kissed him deeply. ‘It won’t be much longer now…’ that last thought was filled with such longing and desire that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
As the days shortened, the shadows got longer and the fields and the trees began to turn. The colors appeared to nearly match Courtney’s hair perfectly. Then the day came. The eve of the Autumn equinox. As Alan waited for Courtney’s usual visit, she was running a bit late. His mind began to reel. Had he taken things too quickly? Was she scared?
Before he could worry long, the post came with an envelope addressed to him. “Thanks Alfred!” Alan said to the post man before going into his shop. He looked at the unusual envelope. It was a strange sort of parchment that he had never seen before. It was also wrapped in a fine brown twine that reminded him of twigs, or long grass. He removed the envelope and on the back was a wax seal with an equally strange symbol that he didn’t recognize. As he broke the seal, he felt a chill run through his body, with a warmth following that settled in his loins.
As he pulled out the letter a piece of lace cloth fell onto his lap. He read from the letter,
>Alan,
>I apologize for my unusual behavior today, but I have something special planned for us. I have included a token of myself. If you accept, please meet my at my cottage 10 minutes before midnight. Tell no one.
Below that were two lines of strange symbols that Alan thought to be runes, though he could not begin to even hope to understand what they said.
He looked at his lap at the lace cloth that had fallen out of the envelope. His eyes wide as he realized what it was; Courtney’s token. The cloth was the blackest black he had ever seen. So black that it absorbed all light that touched it. As he looked closer, the trimming however, was red. Exactly the color of Courtney’s hair. He held the blacker-than-black lace panties up in front of him as he stared in awe, his mouth agape.
Courtney had begun to cast her spell. All that remained to consummate it.
—————
*Thank you for reading! As I was writing, my idea for this story expanded greatly and I want it to be sort of a slow burn thing. Of course, this is just part one. Any feedback would be fantastic and let me know if you want to read part 2 and beyond!*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/iyww4t/the_red_witch_part_1_mf_light_fantasy_slow_burn
I’d love to read more of it! I really like Slow-Burns
That is an adorable