For some reason, the 'witch urn' is what I'd been calling the urn two challenge posts ago. I'd somehow decided that the urn contained the remains of a witch buried under the rock in the hedgerow. Perhaps I read it in the research.
Margarey had been described by Price and Lambert as being a wisewoman, a witch at any other time, with some non-specific psychic foresight.
Some cliched, witchy words follow. These say more about how I imagine a manx witch to speak, and the stereotypes involved with both manx, farmers, and witches than it has to do with reality. I must cop that I like the idea of women gaining some magic from a connection to the land and the spirits that inhabit it. It's a very ethereal, wispy, Arthur Rakham sylph image of witches.
The Isle of Man seems full of thin spots where strangeness creeps across from someplace else. Perhaps this is where Gef came from?
MARGARET: Bring my daughter a protector to keep her safe from harm, to keep her whole. Let the moon kiss her brow, the hills her feet, the air her cheek.
And then Gef appears. As if by magic.
A passing idea for writing today's post: to use every letter other than 'W'.
i.e. "Gef loves the Irving family, in his unique manner. The murder of rabbits to fill their pot..."
Tomorrow: X. To the dictionary for help.