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rayaso Wheel of Chaos 2025
Week 6
Prompt: Re-imagine another contestant’s entry
August 8,2025
I chose Halfshellvenus’s wonderful Week 5 entry, “Cursecraft.” I loved playing with her toys and I hope I did them justice.
https://halfshellvenus.livejournal.com/823942.html“Home at last,” cackled Hattie McTwittle to no one in particular. That was one of the benefits of living alone. She could say whatever she wanted and no one talked back, except for Pyewacket, her black cat. Pye was always complaining about something, usually about being stuck in cat form.
She’d just spent a week visiting her sister Helga, and it had been a trial. Poor Helga had lost her magic, and she’d asked Hattie to help her get it back. Once she got there, Hattie had found that Helga had actually turned friendly. What use is a friendly witch? And she had talked all the time! It had driven Hattie crazier.
Even worse than Helga’s constant talking had been the princesses, wolves, and lost children who kept dropping by to get some of Helga’s baked treats. The goodies hadn’t been poisoned! Not even a simple enchantment! What was the point?
“Just because you can’t cast a spell doesn’t mean you can’t brew poison,” Hattie had told her.
Hattie had had trouble understanding Helga. Even little children knew where she lived, and what was worse, she would feed them and let them go! Sure, they did some housecleaning, but that was . . . nice. And if she didn’t stop those deer from nibbling on her house, she’d have to bake a new one, without magic. It had all been very upsetting.
“My sister’s not a hag anymore -- she’s a baker,” Hattie had thought. “She’s ruining our name. Soon she’ll be selling coffee!”
Hattie knew what to do with visitors -- plop them in the pot. That is, if they could make it past Krampus, her guard gator. One time five little ducks had flown in, but they hadn’t flown out. They had made a nice stew, along with a black sheep that wouldn’t stop baa-baa-baaing.
Once upon a time, Helga had been fun. Just for laughs, they had turned six princes into swans. But now, Hattie hadn’t been there five minutes when Helga had told her “Leave my friends alone - no spells, no potions, no transformations.” Hattie hadn’t even had a chance to park her broom.
Big sisters are like that, even hags.
“Friends!” Hattie had scoffed. “You’ve gone soft. Did you lose your evil with your magic?”
Hattie should have flown home right then, but she’d told Helga she’d help with her magic. Little sisters are also like that -- family is still family, even if they’re becoming good.
They had once helped their cousin, the Wicked Witch of the West, with her Dorothy problem. Together, they had captured Dorothy and transported her to the inside of a book. Not even the Great and Terrible Wizard of Oz could kick her out -- he had become so upset that he had tried to drop a house on Hattie, but missed. Now that was some real magic! Just thinking of it made her cackle, and when people heard Hattie cackle, they knew to keep away.
Not long after Hattie had arrived, Helga had made a fresh cauldron of witch’s brew, with a hint of apples and cinnamon. It was nice and green and bubbly, and tasted just fine even without hanging moss and possum teeth.
“Can I have the recipe?” Hattie had asked.
“It’s just Mom’s old recipe, but without the goat hooves and using rattlesnake instead of eye of newt. The snake venom gives it that tang.”
The two sisters talked long into the night about everything and nothing. They hadn’t seen each other for years, not since Hattie had moved to the Black Bayou. As usual, Helga had done most of the talking and Hattie had done most of the listening, which suited them both.
Finally, Helga had told Hattie how she’d lost her magical powers. Helga had felt her abilities waning, so she had tried to trick the Evil Queen by stealing her magic. The Queen had turned the tables on her and she’d taken Helga’s magic instead, making the Queen even more powerful.
“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” Hattie had thought. “No one can fool Her Evilness.”
Now the sisters had to find a way to restore Helga’s power, and it wouldn’t be by baking cookies.
Magic is a special kind of energy that exists in the world. The power of magic doesn’t just disappear when it leaves a host, like when a wizard dies. Magic can’t be created or destroyed; it becomes free-floating until it enters a new person. But that is a random event – a normal teenage girl might just go to bed one night and wake up a witch.
Helga’s magic was now in the Queen, so the problem was how to make some of this universal magic enter Helga.
“It’s never been done before,” Hattie had told Helga. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t come up with the right spell.”
The next day, the sisters had gone to work, poring over the Book of Spells, originally written in ancient Sumerian, Latin, and Esperanto. Over the centuries, witches of different countries had added their spells, so the Book was a comprehensive collection of all things magic. Annotations provided helpful hints, including a Translation Potion so that a witch could read all the different languages with ease.
Helga’s musty old copy had passed through many generations of the McTwittle women. Their handwritten notes had valuable information and a history of magic in their family. It was clear that nobody had ever lost her magic before. This was not going to be easy.
The closest they could find was an Attraction Potion, which could also be used as a love potion. There were several variations; the sisters chose the ninth. But attracting magic was different than creating love – the potion had to be stronger, more permanent, and capable of enthralling something free and wild.
“We can try mixing it with a Hunter’s Potion,” said Helga, “if we change it a little. Hunters drink it to lure animals.”
“Yes,” said Hattie. “Add some monkshood and a lot of henbane?”
“And some kingsfoil leaves,” added Helga, her voice full of excitement.
“I still don’t think a potion is enough,” said Hattie. “We also need a spell.”
“A pentagram of blood!” they both said together.
“It needs to be magical blood,” said Helga. “Perhaps unicorn?”
“Too rare and too weak,” said Hattie. She thought about the options available. “We’ll draw a pentagram in my blood,” she said at last. “We need the strongest blood possible.”
That’s too much blood!” said Helga. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re my sister” was all Hattie said, and that was enough.
First, they mixed the potion and let it simmer. They added some chocolate syrup to make it more palatable; Helga made a sourer face, but she got it down.
Next came the blood. Helga got out her athame knife. Hattie sat down, drew the athame across her wrist, gathered the blood in a measuring cup, and then she cast a healing spell on herself. They thought that if they used the blood sparingly, one cup would be enough.
They needed a pentagram that Helga could fit inside, and using a very small brush, the sisters painted it on the floor. Helga positioned herself within the pentagram, and then Hattie placed red ritual candles at each point of the star and lit them.
Now it was time for the spell. Hattie held a candle and they began repeating a slow, dirge-like chant: “Ooga shaka ooga shaka.” Hattie started to spin slowly, dancing around Helga, then going faster and faster, keeping time with the spell.
The end of the spell was the most powerful part: “iko iko an day oh.” When they reached “jocomo fee no an dan day,” Helga’s body started to rise. At the same time, a spinning, pulsing ball of energy appeared over her. Slowly, the ball descended until it was mere inches above Helga -- then it exploded into dazzling light and disappeared. Helga’s body floated down to the floor.
Carefully, she stood up.
“Well?” asked Hattie.
Helga tried a simple spell to make some gingerbread men dance. Nothing, not even a wiggle.
“We came so close,” sighed Helga.
“I’m so sorry,” said Hattie. “When the energy ball appeared, I thought it’d work.”
Helga was quiet for a while. Finally.
“I’m disappointed,” she eventually said. “But I enjoy baking treats for the Forest. It pays well, and I’ve been thinking about expanding. I can build an actual bakery, maybe add coffee to the menu. And I enjoy visiting with everybody.”
“You’ve changed,” said Hattie, shaking her head. “But you’ve got the Forest and I’ve got the Swamp. There’s got to be room in the Forest for a friendly witch.”
“Now I have to start baking. Those muffins don’t make themselves anymore.”
Helga was almost smiling as she said this. She was still too much of a witch for more than a little grin.
Their conversation was interrupted when the Woodsman knocked on Helga’s door. He wanted an order of chocolate croissants. Standing behind him was a rabbit in a blue jacket.
“I’ve got to leave before this gets worse,” said Hattie. “I need to see what my gator’s caught. I’ve been away too long.”
While Helga started her baking, Hattie climbed onto her broom.
“Goodbye, sister,” she said, “I need to terrorize some townspeople. No cookies for them!”
With a howl and a cackle, Hattie took off, did a couple of barrel rolls, and disappeared into the clouds.
##############################
Week 6
Prompt: Re-imagine another contestant’s entry
August 8,2025
I chose Halfshellvenus’s wonderful Week 5 entry, “Cursecraft.” I loved playing with her toys and I hope I did them justice.
https://halfshellvenus.livejournal.com/823942.html“Home at last,” cackled Hattie McTwittle to no one in particular. That was one of the benefits of living alone. She could say whatever she wanted and no one talked back, except for Pyewacket, her black cat. Pye was always complaining about something, usually about being stuck in cat form.
She’d just spent a week visiting her sister Helga, and it had been a trial. Poor Helga had lost her magic, and she’d asked Hattie to help her get it back. Once she got there, Hattie had found that Helga had actually turned friendly. What use is a friendly witch? And she had talked all the time! It had driven Hattie crazier.
Even worse than Helga’s constant talking had been the princesses, wolves, and lost children who kept dropping by to get some of Helga’s baked treats. The goodies hadn’t been poisoned! Not even a simple enchantment! What was the point?
“Just because you can’t cast a spell doesn’t mean you can’t brew poison,” Hattie had told her.
Hattie had had trouble understanding Helga. Even little children knew where she lived, and what was worse, she would feed them and let them go! Sure, they did some housecleaning, but that was . . . nice. And if she didn’t stop those deer from nibbling on her house, she’d have to bake a new one, without magic. It had all been very upsetting.
“My sister’s not a hag anymore -- she’s a baker,” Hattie had thought. “She’s ruining our name. Soon she’ll be selling coffee!”
Hattie knew what to do with visitors -- plop them in the pot. That is, if they could make it past Krampus, her guard gator. One time five little ducks had flown in, but they hadn’t flown out. They had made a nice stew, along with a black sheep that wouldn’t stop baa-baa-baaing.
Once upon a time, Helga had been fun. Just for laughs, they had turned six princes into swans. But now, Hattie hadn’t been there five minutes when Helga had told her “Leave my friends alone - no spells, no potions, no transformations.” Hattie hadn’t even had a chance to park her broom.
Big sisters are like that, even hags.
“Friends!” Hattie had scoffed. “You’ve gone soft. Did you lose your evil with your magic?”
Hattie should have flown home right then, but she’d told Helga she’d help with her magic. Little sisters are also like that -- family is still family, even if they’re becoming good.
They had once helped their cousin, the Wicked Witch of the West, with her Dorothy problem. Together, they had captured Dorothy and transported her to the inside of a book. Not even the Great and Terrible Wizard of Oz could kick her out -- he had become so upset that he had tried to drop a house on Hattie, but missed. Now that was some real magic! Just thinking of it made her cackle, and when people heard Hattie cackle, they knew to keep away.
Not long after Hattie had arrived, Helga had made a fresh cauldron of witch’s brew, with a hint of apples and cinnamon. It was nice and green and bubbly, and tasted just fine even without hanging moss and possum teeth.
“Can I have the recipe?” Hattie had asked.
“It’s just Mom’s old recipe, but without the goat hooves and using rattlesnake instead of eye of newt. The snake venom gives it that tang.”
The two sisters talked long into the night about everything and nothing. They hadn’t seen each other for years, not since Hattie had moved to the Black Bayou. As usual, Helga had done most of the talking and Hattie had done most of the listening, which suited them both.
Finally, Helga had told Hattie how she’d lost her magical powers. Helga had felt her abilities waning, so she had tried to trick the Evil Queen by stealing her magic. The Queen had turned the tables on her and she’d taken Helga’s magic instead, making the Queen even more powerful.
“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” Hattie had thought. “No one can fool Her Evilness.”
Now the sisters had to find a way to restore Helga’s power, and it wouldn’t be by baking cookies.
Magic is a special kind of energy that exists in the world. The power of magic doesn’t just disappear when it leaves a host, like when a wizard dies. Magic can’t be created or destroyed; it becomes free-floating until it enters a new person. But that is a random event – a normal teenage girl might just go to bed one night and wake up a witch.
Helga’s magic was now in the Queen, so the problem was how to make some of this universal magic enter Helga.
“It’s never been done before,” Hattie had told Helga. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t come up with the right spell.”
The next day, the sisters had gone to work, poring over the Book of Spells, originally written in ancient Sumerian, Latin, and Esperanto. Over the centuries, witches of different countries had added their spells, so the Book was a comprehensive collection of all things magic. Annotations provided helpful hints, including a Translation Potion so that a witch could read all the different languages with ease.
Helga’s musty old copy had passed through many generations of the McTwittle women. Their handwritten notes had valuable information and a history of magic in their family. It was clear that nobody had ever lost her magic before. This was not going to be easy.
The closest they could find was an Attraction Potion, which could also be used as a love potion. There were several variations; the sisters chose the ninth. But attracting magic was different than creating love – the potion had to be stronger, more permanent, and capable of enthralling something free and wild.
“We can try mixing it with a Hunter’s Potion,” said Helga, “if we change it a little. Hunters drink it to lure animals.”
“Yes,” said Hattie. “Add some monkshood and a lot of henbane?”
“And some kingsfoil leaves,” added Helga, her voice full of excitement.
“I still don’t think a potion is enough,” said Hattie. “We also need a spell.”
“A pentagram of blood!” they both said together.
“It needs to be magical blood,” said Helga. “Perhaps unicorn?”
“Too rare and too weak,” said Hattie. She thought about the options available. “We’ll draw a pentagram in my blood,” she said at last. “We need the strongest blood possible.”
That’s too much blood!” said Helga. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re my sister” was all Hattie said, and that was enough.
First, they mixed the potion and let it simmer. They added some chocolate syrup to make it more palatable; Helga made a sourer face, but she got it down.
Next came the blood. Helga got out her athame knife. Hattie sat down, drew the athame across her wrist, gathered the blood in a measuring cup, and then she cast a healing spell on herself. They thought that if they used the blood sparingly, one cup would be enough.
They needed a pentagram that Helga could fit inside, and using a very small brush, the sisters painted it on the floor. Helga positioned herself within the pentagram, and then Hattie placed red ritual candles at each point of the star and lit them.
Now it was time for the spell. Hattie held a candle and they began repeating a slow, dirge-like chant: “Ooga shaka ooga shaka.” Hattie started to spin slowly, dancing around Helga, then going faster and faster, keeping time with the spell.
The end of the spell was the most powerful part: “iko iko an day oh.” When they reached “jocomo fee no an dan day,” Helga’s body started to rise. At the same time, a spinning, pulsing ball of energy appeared over her. Slowly, the ball descended until it was mere inches above Helga -- then it exploded into dazzling light and disappeared. Helga’s body floated down to the floor.
Carefully, she stood up.
“Well?” asked Hattie.
Helga tried a simple spell to make some gingerbread men dance. Nothing, not even a wiggle.
“We came so close,” sighed Helga.
“I’m so sorry,” said Hattie. “When the energy ball appeared, I thought it’d work.”
Helga was quiet for a while. Finally.
“I’m disappointed,” she eventually said. “But I enjoy baking treats for the Forest. It pays well, and I’ve been thinking about expanding. I can build an actual bakery, maybe add coffee to the menu. And I enjoy visiting with everybody.”
“You’ve changed,” said Hattie, shaking her head. “But you’ve got the Forest and I’ve got the Swamp. There’s got to be room in the Forest for a friendly witch.”
“Now I have to start baking. Those muffins don’t make themselves anymore.”
Helga was almost smiling as she said this. She was still too much of a witch for more than a little grin.
Their conversation was interrupted when the Woodsman knocked on Helga’s door. He wanted an order of chocolate croissants. Standing behind him was a rabbit in a blue jacket.
“I’ve got to leave before this gets worse,” said Hattie. “I need to see what my gator’s caught. I’ve been away too long.”
While Helga started her baking, Hattie climbed onto her broom.
“Goodbye, sister,” she said, “I need to terrorize some townspeople. No cookies for them!”
With a howl and a cackle, Hattie took off, did a couple of barrel rolls, and disappeared into the clouds.
##############################
no subject
Date: 2025-08-07 02:05 pm (UTC)I love the relationship between Helga and Hattie and the way the story ends for both of them too.
“Goodbye, sister,” she said, “I need to terrorize some townspeople. No cookies for them!”
With a howl and a cackle, Hattie took off, did a couple of barrel rolls, and disappeared into the clouds.
this made me cackle haha!
This was just so funny and delightful to read. I love the narrative voice of your tales <3
no subject
Date: 2025-08-07 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-07 08:56 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-08-08 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 04:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 07:25 pm (UTC)I love how they still love each other as sisters even though their goals in life are now so different.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-11 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-11 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-13 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-13 12:43 am (UTC)I also liked that you used song noises (lyrics isn't quite the right word) as part of the incantations. And, of course, that Hattie was based on "Swamp Witch"! This was an awesome endeavor all around. :D
no subject
Date: 2025-08-13 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 01:12 am (UTC)I thought we were going to get a guest cameo by Blue Swede!
This story is delightful, and you definitely did justice to
I really enjoyed this. It was a wonderful read.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-01 02:12 pm (UTC)I think you saw a lot of the charm in the original piece that I did. And, of course, being closer to the source, you maybe could even talk to her about the characters. Even though Hattie isn't in the original piece, she's definitely a part of the same world.
And while we didn't coordinate at all for our pieces, I'm also delighted that both of them could exist in the same universe without canceling each other out!
no subject
Date: 2025-09-01 06:21 pm (UTC)