“Who the actual f-u-c-k decided this would be a good idea? A man witch? A wizard? What in all hells? Men cannot do anything deeper than shovel dirt!” The dark-haired witch turns in her cottage, her dress barely misses the flames in her fireplace. They flare up, run their fingers along the smooth fabric, encourage her to continue, “How is this man supposed to be trusted with the magic of our ancestors-the most beautiful art- and manage to not dirty it with his guns, his war? How is he supposed to see the spirits around him when he cannot look up from his money?” Her brown eyes flare with fury. Her brown hands clench into fists by her sides, small half-moons form on her palms, yet she cannot find space in her rage for pain. She turns back to her loyal audience. Plants of all sizes and shapes sit along a window sill, various birds and bats join the witnesses.
Her fists fly up with a cackle, “Ha! A wizard indeed. This man is nothing other than a mere boy who sees things he does not understand and wishes to overcome it. Well I will not- Nay! – will never help this disgusting boy.” She lets the word drip from her upturned lips, mutters all the way over to her favorite armchair. Falling into a maroon throne, she lets out a frustrated huff as she runs her hand along a vine that appears by her side, “Let him figure this out on his own. So many men have done the same before him. To care not of consequences is mans’ best feature…” The enchantress hesitates. Her devoted animals cock their heads, “but then…the whole land will be plagued with his foolish mistakes.” This thought sent chills through her, her mind is running wild with thoughts of spells that could go wrong with just an offbeat pronunciation. The results of this impostor could be disastrous. She knows what she must do but can hardly bring herself to say it. She stands, runs a hand through her hair before nodding resolutely.
She lets out a deep sigh, “I suppose there’s no way around it, I must help this boy if we wish to remain secure here.” The pets speak their agreement, a sparrow jumps up onto the magic master’s shoulder. A smile spreads across her features, “Thank you dears, now how’s for dinner? There’s no use meeting this boy on an empty stomach now is there? The spirit will just not be the same.” She turns, picks up a cauldron and sets it on the fire. Her features now form into a hard expression she hardly wears. She picks up her hair, starts cutting up some onions. She shakes her head, begins to huff out an upset curse then stops. A thoughtful expression whisks across her face. She lets out a quiet giggle, “Men cannot do anything deeper than shovel dirt.”
Gabrielle Rodriguez, or Gaby, is currently a first-year student at Mount Holyoke College. They were born in San Juan, Puerto Rico and moved to Miami, FL where they have lived since. They’re a Taurus sun, Scorpio rising, Virgo moon. If you don’t know anything about astrology, that’s a cocktail of constellations that means they’re a perfectionist hungry for success. Also, a very many amount of feelings. Some of their achievements include: starting the first theater troupe ever at their low-income middle school at 12, re-starting their High school’s troupe at 14 and starting to direct at 15. They want to mention that they’ve co-written an anthology, directed it, and put it to stage in a month with a budget of $1,500; this anthology included a Latinx retelling of Cinderella…with a transforming dress. Needless to say, they’re very proud. As if school and work aren’t enough, they’re also a staff writer for the books and literature section for Mt. Holyoke’s newspaper. In their section they spotlight Latinx and other QPOC authors. They love bringing other writers’ worlds to life, watching all the twilight movies instead of doing homework, and sends you all the love and light you need.