Skulls lined every shelf of the scullery. The small space did not have many shelves, but it was enough to allow all the witches and shamans who came before her to have a look at the current inhabitant of the shed. She did not particularly like the idea when she moved in, but also did not have the heart to force the remains of the elders to move.
Over time, she grew accustomed to the set-up and meanwhile, she appreciated the company. Between the skulls, she placed little treasures for the enjoyment of the shelves’ residents. Amongst the things she brought back from her walks in the woods, like acorns, conkers, feathers, leafs, and rocks, one could find sundry crystals as well as fresh, seasonal flowers from the garden.
One day, when she came home from her round through the village to help people with various issues, she noticed that five of the twelve skulls were missing. There were no traces of trespassing, and nothing else was missing. The shaman looked around the property and then went back to the village to see if anybody had played a bad joke on her. But this was not the case, and it also would have surprised her.
On the way back home, she meditated on the issue and, once back in her shed, decided to let go of the problem for the day. With a deep breath, she settled in for the night. When she opened the garden door the next morning, the missing skulls were looking up at her, as if nothing unusual had happened. One even seemed to give her a winsome smile. Relieved, she greeted the elders and took them back to the scullery.
“Where have you been?” she asked on the way to the kitchen, leading through the big room with the fireplace.
When she reached the scullery to place the skulls back onto the shelves, she realised the coven of ancestors had completed itself, as she counted six back in.
This microfiction has been inspired by the following writing prompts: