Witches flew on broomsticks, they drove in carriages. Witches dressed in black, they wore bright and cheerful colors. Witches gathered, they socialized, and as for fortune telling, never - they gave advice, good advice. There was no way anyone could mistake them for witches. They were not in the least bit alike. So it was utter nonsense to think that this was a secret meeting.
But still, it felt like one.

***

The last few rays of daylight fell upon the house of The Third, when a knock resounded on the front door. It was made by the back end of an umbrella; it belonged to The First. A large brass door knocker in the shape of a horse shoe hung shiny and untouched, like the day that it had been brought.

The Third lived in a lime painted, yellow cottage with faded green shutters and matching door. Over the years the foundation had sunk so much that it now leant against the castle wall, while the nearby apple tree that had once grown beside it now grew in and out of the top floor windows.