Mavis Burnsides is on her deathbed when her best friend brings her a Witching License. Now she's got magical powers—and one last night to make up for a lifetime of regrets.
By turns sassy and touching, The Witching License is a gentle tale of regret, romance, and righting wrongs.
Mavis looked at the strange card in her hand and wondered if her friend hadn’t made a mistake.
Mavis, hit with cancer at age 71, had stubbornly resisted the doctor’s death date by eight years, but it looked like this dim grey hospice bed was her final stop. They didn’t expect her to be here in a month—they being her daughter and the doctor—so instead of letting her die at home like she’d wanted, they’d put her in this place.
She’d protested, but when Cheryl said she needed more in-home help than Cheryl could afford, Mavis had smiled and…relented. She didn’t want to be the sweet mother who turned into a cranky old bitch right at the finish line. For one, she didn’t have dementia or Alzheimer’s as an excuse. No, she was dying, in her right mind, and knew better than to bite peoples’ heads off when things didn’t go her way.
READ MOREShe caressed her thumb over the shiny face of the card—erratically, for though her mind was still sharp, her body hadn’t gotten the memo and shook constantly—and felt the diamond shapes in relief (a word she remembered all the way back from art enrichment class at the senior center) rising out of the material that felt smooth like plastic, cold like glass, but not the right feel for either material.
She read the license again.
This card entitles the bearer to fly, communicate with higher animals, speak her mind, disregard stupid rules, stand up for the little guy, elude the fashion police, and excuses the bearer from any negative consequences therefrom for the remainder of the bearer’s life.
To activate, ingest card.
COLLAPSE