The history of Dwaele features many witches. These insalubrious types lived deep in Dwaele Forest, where they engaged in trickery and black magic. They were rarely seen inside the city walls. If you did see them, you’d better watch out! It was always better to avoid these sullen and malicious hags. Until one day, when someone in Dwaele decided to stop avoiding them.
In a narrow alley in Dwaele stood the quaint little shop of Wigmund the Mirror Man. For years, he crafted the prettiest and most vivid mirrors. So special were they that some people claimed, if you looked long enough, they reflected more than the sunlight wanted to illuminate. In all of Dwaele, you couldn’t find a home where a Wigmund mirror was not suspended on the wall, or perched on the dressing table. For this reason, Wigmund had become a famous resident of Dwaele and earned a good living from it. And yet, Wigmund still had many a wistful dream. For when he closed the door of his mirror shop late at night and made his way home, he would often stand for hours gazing at the night sky. And there in the dark sky they flew: the witches of Dwaele. Perched upon their broomsticks, they were searching for something or someone on which to unleash their witchcraft. Wigmund thought about how wonderful it must be to soar aloft, up there high in the sky. But of course, he would never manage that. After all, he was not a witch. And he probably never would be, either. But, he suddenly thought, why not? Why couldn’t he, Wigmund the Mirror Man, be a witch?
The next morning, the mirror shop was closed. A note hung on the door:
I’m busy.
I’ll be back tomorrow.
Greetings, Wigmund.
He had left the city early that morning and walked into the woods, heading for the place where, according to many, the witches gathered. It was a long trek that lasted all day. Only towards evening did he arrive at a large circle of witches, in the middle of the forest. There, around a large campfire, they stood. The witches. And how many there were! Wigmund hid behind a bush and observed the witches dancing, drinking and arguing with each other. He watched the wondrous sight with gaping mouth, until suddenly an owl above him started calling loudly. Instantly, the witches were silent… looking his way. A few anxious moments passed. From their midst, the eldest witch walked towards the bush behind which Wigmund had hidden. “Who got caught there by the owl? Come out!”
Slowly, Wigmund stood up. The witches nudged each other. “It’s Wigmund, Wigmund the Mirror Man!” They screeched. The old witch beckoned to Wigmund. “You! Come here.”
Somewhat anxiously, Wigmund entered the witch’s circle. “How do you know my name?” He stammered. “Ah”, spoke the old witch, “we know everyone in Dwaele”. That’s the witches’ shtick. “But you… you’re not the one asking the questions here. Come on, what are you doing here?”Wigmund glanced around the circle and cleared his throat. “I, uh, I came to ask if I can also become a witch. Please.”
For a moment there was silence. But then the witches burst out laughing. They rolled on the floor in stitches. “You? A witch? You can’t become a witch at all!” Wigmund watched the witches slapping each other’s thighs with laughter. “But, why not?” Asked Wigmund. “Because I’m a man?”
The old witch chided the others to silence. “What? Because you are a man? What are you talking about, of course not. That is so hopelessly old-fashioned. No, Wigmund, there is another reason why you will never be a witch. But apparently you are not aware of that.”
Wigmund shrugged.
The old witch sighed. “Fine, then I’ll explain it. You, Wigmund, will never be a witch because you are not ugly enough! Witches are ugly. After all, that is what makes us witches. If you are not ugly, then you have no business in this profession. Look at us! It’s ugly, uglier and ugliest.” Behind the old witch, the other witches nodded approvingly. “Not ugly enough?” Wigmund did not understand. “Indeed”, spoke the old witch, “Not ugly? Never a witch. Get it now? Be gone with you, Wigmund.” And she walked away.
Perplexed, Wigmund looked around the circle. “But you’re not really that ugly at all, either?” The old witch stopped and turned around. “What did you just say?” Wigmund swallowed. “I said I don’t find you ugly at all. You just look… uh, yeah… witchy.’ The old witch came perilously close to Wigmund. “What do you mean… witchy?”
“Well just, witchy.” Spoke Wigmund. “Black clothes, pointy hat, broomstick – you know… witchy. Actually, you guys look great! Here, see for yourself!” From his pocket, Wigmund pulled out a small mirror. When the witches saw the mirror they shrieked and cowered. “Away, away with the damn thing! Are you mad? Don’t you know that witches will never look in a mirror?”
Wigmund looked at the mirror in his hand and then at the terrified witches in front of him. “Well, you should try it anyway. Then you’ll see what I mean.” There was a long silence, until the eldest witch slowly held out her hand. “Well, come here then.” With her eyes firmly shut, she placed the mirror in front of her face. Cautiously, she opened one eye. And then the other. Suddenly her eyes grew big, and on her lips was something of a smile. “He… is right.” She stammered. Another witch pulled the mirror out of her hands and gazed into it. She too kept looking into the mirror in amazement. “It’s true. I’m not that ugly at all!”
Again, a witch pulled the mirror towards her, and then another, and another. They fought to get their hands on the small mirror. For the first time in their long lives, they looked in a mirror and saw that they were not at all as ugly as they had always thought themselves to be. When all the witches had looked at and complimented themselves, the old witch commanded everyone to be quiet. She grabbed a witch’s cloak and hat and gave them to Wigmund.
“I think you have more than proved that you have earned this. Wigmund the Mirror Man, as of today you belong to the Order of the Witches of Dwaele!” A loud screech resounded as Wigmund buttoned his witch’s cloak, put on his pointy hat, and disappeared into the air on his own witch’s broomstick. How happy he felt! That night, you could glimpse him flying through the skies of Dwaele.
He flew until early dawn, then went to open up his mirror shop. Since that day, he has welcomed more and more witches among his astonished customers. Witches who were looking for a nice little mirror, for themselves. Witches who held the door open for other customers and even said hello to you kindly. Such a thing had never been seen before! From that day on, the Witches of Dwaele seemed a little friendlier, a little less grumpy even. At least, if you didn’t catch them in the wrong mood. Because well, even friendly witches sometimes have a bad hair day.
