A Spell of Good

In the year 5018, once a month all the witches in New Paltz met up in a little shack. The shack had two rooms, one room was a potion room and the other one was a bedroom. These meetings were called GSWMs, which stood for Grand Secret Witch Meetings. The leader of the GSWM was named Gretel Lipe. She had two assistants. Their names were Lereta Scott and Joan Tuck. There were 50 witches but the witches split up into 25 and 25. Half went into a shack with Ms. Lipe and the other half split up into five groups. Five arranged the bedroom which had triple-decker bunk-beds and one regular bed. The other five dug out a bathroom hole and five went to the Bronx and spied on Ms. Lipe’s evil sister who had another group of witches.

Cornwall Connercobb stayed in the Bronx Riverdale with her 24 witches and split them up into three groups. Eight spied on and guarded the area. Eight had a meeting and drank butter-beer. Eight just chilled. In Miss Connercobb’s meetings, she tried to solve how to not look like corn so much. She was straight like a pencil and had yellowish skin. She had the silk that corn has for hair, but only a few strands of it. She always wore a wig. Sometimes the wig fell off. Then blue drool came out of her mouth. All the witches exploded into peals of laughter. Cornwall said she was very appalled at their impudent childish behavior. Afterward all the witches stopped laughing except for one or two.

“I’ll take your wands away if you two don’t shut up soon,” said Cornwall in her most witch-like voice after she cackled. Her cackle sounded horrible. It sounded like a dog with a bad cough.

Dear Miss Lipe,

I will get you. You know who I am. I shall plant a curse on you in your G.W.S.M. You will be under a trance, where you will be good forever. If you try to harm me, you will fail. I will have your wands taken away, before the night of the duel. Don’t bring anything but yourself. My spies will have taken away your wand. Buy a plane ticket to Hungary. I’ll send the money. If you don’t come, my spies will get you. My spies have magical powers. They could turn you into a roach and put you in their pocket. Keep this a secret. If you don’t, I’ll get you. I have immortal life. I’m disguised as the countess of Hungary when you get off the plane. Meet me at 3:00 A.M. sharp. Bring an assistant with you (only if you please) but don’t bring them to the ball. In the duel, wear your best black robe and your witch hat. We’ll dine in the best Hungarian Pastry shop for breakfast, for lunch we’ll dine in a fancy Hungarian restaurant, and we’ll do the same for dinner. Don’t worry about the money, I’ll pay, but do prepare to die. I might let you keep your wand, if I feel like it. Your plane flight will be at 11:30. My spies have no mercy. They hate you just as much as I hate you. Before the duel there will be a small party with the Count and Countess of Hungary. The Count and Countess hate you. Even though they act as though they like you (as a friend).

Yours Truly,


Over the coffee table in the potion room, Miss Lipe got the letter. She was so shocked that she dropped her cup of butter-beer and spilled it all over the table and got it all over the Witch’s Daily Magazine, which got on one of her witch’s assistant’s robes and that witch was quite mad. It was her- her- her SISTER CORNWALL! Her face turned pale as a white rose. She fell back in her chair and hit her head. She felt the letter and read it over and over again. Her face turned a mix of pink, white, orange, purple, gray, blue, aqua, indigo, and brown. “Wait, I need to find a way to keep my wand safe,” she said.

“Where should I hide my wand?” said Miss Lipe in a strangely obnoxious way.

“In the secret closet in the bedroom,” said Miss Tuck.

“They know where it is.”

“No they don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been spying.”

“Really, Tuck?”

“Yeah,” said Miss Tuck.

“Great,” said Miss Lipe.


“Are you sure they don’t know?”


“Cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

The plane ride was very nice. There were sweet Hungarian pastries. The pastries were doughnuts filled with jello, and cream on the inside of the jello. Except that you can’t only eat sweets. She always ate sweets on the plane, even though the stewardess offered other foods.

After the plane ride, Miss Lipe got a very bad migraine and passed out for three hours! She was an hour late to the duel! And when she woke up, she felt discombobulated.

On the other hand, our dear friend Cornwall was very upset about that. Ms. Lipe had passed out in the trolley where you get your luggage, and everyone had seen her, but they had just kicked and pushed her around because they thought she was a dummy! When Ms. Lipe woke up, she found that she had quite a lot of bruises, and she was very upset about that.

Cornwall had made a very, very, very, long list of what she was going to scream at her sister. When Miss Lipe went to the pastry shop for breakfast, the bakery had closed, but Cornwall was standing right in front of the door and handed her a stale chocolate croissant, a roast beef sandwich with very stale, hard and thick roast beef. The bread wasn’t that pleasant either: it was moldy, a small pörkölt, and old water.

“Erm…thanks,” said Miss Lipe in a timid way.

“You’re welcome,” said Cornwall in a gruff voice.

There was a small note taped to the water bottle.

The party with the Count and Countess was canceled.


  • Cornwall


Miss Lipe was so disappointed that the party was going to be cancelled. She wanted to see the charades. The clock struck twelve o’clock midnight and she realized that she had three more hours until the duel.

She flung on her best witch robe, witch hat, and laced up her boots, and grabbed her broomstick, and dashed out the door. She mounted her broom and was off in a flash.

When she got there, Cornwall screamed at her sister because she was an hour late. At first, Cornwall said “Aredofphgzzzzaaaayyyybbbbhhhkkkabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz,” which was a spell that made you pass out. But Miss Lipe screamed “Alchercom,” which meant reject.

“Ihcfoyruftgujokploppyoiuhbtcv,” said Cornwall, which meant kill.  “Alcher. Cormbatcometikialcheerfomtomtomcom.” That meant shoot a laser into the hand, wand, and heart. The match went on for five hours until Miss Lipe screamed, “Cormbatcometikialcheerfomtomtomcoms.” Cornwall didn’t die because remember, villains never die. She just passed out.

Cornwall was put into a top witch hospital in Hungary. Cornwall had planted a curse on Miss Scott because when she came back she told everyone about her success and Miss Scott screamed at her and said that she was going to change groups and she did. Miss Lipe told Miss Scott that she was a jerk. Miss Scott screamed back that Miss Lipe was a bobblehead. The fight went on for a while, until Miss Scott took off on her broom and Miss Lipe took off on her broom and caught up to Miss Scott and jolted her off her broom. Miss Scott fell off her broom but grabbed onto Miss Lipe’s broom and then climbed back onto her own broom which Miss Lipe had jinxed so that when Miss Scott crossed the Atlantic Ocean she fell into a hungry shark’s mouth.

Dear Cornwall,

I hope your treatment goes well, so that I can kill you. I will give you five mandrakes a day, so that you will get better in two days. This time I won’t be nice and I’ll actually kill you.

Yours hately,

Miss Lipe.

P.S I will see you for a duel in London a week from tomorrow. This time, I’ll be the sponsor.

The end.

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