1

Sienna

When I opened my bakery's front door, a rush of wind swept in, carrying a whirlwind of rust-colored leaves that danced across the worn wooden floor. I promptly swept them out, making sure to close the door behind me to keep more from sneaking in.

With my embroidered apron fastened around me, I began measuring out ingredients for the day's batches of pastries. With practiced hands, I kneaded dough with familiar, rhythmic movements until it transformed under my touch. After putting two batches of bagels in the oven, I started making muffins, which were the second most popular breakfast item. I had an hour before customers would line up outside my door, and I didn't have any leftovers from the previous day. Even if I did, fresh pastries were kind of my thing.

Tantalizing scents of pumpkin, baked apples, and spiced pears wafted from the ovens as I organized the special orders for the day. I giggled to myself when I noticed the many requests for cupcakes topped with witches' hats.

Most witches despised anything witch-themed, especially tacky cupcakes. But not my coven. We embraced all things spooky and magical. Halloween was our favorite time of year. In our town, it wasn't just a single day we celebrated, but a full month of festivities, from nightly outdoor screenings of beloved movies like Halloweentown and Hocus Pocus to a formal masquerade ball. We knew how to make the most out of our favorite holiday.

More than a century ago, my coven established the small town of Cider Falls. The majestic woods that surrounded us shielded us from the chaos and turmoil of the outside world. We rarely ventured out, preferring to keep to ourselves. We relied on each other for everything.

In fact, we needed each other. Our coven's powers were interdependent. Without each other, we had nothing .

Oh yeah, did I mention we could control men?

Our coven had the ability to silence men's egos and pacify any violent tendencies. Although it may not have been as flashy or showy as some might expect from witches, we cherished our power. It was the only gift bestowed upon us, but its value was immeasurable. The quiet yet mighty force of our coven kept our community safe and harmonious.

Magic permeated the air in Cider Falls. But the mortal men, blissfully unaware, continued their mundane lives, ignorant of the extraordinary forces at work around them.

It was a witch's world, and the men were merely living in it.

The sound of the front door and the sharp scent of cologne drew my attention from my task. A man I didn't recognize had entered. His windswept hair fell across his forehead in disarray, giving him an untamed look. The light layer of stubble on his jawline added to his rugged appearance. Standing tall with broad shoulders and a muscular build, he exuded confidence, commanding attention with every step.

As he neared the counter, his eyes swept across my bakery, taking in the assortment of freshly baked pastries and bread. Ashamed for not performing it sooner, I summoned my coven's powers and executed our bewitching spell before the stranger could place his order.

Except, something wasn't right.

It felt like I was pushing against an invisible, impenetrable barrier.

My brow furrowed in confusion, my mind racing to find a solution as I gazed at my target. His frustrated expression and the subtle twitch in his jaw told me he was growing impatient, hunger gnawing at him. The spell had never failed me before, and a surge of panic coursed through my veins.

My nerves were frazzled, but it wasn't just because my magic wasn't working. A fluttering sensation filled my chest, like a thousand butterflies taking flight, as I laid eyes on the man standing before me. My hands shook slightly as I struggled to regain my composure in his presence.

His dark hair brushed against his brow as he leaned in closer. "Are you mute?"

"What?" I squeaked out.

"Oh, she speaks," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why is that bagel orange? "

The initial fluttering sensation in my stomach quickly dissipated. The man's demeanor was cold and uninviting, leaving no room for pleasantness. I could feel the tension radiating from him like heat from a fire, but I was determined not to let his unfriendly attitude affect my mood.

"Because it's a pumpkin spice bagel," I cheerfully explained.

The man let out an audible groan. "You women and your nasty pumpkin spice."

His bold statement caught me off guard. In our small town, men were respectful towards women. They encouraged our interests and never dared to shame us. Of course, that was mostly due to the power we held over them, but it still made for a pleasant dynamic. The stranger's words reeked of ego and judgment, directed towards me with an air of superiority. It was a stark contrast to the respect I was used to receiving from the men in our community.

It was official. I was panicking.

Why wasn't the spell working on him?

"Do you have anything that isn't ninety percent pumpkin?" he asked. "A plain bagel, maybe?"

I had a lone batch of freshly baked plain bagels sitting in the back of my bakery, their golden crusts still glistening with steam. Despite my displeasure with the man's attitude, I was eager to get him on his way.

"Sure, one second," I said before I hustled to the back.

My heart raced as I summoned my coven's powers once again. But as soon as my mind touched the stranger's, I was met with a sharp barrier that made my head feel like it was splitting open. I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle the cry of pain that escaped my lips. Even though the pain was unbearable, I tried again. And again. To no avail.

"I don't have all day," the man shouted.

I wrapped the bagel in a to-go bag and approached the register to meet the impatient man whose hand was tightly pressed against his forehead, his fingers curling inwards.

"Are you okay?" I asked, unsure of what I was witnessing.

He quickly removed his hand from his head, his mouth no longer twisted in discomfort. "I'm fine," he barked back.

"Where are you headed?" I asked, assuming Cider Falls was a pit stop for him. His eyes shifted to the paper to-go bag I clutched in my hand, and a hint of irritation flashed across his features, clearly uninterested in idle chatter.

"Just rolled in this morning. I'm opening a sports bar next door," he quickly explained. "I'll be doing some renovations over the next few months."

"Not this month," I told him. It wasn't a question.

"Whenever my contractor is ready, we'll get the ball rolling," he clarified. "Even if that means during October. Why? Is that a problem?"

"Are you using a local contractor?" I asked.

"Yes."

A sense of relief flooded through me as I realized the stranger wasn't aware of the unspoken rule in our town. No construction during the month of October. The local contractors knew better than to disrupt our favorite time of year, but the stranger didn't need to know that. We couldn't risk him bringing in his own crew from out of town and disturbing the tranquility we cherished.

"Welcome to the block, business neighbor," I said with a bright smile on my face as I handed him his breakfast treat.

He eagerly snatched the bag from my outstretched hand. His fingers fumbled with it, tearing it open to reveal the soft, steaming bagel inside. "What? No cream cheese?" His narrowed eyes seemed to blame me for the omission as if I had personally robbed him of his breakfast pleasure.

"I'm all out of plain cream cheese," I shrugged. "I only have pumpkin spice flavored." Okay, maybe it was a lie, but I didn't like the customer's attitude regarding pumpkin spice. If he was that desperate for something to spread on his bagel, he could try it. "I make it myself," I continued to persuade him.

He wrinkled his nose as I proudly presented a tub of pumpkin spice cream cheese.

"Just one bite won't hurt, will it?" I teased, holding the spread out to him with a challenging smile.

"I'd rather have rusty nails on my bagel than pumpkin spice cream cheese," he said before he stormed out of the front door without so much as a thank you.

I let out a sigh when he finally left, the weight of his presence lifting from my bakery like a dark cloud dispersing. The peace that settled upon me was only temporary, for I knew it was time to sound the alarm and summon my coven.

My mind was drained as if it had been wrung out like a wet towel. Desperate and weary, I turned to modern technology as a means of communication with my sisters. My fingers flew over the keyboard, tapping out a message with frantic urgency. My heart raced with anxiety as I hit send, willing the message to reach them in time.