I want to first thank all the people who have wrote reviews and encouraged me to continue this. I'll never make a cent off this book, but if it has given you pleasure then it's been worth it. Hope to have this finished in time for the tenth anniversary of the movie in Spring 06.

The Craft: Book Of the Movie Part 6:
The Visitation

You would hardly think that the four girls attentively scribbling in their notebooks during Biology had only a night before been in complete Hell–each one in her own unique hell. But the sun had to rise eventually, and with it...a new hope, a new energy. It was weird. By all rights Sarah, Nancy, Rochelle and Bonnie should have been depressed. By all rights, they should have given in.

But Manon had other plans.

"Hey Sarah," Nancy furtively whispered, craning her head past Bonnie to grab the light-haired brunette's attention. "You wanna go on a little...field trip?"

"Miss Downs," the gray-habited nun sitting at the front of the class chided the Goth chick with the short, elegantly coiffed black hair, "I hate to interrupt your little social gathering..."

Nance, Bonnie, and Rochelle immediately broke into hysterics...it was hard not to when that silly skeleton with the slack jaw and the goofy grin was hanging next to "Mother Superior" like that. The fourth girl tried to stay serious, gluing the corners of her mouth down as if she was too enraptured by the intricacies of the protozoa to notice. She wasn't sure how she was to act around them, if they were friends or what. Though didn't the Mean One just ask her to go out with them?

Field Trip?

"Sorry, Sister," Nancy spit out between badly-suppressed laughter.

And the laughter was, apparently, infectious. Sarah let her defenses melt away with the sound of her own giggling.

She was In.

The name of the bus they rode was called "Second Wind," and it was very appropriate. For despite the sunglasses-clad quartet's outwardly sulky, tough exterior they felt quite happy and excited, possessing the same buoyant energy as the three rugrats with the blond pigtails that were staring at them. Sarah's first instinct was to smile and wave at them–she adored children, and hoped to be an elementary school teacher some day. But she couldn't lose her "cool pose," couldn't break ranks with the others.

And Nancy? She hated Brats. So...defenseless, puny. Pathetic.

And what were the Brats staring at, anyway? Nancy lowered her red-black shades at the children, staring at them coldly.

"Mommy, is it Halloween?" one of the kids asked with all sincerity, the others twisting around in their seat to watch the four girls exit the bus. It wasn't that they were dressed all that weird–you know, except for Nancy, all-black and Gothic as usual. But it was just...the confident way they walked, confidence mixed with a faint air of superiority & menace. The shades didn't help. And Sarah, Bonnie, and Rochelle had as of late taken to the custom of wearing pagan-like jewelry and other subtle, witchy items–due in no small part to Nancy's influence.

The spot they chose to get off at was near a local nature-walk, but somewhat on the deserted side. The portly, mustachioed bus-driver said in a patronizing, well-intentioned warning,

"You girls watch out for those weirdos."

Fool. How could he have known about their plans, about the fact that they wanted to be alone? Hell, they could more than defend themselves. Didn't "snake guy" find that out the hard way?

There was something about that bus driver that reminded Nancy of Stan. She looked back at him with mocking eyes as she descended the last step and planted her booted foot on the sidewalk.

"We ARE the weirdos, mister," she said with impudent glee.

The woods were certainly bedecked in all of Manon's glory, dappled sunlight bathing the four girls, birds gliding past them. They enthusiastically chatted amongst themselves about the magick they were about to embark on, the first real, purposeful magick they would perform together.

Shall I see tonight, sister, bathed in magic greet

Shall we meet on the hilltop, where the two roads meet

Poor Bonnie hung back a little from the other girls, unable to fully enjoy the warm beauty of the day–unlike the others she wore a long, heavy coat. Hiding herself, even from her friends...so ashamed of the scars that she never asked for or deserved. But maybe this time...Manon would listen. It was so crazy to think that, to hope for a miracle...

Danger is great joy, dark is bright as fire

Happy is our family, lonely is our ward

"Earth, Air, Fire, Water..."

In the clearing Nancy, Bonnie, Sarah & Rochelle sat, holding hands, bowing their heads down in concentration, and chanting the Elements.

"Earth, Air, Fire, Water. Earth, Air, Fire, Water..."

It was not merely enough to say the words, Nancy had taught them, but they had to mean it, live it, see the elements real and vital in their minds...

Each had a particular element "assigned" to them. Nancy was Fire–no surprise there. Bonnie was Air, though ironically she spent so much of her life too bundled up in obscuring layers of clothing to really "air out." Rochelle the award-winning swimmer was Water. And Sarah was Earth.

"Earth"
"Air"
"Fire"
"Water"

And as they chanted, there was a subtle shift in the world around them, in their immediate surroundings. Everything, all the living bits of Nature, seemed to be just a wee bit more attentive than they were before. Even the blades of grass...seemed to lean towards the girls as if attracted by the sun.

The pretty African-American girl with the corkscrew curls rested the blade of the athame gently against Bonnie's chest. Perhaps to a clueless bystander, the sight of these two standing in the middle of a field pointing knives at each other would seem...crazy. But there was a method to it, and Bonnie seemed completely calm.

"It is better that you should rush upon this blade," Rochelle said, "than to enter the Circle with fear in your heart. How do you enter?"

"With perfect love and perfect trust," Bonnie answered, reciting the words as she had been taught. Nancy looked on approvingly as Rochelle handed the blade over to Bonnie and the two girls shared a chaste kiss on the lips.

Then Bonnie approached Nancy and pointed the blade at her.

"It is better that you should rush upon this blade than to enter the circle with fear in your heart. How do you enter?"

"With perfect love and perfect trust," Nancy replied solemnly.

A knot tied in Sarah's stomach. She was next, having started the ritual by pointing the athame at Rochelle. But that was Rochelle. Rochelle and Bonnie, they were fine...but Nancy? Pointing a blade at HER?

The light-haired brunette felt guilty as she tried to stifle the tide of suspicion and fear that rose up her body, as the pointy blade poked harmlessly but poked nonetheless at the base of her heck, Nancy Downs at the other end of it.

"It is better that you should rush upon this blade than to enter the circle with fear in your heart. How do you enter?"

For a second Sarah could hardly speak, could hardly speak as she looked into Nancy's cold blue eyes. She felt almost...dead.

"With perfect love...and perfect trust."

"That's a girl," the Goth girl replied with a faint smile, offering her cheek to receive Sarah's kiss.

Then Nancy thrust the blade high into the air...

"As above..."

...then sunk it deep into the ground.

"...so below."

Nancy had always said to the girls that they would never involve blood in the rituals...that it wasn't the sort of magick that they did, that blood was only for the left-hand path. But surely a tiny little drop of the stuff as pricked from their fingers with a pin...surely a little bit dropped into the communal wine chalice wouldn't hurt?

It was as fine an altar as ever was spread back in times of the Golden Age of Magick–crystals, runes, tarot cards, even a clay pentacle. Sarah placed a framed photograph of her late mother in the mix as well...it seemed strangely appropriate, as if there was something the still figure in the sundress could contribute to the proceedings.

The other girls sucked at the still-fresh wounds on their fingers as Rochelle brushed back her hair and picked up the chalice.

"I drink of my sisters," she began, "and I ask for the ability...to not hate those who hate me. Especially racist pieces of bleached-blond shit like Laura Lizzie." Rochelle smiled in confident defiance and drank from the cup.

"Right on," Sarah said in support, taking the silver chalice from her friend. "I drink of my sisters, and I ask to love myself more, and to allow myself to be loved more by others..." She produced a photo from inside a book and dropped it upon the altar guiltily. "...especially Chris Hooker. I know it's pathetic..."

"Definitely pathetic," Rochelle chimed in good-naturedly.

Pathetic, Nancy thought to herself darkly as outwardly she showed concern and simply nodded her head.

Sarah having drunk her share, the chalice was passed on to Bonnie. By this point Bonnie had gotten "brave" enough to let one side of the coat fall off her shoulder a bit, revealing the horribly scarred skin beneath. Here, away from the world, surrounded only by her "sisters," she could take the chance to let a little bit of her Self show...

"I drink of my sisters, and I take into myself the power to be beautiful...outside as well as in."

Now it was Nancy's turn. It suddenly struck her the awesomeness of her position, her opportunity to petition the Great Manon for anything she wanted. She paused for a few seconds, her mind racing. What should she ask for? Money? Chris back? What?

She cleared her throat and began,

"I drink of my sisters," she said slowly and carefully, "and I take into myself...all the power of Manon."

"That's all?" Sarah asked with light-hearted sarcasm as Nancy drank.

And Nancy drank...and drank...and drank until the red wine spilled down her chin.

"Blessed be," she said with a large grin when she was through.

"Blessed be," the other girls chimed in, laughing. "Thought you were going to burp," Sarah added through a giggle. In fact the girls were having such a splendid time being silly that they didn't notice the first butterflies...

Then Rochelle tilted back her head. "Oh my God," she said in wonder as she took in the sight of the hundreds of golden winged creatures hovering above them.

"What?" asked Sarah.

"Look!"

The quartet gasped at the beauty of the etherial creatures that now surrounded them.

"It's Manon," Bonnie said matter-of-factly, voicing what the others silently knew without a doubt.

"He's listening to us," Nancy said, wincing at the sound of her own breathless shock. She never thought this would happen. She never thought that this would really happen. Never really dreamed it...

Bonnie tentatively let a butterfly rest upon her hand, a little frightened, a lot awed. Then she let out a laugh of pure joy.

And Nancy kept staring up at them, staring past them, into the sky, into the sun, into the boundless unchanging face of Manon.

Father, we are waiting for you to appear.
Do you feel the panic, can you see the fear ?
Mother, we are waiting for you to give consent.
If there's to be a marriage, we need contempt.

Danger is great joy, dark is bright as fire,
Happy is our family, lonely is the ward.