Write by the Cards: Day Eighteen
A Sacrifice
If you’re new to The Rebel MFA Way, welcome! This is my daily work for my Write by the Cards: 30 Day Challenge that I’m hosting. Learn more here. Scroll down to the end to see my behind-the-scenes commentary and source material.
To overcome the setback, the character realized they had to give up {draw a card}.
Born in the damp hills of County Clare, Ireland, with eyes too sharp for comfort and a wit to match, she had “troublemaker” written all over her—if troublemakers were also gifted with supernatural healing abilities and a tendency to piss off priests. Spoiler: they are.
From the start, Biddy had a knack for making people uncomfortable. It wasn’t her fault, really; she just saw things—little flashes of insight that came uninvited. People in the village whispered about her “gift” while also conveniently ignoring her grinding poverty and the fact that her parents were basically one bad harvest away from disaster.
When her mother died, Biddy was left to fend for herself. And let’s be clear: survival was not her strong suit. She tried fitting in, working hard, keeping her head down. But the thing about being Biddy Early is that Fate does not let you just exist. It gives you a Blue Bottle and says, “Good luck, sucker.”
The Blue Bottle came into Biddy’s life during a rock-bottom moment. It was small, unassuming, and cold to the touch—blue glass that seemed to hum faintly when she held it. She didn’t know what to do with it at first, but the next day, when a villager’s cow started foaming at the mouth, Biddy had a hunch. One drop of whatever magic swirled inside that bottle, and the cow was not only alive but producing the creamiest milk anyone had ever tasted.
Word spread. Quickly.
Here’s the thing about small-town fame: it’s a double-edged sword. On the one hand, everyone wants something from you. Sick children, dying livestock, cursed lovers—you name it, they brought it to Biddy’s little cottage. On the other hand, people don’t trust what they can’t understand, and the church wasn’t exactly handing out merit badges for “probable witchcraft.”
Biddy handled it the way anyone would: with sharp remarks, a healthy dose of sass, and a talent for making the most self-righteous parishioner feel like an idiot. But even she couldn’t shake the loneliness. Her power wasn’t just a gift; it was a wall. People came to her for miracles, sure, but they didn’t invite her to their weddings or christenings.
The thing about magic—and power—is that it always comes with a price. For years, Biddy had used the Blue Bottle to heal, to help, to keep herself afloat in a world that didn’t really want her. But she knew, deep down, that the bottle wasn’t hers. It belonged to something older and wilder than she could name.
Her final miracle was for a child. A girl, pale as milk, whose parents had tried every other healer within three counties before knocking on Biddy’s door. The bottle felt heavier that day, the liquid inside darker, almost reluctant. Biddy hesitated, just for a moment, before tipping it to the girl’s lips.
The child gasped, color rushing back to her cheeks, and for a second, Biddy felt relief. Then the bottle slipped from her fingers. The glass shattered on the stone floor and Biddy stood there, staring at the shards. She knew what it meant. The magic was gone. And without it, she was just Biddy Early, the strange woman on the hill.
Biddy lived out her final years quietly. She still offered advice, though her days of miracles were behind her. The villagers whispered, of course—about the shattered bottle, about the strange lights that flickered in her cottage windows at night, about the woman who had saved so many and asked for nothing in return.
When she died, the hills seemed quieter, the wind less wild. The Blue Bottle? Gone, naturally. Some say the fae took it back, others that it melted into the land. Either way, Biddy Early became a story, passed from lips to ears with a mixture of awe and regret.
Because here’s the truth: she was never just a healer, or a witch, or a weirdo with a bottle. She was a reminder that the world doesn’t give power away freely—it demands something in return. And Biddy? She gave everything even when she never received a thing.
Behind-the-Scenes Commentary
This was a fun/interesting one because prior to pulling this card, I hadn’t heard of Biddy Early. And I LOVE that this deck include both fictional and real-life “witches.”
I am well versed in spending time with fictional witches, but as you probably know, the history on witches in the real world is not as easy to come by. Including Biddy. I’ve relayed the basics here, but I bet there’s so much more to her story. Maybe someday I’ll discover it and write it.
Source Material
Ask the Witch Tarot by Francesca Matteoni