by Foxglove Lee
The Witch of the Winter Woods © 2017 by Foxglove Lee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design © 2017 Foxglove Lee
First Edition December 2017
The Witch of the Winter Woods
A Paranormal Christmas Tale
Queer Ghost Stories
By Foxglove Lee
A million thoughts flooded Nicole’s mind as she drove the rural routes of Maryland. Of course she was concerned about the weather. Late December, who wouldn’t be? She wasn’t familiar with this neck of the woods, never been here in her life. And on top of all that, she’d be meeting Darla’s parents for the first time.
Darla had told her she was being unfair, painting all small-town folks with the same brush. Just because Mom and Pop lived way out yonder didn’t mean they were closed-minded. Darla claimed she never had to come out of the closet with them. Her parents knew she was a lesbian before she’d even heard the word. And they had no problem with it.
Not just that, but they couldn’t wait to meet Nicole. Aside from one blustery relationship in high school, Darla had never really had a girlfriend. Her parents were excited to meet the young lady their daughter couldn’t stop talking about.
Nicole wasn’t sure if she could take Darla’s assurances at face value. Maybe she was just projecting her own family dynamics onto Darla’s kin, but Nicole couldn’t imagine a set of parents being as warm and loving and okay with their daughter’s sexuality as Darla claimed hers were.
Oh, maybe she was just jealous. Jealous of the supportive parents, the spacious house Darla had described to her in detail. They even had a pet rabbit, for goodness’ sake!
Nicole had been on her own way too long. She’d had to be self-sufficient from an earlier age than any kid should have to be.
Hey, at least she had a roof over her head now. A real apartment! Her 1997 Dodge Caravan had served its purpose, but it was definitely nice to have a place with hot and cold running water, fridge, stove, the works.
But, you know, even if Darla’s parents were as supportive as she claimed they were, who’s to say their support would extend in Nicole’s direction? What kind of parents actually liked the person their daughter was dating—regardless of gender?
Especially when their daughter met this person on the internet…
Nicole knew there was nothing sketchy about meeting your future girlfriend online. Well, there could be, but not in their case. Darla had been out to visit her, so they’d already seen each other in person, spent a glorious weekend together. But weren’t parents supposed to be suspicious about people their daughter met on a forum?
Why yes. Yes, they were.
So why had Darla’s parents invited Nicole to stay with them for Christmas? Did they plan to pull her aside for a wee chat? Tell her to leave their daughter alone? Or, at very least, warn her they’d be keeping a close eye on her formerly-homeless self?
Maybe Nicole’s imagination was overly caffeinated, just like she was. Plenty of coffee had accompanied her on this drive. Maybe Darla’s parents were every bit as sweet and supportive as she claimed. Maybe Nicole didn’t need to be as nervous as she was.
This might just be the best Christmas ever.
Hey, look at that—it’s even started snowing up ahead!
Nicole had had her trepidations about making this drive, today especially. Winter solstice was an ominous day to travel. She’d been afraid there’d be a blizzard and she’d get stuck in a snow bank. Well, luckily, the coast had been clear up to this point. And now she was so close to Darla’s parents’ place she wasn’t too concerned about the weather.
She’d arrive at Darla’s parents’ house in a couple short minutes, settle in before a roaring fire. Darla would be waiting at the door with a mug of hot cocoa in hand. She’d plant a Christmas kiss on Nicole’s lips even though her parents were watching from down the hall. Her parents would smile and sigh and be happy for their young love.
They’d all be happy together.
Jeeze, where did all this snow come from?
Sure Nicole had seen a flutter up ahead, but this stretch of road was practically arctic! Looked like it had been snowing for weeks. All the trees were weighed down in blankets of white. The road was slick with compressed snow. Flakes the size of cotton balls blasted down from the sky.
Nicole turned on her wipers, but too little too late. She was coming up on a figure, someone standing in the street. Why on earth would anyone do such a thing? Stand in front of oncoming traffic in a blizzard?
But Nicole had no time to answer. All her energy went into her valiant attempt to not run down this person in the road.
Swiftly to the left. Would have made better sense to swerve to the right, but there wasn’t a wide enough shoulder. Too many trees in that direction. If she swerved that way, she’d crash for sure.
Swerving into the oncoming vehicle lane wasn’t exactly smart, but there weren’t any lights shining in her eyes. What else could she do? She moved to the wrong side of the road, nearly avoiding a collision with the gruesome hag standing in the street, staring her down, seeming to dare Nicole to slaughter her.
Suicide by motor vehicle. Nicole had seen it all before.
Her heart pounded as she swerved quickly around the old woman.
She returned just as quickly to her own lane.
When she pulled over, her minivan was blocking part of the road. It couldn’t be helped. She needed to regain her composure before she could go on. Her heart was beating way too fast. She could hear it like a drum in her ears.
Fear.
Shock.
That old woman’s face in her mind’s eye, that serene expression.
When the fear subsided, anger took hold. How dare that old woman stand in front of her vehicle? If the old lady wanted to die, she should kill herself the old fashioned way, without involving passing motorists.
Nicole glanced into her rear view mirror.
Through the cotton ball snowfall, she could see the old woman’s figure still standing in the road.
Waiting for the next car to take her out.
Hopping down from the van, Nicole trudged through the snow, pulling her unzipped jacket tight around body.
“Hey! You!” she shouted. “You! Hey, I’m talking to you! Answer me, y’old bag!”
When the old woman didn’t answer, Nicole wondered if perhaps she was deaf. Deaf, and blind too. Maybe she didn’t realize she’d wandered into the road. Maybe she was confused.
Her heart softened. Darla was always telling her she really ought to give people the benefit of the doubt. She was really bad at that. But she could try.
As she approached the old woman, she was shocked to find the lady looking right at her. Hadn’t this woman been facing away from her only seconds ago? Nicole didn’t see her turn around.
Shaking off her surprise, Nicole reached for the woman’s shoulders. “Hello? Are you okay? What are you doing out in the street?”
The old woman’s beady eyes stared up at her blankly. Scraggly grey hair cascaded across the burgundy shawl strewn across her shoulders. Underneath was an old-fashioned nightdress. Bare feet.
“Oh my goodness,” Nicole said, realizing what she was looking at: a resident from an assisted living facility, someone who needed care. Staff was probably searching for her this
very minute. “Let’s get you into my van where it’s nice and warm. Then we’ll call… I don’t know who, but we’ll call someone, get you back where you belong.”
When Nicole cupped a concerned hand under the old lady’s elbow, the woman let out a bloodcurdling scream. Nicole jumped nearly a foot in the air, no exaggeration—that’s how shocked she was by the woman’s cry.
And if she was shocked by the horrific scream, how to describe how she felt when the woman bolted into the woods? So fast Nicole didn’t even see her run. One second she was standing in the street, the next she was over by the tree line.
Whoosh. Gone.
A sense of duty compelled Nicole to abandon her vehicle where it was parked, half-on-half-off the road, and chase after the elderly woman in the nightdress.
She had no idea where she was headed when she ran into the woods. The old woman was a whisper of cotton, burgundy and silver across the snow and through the trees. There was a bit of a path, but not cleared.
Twigs and branches underfoot.
How could the old lady move so quickly when Nicole found herself tangled in brambles at every turn? She’d worn a nice outfit to meet Darla’s parents for the first time. Now her pant legs were going to be soaked.
Still, she followed the flash of white, the flapping shawl, the silver mane. She followed until she saw a light in the distance. An orange glow through the window of a stone cottage.
Did someone really live out here? In the middle of the woods like this?
Nicole gravitated toward the dwelling. Hard to not to find fire appealing, especially on a cold winter’s night. She found herself knocking at the low wooden door, telling herself she was only going to ask if the residents had seen an old lady rush past, if they knew who she might be.
The door swept open and warm air met her face. She ducked through the door without even asking if she could come in, and once she was inside she was shocked to find herself face to face with the woman she’s been chasing, or at least a reasonable facsimile.
“Come in, come in,” the old woman said, grabbing Nicole by the arm and dragging her toward the wood burner in the center of the cottage. This lady had some powerful fingers, amazingly strong for someone who had seemed so frail outdoors. “Warm yourself by the fire, my dear. It’s cold as a tomb outside.”
“Yes, yes it is.”
Nicole allowed herself to be dragged toward the fire. She couldn’t quite make sense of everything she’d just seen and experienced.
“What can I get for you?” the woman asked, brushing her hands down her thick skirts.
Wait, hadn’t she been wearing something different outdoors? Now she had on some sort of old-fashioned blouse and a brownish wool skirt, tattered leather shoes. Nicole was certain the woman had been dressed differently before, but as she stared into the flames her mind felt fuzzy. She wasn’t quite sure of anything, really.
“You’ve come from afar,” the old woman said. “Come for Christmas, to visit your love.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Nicole brightened inside and out, sensing a strange camaraderie between herself and the silver-haired woman. “Do you know Darla? Her house must be nearby. Did she tell you about me?”
Nicole could sense that the old woman was speaking to her, but suddenly she felt so strange. All that driving and coffee must be catching up with her because she was starting to feel dizzy. The woman was talking, but all she heard were mumbles.
Her head felt heavy. So heavy. She struggled to remain conscious.
“Do you mind if I just lie down for a second?” Nicole asked the old woman.
Without waiting for an answer, she curled up on the floor and went to sleep.
When she awoke, her bleary eyes perceived the elderly woman hunched over the wood burner. There was a blackened pot on there, and she was stirring it with a wooden spoon. Nicole could smell something both fresh and medicinal, which seemed strange for midwinter. This lady must have a greenhouse or something.
She thought it must be some kind of tea until the old lady fished out a rag and brought it over to Nicole, placed the warm and fragrant fabric across her forehead like a poultice.
“What is this?” Nicole asked weakly, finding it strangely difficult to speak. She must have still been half asleep.
The woman shushed her kindly, told her not to exert herself. “You’ve been through enough.”
“I have?” Nicole asked. What had Darla told this woman about her young life? “I have. Yes, I have…”
Sitting on the floor beside Nicole and in front of the wood burner, the elderly woman said, “The name’s Ma.”
Nicole smiled meekly. “I’m Nicole, but I guess you already knew that. Darla must have told you all about me.”
When Ma didn’t respond, Nicole said, “I’m really anxious about meeting her parents. Are they nice? Darla says they’re nice, says they’re not judgmental, but you know what life’s been like for me. It’s hard to believe there really are parents like that in the world, parents who love you no matter what, who love you so much they’re willing to love who you love. Are they really like that, Ma? Will they really love me like family, right from the start?”
The elderly woman looked like she was about to say something when a rumbling sound from outside caught her attention.
A murmur, a mumble.
Was someone shouting in the distance? What were they saying?
Nicole’s brain started feeling fuzzy again. How could she be sleepy when she just woke up?
“Come,” Ma commanded.
“Come where?” Nicole moaned before abandoning herself to the abyss.
“Wake yourself, girl!” the woman called.
Try as she might, Nicole couldn’t respond.
She heard a slapping sound, felt a sharp burn across her cheek. Had the old woman smacked her? Seemed so. She’d been spanked before, in a variety of contexts, and she recognized the harsh sizzle against her skin. But she was still too tired to react.
“Git up,” the old woman cried. “We need to git! We need to git!”
Nicole had slept on many floors in her time, but none so comfortable as this. She could live on this floor. She could stay here forever. Wouldn’t mind in the least.
But what was that crackle in her ear? What was that new scent infusing her nostrils—fire, but a new kind of fire. More was burning that just wood. Much, much more.
She felt herself being lifted by some unknown force, carried through the clouds as if by angels. What a glorious feeling! Soaring on the wings of the angels, or perhaps on someone’s craggy shoulder.
The crackling sound roared and suddenly she felt hot, very hot, very hot indeed. Burning hair. What an unpleasant odor. She buried her nose in something more fragrant, fabric infused by the freshness of herbs.
Colder now. Colder still. And in her ear not the crackle of flames but the panting of exertion. No longer floating. Falling now. Landing hard against the ground. Cold snow. Sweet cover of white.
And then her name pronounced on familiar lips: “Nicole! Mom, Pop, it’s Nicole! I think she’s dead!”
* * * *
She awoke to the sight of twinkling fairy lights. Shimmering globes: green, gold and red. A real Christmas tree. She could smell the pine-y-ness of it. And another lovely scent in the distance: apples and cinnamon. The warm aroma brought a smile to her lips.
“Mom, Pop! I think she’s waking up!”
Darla’s voice. Darla’s house. So homey. This couch, so comfortable. This quilt, so warm. Darla’s hand clutching hers, trembling as Mom and Pop rushed into the room from somewhere else. The kitchen maybe.
They looked just the way Nicole imagined them: neat and proper, kind eyes, welcoming smiles.
“Are you okay?” Darla asked. “We’ve been so worried about you. The doctor will be around as soon as he can get through the snow, but for now we’re supposed to keep an eye on you.”
Darla’s mother introduced herself and her husband, told Nicole to call them Mom and Pop.
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Nicole sat with great effort, raising one hand to her aching forehead. Was this a bandage on her head? What had happened to her? She remembered a stone cottage, a fire, like a dream.
There was a fire crackling just beyond the foot of the couch. A fire in a stone hearth. Maybe that’s what she’d dreamed.
“How did I get here?” Nicole asked. There seemed to be a gap in her memory. “I was driving… and now I’m here.”
Darla gazed up at her parents, who looked down at her with concern.
“You don’t remember what happened?” asked Pop.
