The Witch

by Mary Ann Mitchell

  “Please, naked lady, tell me what to do. Don’t let me make a mistake and cause others to be hurt.” He rested his head on the pillow and lay the naked lady next to him. She’d watch over him and keep his momma away.

  Brandy stood outside the witch’s house. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. How had he escaped the cage? Had the lady come back? Did the troll change his mind and save Brandy? Brandy wished he could remember, for he didn’t like empty space inside his brain.

  The cottage looked the same. Snakes still wiggled and sunned themselves on the path leading to the front door. The knocker in the shape of garlic on the door tempted him to knock. But why would he? He was free. This is what he wanted. He looked down at his clothes and saw that every stitch he had arrived in was back on his body. His shoes looked polished. His shirt pressed. His pants were even clean.

  He should run away, he thought. Far away and never have to see that old witch ever again.

  The door to the cottage swung open, but no one stood in the doorway. He moved forward to peek inside.

  The cottage was still. No ticking clocks, no clanking pipes, no patter of the witch’s big feet.

  He realized he didn’t know her name and doubted he really wanted to.

  “She’s found herself another.”

  Brandy spun around to stare at the troll.

  “She mourned a little bit for you but then moved on, as you should do.”

  “Who has taken my place?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” replied the troll. “Go home, Brandy.”

  “If I go home, will she follow me?”

  “She never travels far from this cottage.”

  “Then she won’t look for me?”

  The troll shook his shaggy head.

  “What will happen to the person in the cage?”

  “She’ll probably boil her and serve her for dinner.”

  Shocked, Brandy didn’t know which way to turn.

  “I wouldn’t go back into the cottage if I were you. I’d go far, far away.”

  “But I can’t abandon the person in the cage.”

  “Why not?” The troll looked very perplexed.

  “Because I should be in the cage instead. It isn’t fair for someone else to suffer.”

  “Do you think it fair that you should suffer?”

  Brandy could see the logic to running far from the cottage. He liked standing outside under the sun, smelling the flowers, hearing birds chirp.

  “I can make a passage for you among the snakes,” the troll offered. “I’ll make sure you come to no harm. Down the road there’s a bus stop. It’s due in twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes? Then I must have at least a few minutes to say goodbye to the witch.”

  “She’ll not let you go. If she finds you, it will be the end. There’ll be no second chance.” The troll spoke in a stern voice.

  “Why is she so mean? She wasn’t always mean, was she?” Brandy asked.

  “Disappointments. She’s had many disappointments. They’ve hardened her heart.”

  “That’s sad. We should feel sorry for her.”

  “Why?” The troll scratched his head with his huge six-fingered hand. Lice alighted from his mane.

  “Maybe if she hadn’t had so many problems she’d

  be nice.”

  “Not her. Too selfish.”

  “What should I do, Mr. Troll? I feel I owe her something.”

  “Not at all. She birthed you and abandoned you.” “My mother. She wouldn’t harm me.” The troll looked skeptical.

  Chapter

  82

  “Wake up, Stephen.” Robin pushed against his shoulder. “What’s that thing sticking in your cheek?”

  Alarmed, Stephen immediately felt the cheek that lay on the pillow. He had rolled over onto the goddess during the night, and now his cheek felt semi-numb.

  “What’s that?”

  “A goddess. I keep her close at night so Momma won’t visit me in my dreams.”

  “Does it work?”

  “It did last night. I only talked to the troll.”

  Robin sat back in her wheelchair and covered her face with both her hands.

  “Robin?”

  She dropped her hands into her lap.

  “I hardly ever know what you’re talking about. We certainly don’t need to add trolls to the problems we have.”

  “He’s a friendly troll. Although he did kidnap Brandy.”

  “This is making less sense as you explain it. Grannie Smith has breakfast on the table. And your dad called.”

  “I missed his telephone call? Didn’t he ask for me?”

  Robin shrugged.

  “Grannie Smith didn’t give me any details. I think he called because my mother’s in the hospital. I get the feeling he wants to come and take us all back to Austin.”

  “He can’t come here. Momma will hurt him again. She watched me all night.”

  “Why didn’t you close the window?”

  “ ‘Cause I feel sorry for Momma.”

  “Sorry? She tried to steal your body. She killed Grandma and Molly. She hurt my mother and your father badly. How could you feel sorry for someone so cruel?”

  “You’re sounding like the troll,” Stephen said, thinking that maybe both might be right.

  “I don’t care about your stupid troll. And you may not be able to save the baby.”

  “I won’t be able to forget the baby. Her shrieks sounded so painful. Momma’s trying to push the baby’s soul out to make way for her own spirit.” He looked down at the goddess in the palm of his hand. “I feel stronger when the naked lady is near me. I’ll know what to do if I keep her close to me.”

  “The people who bought your house aren’t going to believe you if you tell them your mother is haunting the house. They’ll think you’re making up stories.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to see the baby again, Robin?”

  “If you insist.”

  Chapter

  83

  The old woman grunted as she tucked herself farther behind the water-stained cardboard boxes. Not only did she have to stay out of the sun, she also had to worry about the horrid dogs that followed their master every place he went, including the basement.

  “Where is the boy?” she muttered to herself. By now Asomodeus should have caused some sort of chaos at the child’s house. She expected such an incident would prick the child’s guilt and send him searching for his mother. The witch didn’t know how to do a true possession. All she did wss terrorize the infant without sending its spirit fleeing. The witch’s son seemed far more able, although he still didn’t know the breadth of his skills.

  The old woman heard the dogs bark and drew deeper into her filthy crevice. She became caught in a giant spiderweb; the sticky threads clung to her cloak, whitening the dark material. She pulled forward but the web dragged her back. In her fury she flailed about, managing only to coat her fingers in a slimy glue. For a second she stopped to rest and felt the tango of the large, black spider coming to greet her. Lifting her head she saw the slender legs scurry down the web. Unfortunately her hair became entangled in the carefully patterned threads.

  The staff remained gripped in her right hand. Sending all her power into that hand, she set the staff on fire, burning the web but not the staff itself. As if made of straw, the web flared and the unwary spider didn’t have time to withdraw. The old woman pulled away quickly as the web’s fibers dissolved. The spider instantly became ash.

  The basement door opened.

  “I think I have some down in the basement. It’ll just take a second.”

  “Now what?” the old woman wondered out loud. She peeked carefully around one of the boxes and saw the man had not come down but had left the door ajar. She heard an annoying whine, and then one of the dogs slipped his snout into the crack and opened the door wide enough to give him space to enter. Down the steps clicked the dreaded paws. She hated dogs. They didn’t mind their own business.


  “I’ll get him for you,” cried Stephen’s voice.

  “The boy is here,” the witch whispered to herself, almost forgetting the Labrador retriever that skittered directly toward the box she hid behind.

  Again she withdrew to the narrow crevice where the spider ash dirtied the hem of her cloak.

  “Where are you, Spike?” called Stephen, coming down the familiar staircase. “Have you found something?”

  The dog whimpered and stood in front of an old, stained cardboard box.

  “Is there something in there?” Stephen touched the box haphazardly.

  “Momma, are you down here?” he asked.

  “No, foolish child, death is keeping company with her today.”

  Stephen pulled back the dog, holding it by its collar.

  “Sit,” he demanded, and to his surprise the dog did.

  The old woman sniffed the air and relaxed when she couldn’t smell the dog’s bad breath. Slowly she moved forward, leaving a trail of ash behind her. Once near the edge of the box she peeked around.

  “My goodness, Stephen, you look bigger and healthier. You were awful pale the last time I saw you. Except of course for that red flush your mother put in your chubby cheeks.”

  “I thought I destroyed the uglies.”

  “You did. Almost. I may have an old body, but I can get it to move pretty quick when I have good reason to.”

  “How are you surviving without the box?”

  “In dark corners, beneath dirty laundry.”

  “You sent the crow.”

  “The crow?”

  “The one that hurt my aunt.”

  “Your aunt! How is she? Brilliant of her to come when she did last time.”

  “You hate her.”

  “Your mother has reason to hate her more than I.”

  “But you sent the crow. Don’t lie.”

  “Why would I bother?”

  “ ‘Cause you want to get even for her taking me away.”

  “Who had more to lose when you vanished?”

  Stephen sulked for a few seconds before answering.

  “Momma.”

  “Am I your momma?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to be my momma.”

  “You hurt my feelings, boy. I’ve been sitting with your mother for months now. Making the long nights bearable. She was very upset when you rejected her.”

  “She wanted to steal my life.”

  “Your body. She’s willing to take you along with her as a silent partner. Worse than sending you from your body, since you’d have to partake in her scheming. And that would be such a shame because of the potential bubbling inside you. I feel it. You have abilities you can’t imagine. You could call to the great ones and have them bow before you.”

  “Like the uglies.” Stephen’s derisive voice made the witch clench her hands.

  “Not those fools. Greater spirits who can bring their own disguises to life in this world. The charm you wear can release the energy you possess.”

  Stephen reached up and felt the naked lady beneath his shirt.

  “You wear her because you must.”

  “I wear it in memory of Momma.”

  “Liar. She keeps you safe in bed, protecting you from your momma. Why else would you be wearing it now?”

  “The naked lady belonged to Momma.”

  “But it rarely worked for your mother. She needed you and the wooden goddess to spark her magic.”

  “You owe your existence to Momma.”

  “I owe an act of revenge to her. I have completed my contract. I want now to work with a great conjuror.” The witch bowed to Stephen.

  “You’re a traitor,” spat out Stephen. “My mother may not be powerful, but you are weaker. You need to latch on to someone of this world to survive. Alone you will be destroyed. The sun could drive your spirit back into the hell from which you came. A curse laid upon you would subdue you into slavery. Just as my mother did.”

  “An irritating child,” the witch muttered.

  “You speak of her being a weak witch; what are you that she could bind you to a stupid wooden box? And when it is no more you are left cowering in the basement.” “I offer you lessons. Perhaps you may surpass my skills, but first you must learn how to use the magic that travels with you.”

  “My Mother could give me that information.” “But at a price. The price is your soul. She has lost hers to the devil and will take you with her if willingly you combine with her. The blackness of her sins will rot your guts, child. The pungent smell of death will always be within your nostrils, and the coldness that makes you shiver will freeze your blood until your heart and mind are ice.”

  “Momma doesn’t have to go to hell.” “She’ll certainly not be invited to the Lord’s banquet.” The witch chuckled and leaned heavily on her staff.

  “It’s you that can’t change the future. You were born of evil. Momma said so. You neither love nor hate. That clay is the best you can do for a body.”

  “This clay? It is the worst vehicle I have ever had to use. You and your mother aren’t even skillful in the art of sculpturing.” Abruptly the old woman stopped speaking. A frown darkened her brow, and her lips moved in a nervous quiver before she could speak again. “We argue. We fight. Yet we forget how much we can give to each other. Work together and we drive our powers forward into this world’s mass confusion. No one will suspect the sway we would have over all that rules. Nothing could be changed or continued without our express wishes.”

  “You and I? Where does that leave Momma?”

  The old woman gave Stephen a weary smile.

  “Your mother’s existence is in your hands.”

  “I think it’s time she went to heaven.”

  “Heaven? Can you define that word for me?”

  “It’s where the dead can rest without being bothered by evil things like you.”

  “Your mother isn’t ready for a rest. She wants life back.”

  “Daddy says I’m responsible for the consequences of my own actions. Momma took a bad action, and now she—”

  “Must pay,” the old woman interrupted. “What did she do that was so bad? Abandon you? Tie a noose around her neck and hang herself in this very room?”

  Stephen squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Yes, you remember, boy, the doll-like limpness of her body dangling in mid-air just about where you are standing.”

  Stephen’s eyes flew open.

  “No, she was across the room!” he shouted.

  “Yes, you remember and always will. ‘Momma needs help,’ weren’t those your words? ‘Help Momma,’ you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks because Momma didn’t answer your call, and in your heart you knew she never would again.”

  “Her hair covered her face and her feet were bare. “

  “The clothes she wore were dirty and stained. She hadn’t washed in days. She hadn’t spoken in days.” The old woman moved closer to Stephen.

  “Momma touched my cheek and kissed me goodnight. When she saw me she would give me a faint smile.”

  “Still, she didn’t take you to the basement with her the very last time. Her last act she needed to do alone. She never stopped to think how you would feel. It didn’t matter to her.”

  “She hurt really bad.”

  “How did you feel her last days? Did she hurt you, Stephen?”

  “She didn’t mean to.”

  “The truth is she didn’t think of you at all. You would serve as her way back. She would rob you without a pang of regret.”

  “Momma loved me. Momma loved me.” His voice quivered within his throat. “Only she’s not Momma anymore. She’s been soiled by you uglies.”

  The witch attempted to reach out to the boy, but the dog growled from behind Stephen’s legs.

  “Don’t be a fool for your mother. I will show you how to use the goddess. Her secrets will spill out onto your hands and seep into your flesh. Love your Mother but also beware of her.”

  Stephen grabb
ed Spike’s collar and walked toward the staircase. He stopped at the first step to look down at the dog.

  “Wait!” the old woman screeched as she moved onto the center of the basement floor. “Pay attention to what I say.” Her age turned her voice to gravel. She breathed in his innocence and she wanted to puke. “Come back here,” she demanded, her voice filled with disgust.

  Stephen let his hand slip from the dog’s collar. Spike instantly sprang on the old woman. The staff flashed a few sparks before being broken into bits by the chomp of the dog’s powerful jaws.

  Stephen didn’t look back. He climbed the stairs hearing first the laughter coming from the living room and then the squawk of a baby in pain.

  Chapter

  84

  After leaving the basement Stephen walked to the nursery. Mrs. Crowther sat in the rocking chair singing Momma’s lullaby.

  “Don’t sing that to the baby.”

  “Pardon me, Stephen?”

  “The baby doesn’t like the song. That’s why she’s crying.”

  “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Rock-A-Bye Baby. Anything, but not that lullaby.”

  “But it was your favorite, Stephen.”

  His mother wrapped him in her cold arms and the baby quieted.

  “Perhaps you’re right. She’s seems to be settling down. Do you think it was the lullaby or my singing?” Mrs. Crowther smiled at him.

  “I’m ashamed to say I didn’t sense you were in the house.”

  His mother’s voice sounded apologetic. The baby had captured all her senses. The baby with the chubby body and the dimpled cheeks. The baby that could give Momma life again.

  “Since she’s being so good, why don’t we take her into the living room where my granddaughter can be the center of attention.” Mrs. Crowther stood and walked toward him. She touched his arm and immediately pulled away. “You’re so cold. Are you feeling all right?” The woman called her husband who came in a hurry followed by Robin in her wheelchair. “He doesn’t look well. I’m afraid he may have something that the baby can catch,” Mrs. Crowther said to her husband.