The Witch and Warlock by Lawrence Watt-Evans & C.J. Henderson & Lawrence Watt-Evans & Joseph Conrad & Janet Fox

The Witch and Warlock by Lawrence Watt-Evans & C.J. Henderson & Lawrence Watt-Evans & Joseph Conrad & Janet Fox

Author:Lawrence Watt-Evans & C.J. Henderson & Lawrence Watt-Evans & Joseph Conrad & Janet Fox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: witch, warlock, magic, sorcery, supernatural
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2015-11-18T16:00:00+00:00


THE WITCH OF FAITH LANE, by Skadi meic Beorh

The witch lived in the little white house sitting in a big yard we were always tempted to cross as a shortcut to Mr. Bedgood’s candy store where one-eyed Jack, the old yellow hunting dog, would greet us with a sad wag of his broken tail as he hopped toward us on three legs.

We were terrified of the witch. If she caught us crossing her land, she would make us peel potatoes for the rest of our lives! It was a delicious terror we held, and one always heightened by the cool air of Fall—a chill that we heritably associated with Winter, and so connected with witches, one-eyed dogs and death by potato-peeling. It was a certain comforting kind of terror that kept us alive during the pale-horse stage of early childhood.

One crisp Halloween day, a gang of eight or nine of us got money together and headed out to Bedgood’s. We needed to buy candy just in case no one gave us any that night. Always good to be on the safe side.

It was a long hike for little seven and eight-year-old legs; a good day’s adventure if we did it just right. If we stopped to pester the high-fenced Doberman pinscher Baron Von Ripper; then after that came to a stop to eye the Little Dirt Road…see who’s down it, or who might be coming out of the haunted house where the lady shot her husband five times with five different guns one hot summer afternoon. For some reason this house didn’t scare us. Maybe because it was a ranch-style. Now, if it had been an old turreted Victorian home with spooky smoky windows and a creaky old porch, that would have been a different story altogether…we would have loved it! No such luck.

We were a raggle-taggle band of ragamuffins always and forever hoofing and puffing and chattering and laughing all the way to wherever we were going…but always past the potato-witch’s house. We went to the candy store alot where we would buy, more than actual real-life candy, scary-picture stickers (nails with blood dripping off them), scratch-n-sniffs (watermelon was my favorite), day-glo green slide-whistles and sparklers that shot out a similar colored green fire. Anyway…

While Terry had us all enthralled about how he had torn a lawn mower apart and then put it back together…and about how he was going to grow his hair and never cut it again because he was an Indian…

Quincy Pugh got caught by the witch. We froze, and her sister Kincey started crying. I ran, but then realized I was running to nowhere, and Robbie and Terry called me a crybaby though I wasn’t crying, so I stopped and stiff-legged it back to our closing circle of friends. Mary Jane Ingles wondered why Quincy had thought she could out-run the witch’s Chihuahua, who had herded our friend toward the little garden and made her disappear, just like that! behind the old crumbly storage shed.



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