Friday, October 11, 2019
Witch of Apple Hill ~ Part 2
“I just need to know that they are leaving and when,” she explained. “I hate cursing anyone, but these men are asking for it by staying. I gave them plenty of time to move along.”
The spider let out a little chirp before crawling down her body and out the door. The witch stood on her hill, among the apple trees, and glared at the sleepy little town. Those men would leave or they would pay dearly.
Elise Pendergraph wandered through the streets of the sleepy little hallow called Apple Hill as she did every night. Over time the streets had changed from dirt, to cliché, to bricks, and now boasted the same asphalt every other town in America had. She had to admit she missed the bricks, it at least gave the town some atmosphere.
She sighed, it wasn’t as if the town didn’t have atmosphere. The residents did their best to keep their lawns trimmed and their trees healthy. Just about every house was decorated in fall or Halloween décor, giving the town a storybook feel. That was something Elise could appreciate, but the fact that they didn’t belong in her valley still coursed through her veins.
A large black spider crawled out of her pocket and perched on her shoulder.
“Well Roark,” she said, “it’s that time again.”
The spider lifted its front two legs as if to agree.
“Every forty years I bring chaos to this town and yet they stay,” she mused. “I wonder what more I could do this year to get them to move on?”
Roark turned in a circle frantically as if he had the perfect answer. She looked at the spider and smiled. “Roark, you know I can’t wrap them into a web and drain them dry. My coven may be gone, but I still hold their values sacred. I will not cause fatal harm to any mortal.”
The large spider rolled his eyes at her. They had been together a long time, the witch and her familiar, the large Goliath Birdeater. Of course they both knew that was just the form that he took to present himself. She had only seen her spirit protector once in his true form. He had protected her from a group of drunken miners that had been away from a woman’s touch so long, they lost their sense when they happened upon her.
There wasn’t much left of the three men by the time Roark got done with them, but she was eternally grateful that her familiar showed himself before they could complete their dastardly plan. Roark could kill for her, but only if her life was in danger. Which didn’t help when it came to driving out the people of Apple Hill from her home.
“Natural disasters are out of the question, too many variables for someone to get hurt,” she thought out loud.
Roark squeaked in her ear.
“No, I will not mess with a love potion again,” stated Elise. “They just about killed each other trying to prove their love was better than another’s. I’ve tried haunting them out, but they just embraced the fact that the valley was haunted.”
She thought of the small shrine they built at the town’s center, near a natural spring. They planted flowers for the valley witch, so that they could be in her good graces. She smiled. The first thing she would do is to kill the flowers.
She wouldn’t really kill the mums, she’d take the real plants to her home and care for them, and replace them with magical fakes. That should show the townspeople that the witch is unhappy.
Making her way to the top of Apple Hill, where her house stood, she turned and faced the town below. She closed her eyes and rolled her wrists to where her palms were face up, then she began chanting.