The Mysterious Visitor (and other short stories)

The Three Witches (C)

"Twizzle! Spite! Get over here! Look!"

"What is it now Grindle?" Twizzle rolled her eyes, or rather, her eye. One eye had been missing for some time, leaving only an empty socket. She blamed Spite, whom she was certain stole it and used it in her cauldron, but she had no proof of that.

"It's a child!" The excitement was evident in Grindle's voice.

"A child?" Spite shoved her out of the way so she could peer through the dirty window. "Oh my wand, it is!" She grabbed her book of spells off the table and began flipping through it eagerly. "Ooooh! I've always wanted to try the teleport potion! It calls for a child's thumb but I never had one!"

"A child's thumb? Are you silly?" Twizzle snapped, yanking the book away. "You can do way cooler things with a child than make a stupid teleport potion."

"Ladies, ladies, kindly shut up or we won't have a child at all!" Grindle hissed. "I'm going to go offer the kid candy and lure him in here. Don't scare him off with your foolish banter!"

Twizzle and Spite glanced at each other and nodded. The look said that they would continue this discussion later. Grindle pulled her hood up over her twisted face and stepped outside.

"Hello little boy. Are you lost?" She crooned gently.

The little boy, who had spotted the witch's cabin and was walking toward it, paused and glared at her for a moment. He looked to be no older than 5 or 6. His hair tumbled in tangled locks down to his waist and although he was covered in mud, his clothes were tidy, as though he had been very careful not to mess them up.

"I'm not a boy. I'm a GIRL!" The child exclaimed, clearly ofronted. Her voice, as she spoke the last word, caused Grindle to jump.

"Oh dear, my apologies." Grindle stammered, flustered. "We don't get a lot of chil- ah, visitors this deep in the forest, you see. Would you, um, like some candy?"

The girl's face lit up, the faux pas quickly forgotten. "Yes please!" She stepped forward eagerly.

"Ah. Good. Uh, right this way." Grindle motioned toward the door to their hut. The girl had barely made it through the doorway, when Twizzle grabbed her.

"I call dibs on her thumbs!"

"Oh stuff it Twizzle! I saw her first!" Grindle snapped, slamming the door behind her. "Your stupid potion can wait."

Spite yanked the child away from Twizzle. "You old hags have no idea what you're dealing with. I can make enough youth and beauty potions to last us until the next millennium with a child this size! We are not wasting her on teleport potions."

"You don't even need her thumbs for that!" Twizzle screeched, trying to grab the girl back.

"Quit snatching! I saw her first!" Grindle joined in grabbing at the girl.

"Ow! You're hurting me! Stop!" The girl struggled but to no avail. "Stop it! PLEASE STOP!"

All three witches jerked back as though they had been stung.

"You guys are mean! I'm telling my mommy on you when I find her!"

Spite, the first to recover from her shock, smiled and began to cackle. "Oh sweet summer child, you won't be finding your mommy. You belong to us now."

"Oh yes." Twizzle grinned, revealing broken, yellow teeth. "We are going to cut you up and put your pieces in our cauldron to make magic spells."

"I'm sorry for fighting with you, my dear sisters. There is plenty of her to share." Grindle slid her spindly fingers over the child's face.

The girl's eyes widened. "No! Please let me go! I want to go home! I want my mommy! Mommyyyyyyyyy!" The little girl burst into tears.

"Oww! What is this stuff?" Grindle yanked her hand away from the girl's face, which was quickly becoming wet with tears. The girl's cries began to grow louder and louder.

"Make it stop!" Twizzle clutched her ears.

The girl's cries continued, unabated. The hut began to fill with a blinding light, emanating from the girl herself.

"I've never seen anyone with this kind of power before!" Grindle screamed.

"We need to get out of here!" Spite was doubled over, clutching her own face, in no condition to run.

The light grew and grew until it enveloped the witches, the hut, and even the girl's sobs. Then with a soft pop, the light vanished, leaving a shaken little girl, sitting alone in the forest.

The girl sniffed and wiped her eyes. There was nothing left of the witches or the hut. The only sign that it wasn't all a dream was a dirty spell book, lying open on the ground. Curious, the small girl crawled over to it. She smiled at the colorful squiggles and tore out the page to keep. She was too young to read, even if she knew witches tongue, but had she been able to read it, she would have seen a recipe for how to make a potion of youth, with words written in bold block text along the bottom: "WARNING: when gathering a child for this spell, AVOID polite little girls. They are DANGEROUS."

THE END