The Witch

by Mary Ann Mitchell

  “Look, look. I bet that’s our little town over there,” Mrs. Rosen shouted out. “It was fun visiting Austin, but I’m so happy to be going home.”

  “Do you ever see Momma?” Stephen asked.

  “No. The house has new owners, and they’re taking good care of the place.”

  “Maybe I should have left you with your father.”

  “No, Aunt Rosemary. I want to see my friends again. Besides, I can help you with Robin.”

  “More like I’ll be helping Mom take care of you, Stephen.” Robin made a face at her cousin and stuck out her tongue.

  “Instead I think I’m going to be breaking up all sorts of rumbles between you two.”

  The plane dropped through an air pocket and Rosemary had to grab the air sickness bag for Stephen.

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  Aunt Rosemary took a wrong turn one day in the car and drove by Stephen’s old house. He got to see the new owners with their twin Labrador retrievers running around the front lawn, chasing a sprinkler that went round in a circle.

  The house was painted, but otherwise it looked the same. He stretched to see the side basement window that had been broken, but it was impossible to see it from the road. He imagined it had been repaired probably before the house was sold.

  Twilight hovered over the house, and he thought he saw a familiar sad face weeping in a window. He hoped he had imagined it.

  Cathy roamed from room to room in the house. She couldn’t quiet herself. The old people who had bought the home had few visitors. No children ever crossed the threshold.

  The man’s sallow face was engraved by years working under the sun. His wife dyed her hair a bright orange she called red. Once in a while the grown children visited. Cathy paid no attention to them, couldn’t even recall what they looked like until …

  A baby came into the house, wrapped in a pink blanket in her mother’s arms. A grandchild.

  “Very young,” the old woman said, grasping her staff tightly.

  Ah, yes, Stephen had missed one of the uglies, and she kept Cathy company each night in the basement.

  The baby’s eyes were blue; or had they not changed color yet? wondered Cathy, hovering above the carriage.

  “Charming,” the old woman declared.

  “And so vulnerable.” Cathy smiled down at the babe.

  “Can she see you?” the old woman asked.

  “I’m sure she can. She hasn’t forgotten where she came from yet. She still remembers the prior world.”

  “To which you belong,” reminded the old woman.

  “I’ll never meet God again. I now belong to hell like you.”

  Cathy touched the blanket and gently let her icy fingers travel over the baby’s fisted hand.

  But always the baby left. Her parents visited but once a week and never did they stay overnight.

  “How will you win the young thing over?” the old woman asked.

  “Slowly. Patiently,” answered Cathy.

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  “Grannie Smith’s here with her apple pies.”

  “Good Lord, Mrs. Rosen, we’re going to look like blimps if you keep this up.”

  “Rosemary, if someone invites me to dinner then they have to suffer through my desserts.”

  “I like your desserts, Grannie Smith. Who suffers?” Stephen looked around the hallway and saw no hands being raised. “Besides, we need something home-cooked, ‘cause Aunt Rosemary had the dinner delivered.”

  “I just didn’t want to poison anyone.”

  The small group gathered in the dining room with the table already set for four. As the man of the house, Stephen sat at the head of the table. Robin sat to his right, and the two women fought over who should be closer to the kitchen.

  “Robin, why do adults want to be able to run to the kitchen during the meal?”

  “I think it has something to do with politeness, Stephen.”

  The children gobbled down their food quickly in order to rush on to the dessert, but the adults languidly finished their meal, taking long pauses to exchange conversation and laugh.

  “You should see the grandchild the neighbors have. She is beautiful. A tiny bit of fuzzy hair and the itsy-bitsy fingers. I forgot how miraculous small babies look.”

  “What baby?” asked Stephen.

  “Oh, the people who bought your house have just become grandparents for the first time. Suddenly they’re talking to everyone. I think it’s because they want to show off their granddaughter.”

  “The baby doesn’t live there?”

  “No, Stephen, although I think the grandparents would like to kidnap her.”

  “That’s not nice.”

  “Stephen, Mrs. Rosen didn’t mean they would really kidnap her. They would like to see more of her, but they aren’t going to rob their own children of the joy of having a child.” Rosemary reached over and took hold of Stephen’s hand. It was cold. “Hey, it’s pie time.”

  The adults removed the dinner plates and promised to return with apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

  “What if Momma’s still in the house?”

  Robin turned to Stephen and held her breath for several moments before speaking.

  “She went to heaven.”

  “You don’t know that. I thought I saw her face when your mom drove by my old house. I didn’t say anything ‘cause I thought I imagined it.”

  “Probably you did. She can’t hurt the new owners.”

  “What about the baby? “

  “The baby isn’t you. She wanted to be one with you.”

  “She wanted to live again, Robin. She didn’t want to go to hell forever.”

  “Stop, Stephen. You’re out of the house and as long as you don’t go back you’re safe.”

  “But I brought her back and now she has a baby to attack. The baby won’t know what’s happening to it. I gotta go back and make sure Momma’s gone.”

  “No one will take you back to that place.”

  “What if I visit Grannie Smith?”

  “The last time Grannie Smith trusted you, you almost lost your soul.”

  “But Momma can’t rob a baby of its life.”

  “How do you know she will?”

  “I remember her holding on to me. My insides felt all mushy and I started to black out. You saw me when your mom took me out of the basement.”

  “And I never want to see you like that again.”

  “Why are you kids looking so grim?” asked Rosemary.

  The children didn’t answer.

  “Don’t tell me you two had some sort of fight.”

  “We never fight, Momma. Only …” Robin kept from looking at Stephen but sensed his eyes glaring at her.

  “Only, Stephen’s scared for the baby,” Robin blurted out before Stephen could cover her mouth with his hand.

  “Sit down, Stephen.” Rosemary passed out the apple pie with Mrs. Rosen’s help. “What baby are we talking about?” Rosemary grabbed hold of her fork and made a deep stab into the pie.

  “The grandbaby Grannie Smith was talking about. Stephen’s afraid his mother still haunts his old house.” Robin looked over at Stephen with downcast eyes.

  “The house doesn’t belong to you anymore, Stephen, so what goes on inside the house is none of your business,” said Rosemary.

  “But I brought Momma back. I never got to banish her.”

  “Banish? Such a fancy word for a little boy,” Grannie Smith said. “Where did you learn the word? Do you know what it means?”

  “It means sending a spirit away from earth so’s it can’t hurt anyone. Momma taught me a little about it.”

  “She did?”

  “Stephen, your ice cream is melting. We can talk about this later on. Mrs. Rosen wouldn’t be interested.”

  “I am. What I didn’t know is that Cathy actually was teaching witchcraft to Stephen.”

  “He watched her a lot, that’s all.”

  “No. She had me help her,” Ste
phen clarified. “And I helped make the stupid uglies who hurt so many people. I’ll never forget that.”

  “Dr. Fisk told you it wasn’t your fault because you had no idea what your mother’s plan was.”

  “But, Aunt Rosemary, I’m the only one who can make Momma go away.”

  “How?”

  Stephen shrugged.

  “Since I brought Momma back I should be able to send her away.”

  Mrs. Rosen looked at Rosemary.

  “Do you think that poor, dear baby is at risk?”

  “You said they only visit, never stay. Besides, I’m sure they don’t go down in the basement.”

  “Momma isn’t limited to the basement.”

  “But you destroyed the demons. She has no one to help her.”

  “She doesn’t need help to take over the baby’s body. She only needed the uglies for her revenge.”

  “He says he thought he saw someone crying in the window when we went past the other day,” said Robin.

  “That could have been a real person.”

  “No. The people were outside with the dogs.”

  “They could have had a visitor. I’m sorry, Mrs. Rosen. I didn’t mean for this evening to be so grim.”

  “I brought the topic up, Rosemary, and to tell you the truth, I might keep a watch on the place.”

  “I can help, Grannie Smith. We can take turns watching.”

  “Stephen, Mrs. Rosen can take care of her end.”

  “No, she can’t ‘cause she can’t see Momma. I can. You have to let me stay with Grannie Smith to watch the house.” Stephen felt a slap on his right knee. Robin reminded him that he might be going too far. He leaned back in his chair and watched the ice cream melt while the others ate.

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  “Why did you tell your mother what I said?”

  Robin flipped through the television channels. Nothing appealed to her.

  “Why?” Stephen repeated. “Because I didn’t want you to get yourself in trouble.”

  “So you did it for me?”

  “No, Stephen.” She dropped the remote control to the floor. “You wanted to go to the house. No one will take you there. And how do you know the people who live in your old house want you around? Are you going to sneak in like a burglar?”

  “I’ll tell them I used to live there and I want to look around.”

  “Why should they let you?”

  “Grannie Smith could get me in.”

  “She didn’t jump at the chance to invite you over.”

  “That’s okay. I can talk her into letting me stay. She likes me.”

  “Yes, and she doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “They won’t know whether Momma is going after the baby’s body.”

  “How will you know?”

  “It feels awful. The baby would be miserable. Probably cry a lot and not be able to sleep.”

  “You can’t do this by yourself, Stephen. If my momma hadn’t shown up you wouldn’t be you. You’d be your mother.”

  Stephen’s face turned perplexed.

  “Where would I be right now, Robin?”

  “You’re the witch. Where do people go when their bodies are stolen?”

  Stephen had no answer but he worried about the excited feel he got hearing Robin say that he was a witch. Could his mother have passed on her powers to him? He had enjoyed participating in the basement rituals with his mother. He felt guilty.

  “What’s the matter?” Robin asked.

  “Do you believe that I’m a witch?”

  “Maybe you have no magic power. Maybe your mother’s magic brought the uglies to life. If they depended on you they may have remained lumps of clay.”

  “But I brought the wolf to life.”

  “Your mother was present for that also.”

  “But she couldn’t touch this world. That’s why she needed the uglies and she needed me. But I do know she can invade a body.”

  “Maybe because you’re her son you’re more susceptible. She might not be able to take over the baby’s body, since they’re not related.”

  Stephen thought about this while Robin went back to watching the television.

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  Since the box had been destroyed the little old woman with the staff had nowhere safe to go during the day. She hid herself behind cardboard boxes infested with bugs and under the dirty laundry that seemed to sit in the basement for weeks.

  When Stephen began destroying the other demons she had wisely slipped off the table and onto the hard, cement floor. The landing had been painful, and she had flattened both her feet but had escaped the harsh lick of the fire.

  At first she thought about escaping into the outside world. The pane of glass was still missing from the window over the furnace. The wall leading up to the window had tiny grooves and with the aid of her staff she might have been able to climb the wall. Instead she had decided to wait. When the meddling sister rushed the boy out of the house the mother had gone mad. So mad that the little old woman thought she might be able to rule her creator.

  The old woman waited many days before revealing herself to the witch, and she only did when she felt the spirit of the witch fading.

  “Mother, why do you mourn?” the old woman asked.

  The witch immediately spotted the old woman.

  “You exist. And the others?”

  “Into the fire.”

  “Stephen missed seeing you?”

  “He was much too busy in his righteous snit to count heads. But, again I ask, why do you mourn?”

  “My son is gone.”

  “There are many other children in the world.”

  “Children?”

  “Yes. If you were …” The witch hesitated. She wanted to say “more accomplished,” but thought she should choose her words more wisely than that. “If you were weak and had no power then I could understand. But why fade away when you can renew your quest with another child?”

  “Can I?”

  “Of course. The younger the child the easier it is. The fewer the memories, the easier to squelch the resident personality.”

  “But the house is empty.”

  “Not forever. There is room in this house for many children. Do you think some old maid is going to want the task of caring for a house this size?”

  “Will you help me?”

  “That is why you called me into this world.” The old woman staggered out from behind the furnace and didn’t stop until she stood on the center of the basement floor. “I’ve been waiting here for you to notice me, and while waiting I’ve met numerous cohorts who knew me in another existence.” The witch tapped the floor three times with her staff. A second later a crow flew in through the broken window.

  “This is Asmodeus. An old lover. He appears here not in his usual form, but with his three heads, feet of a cock and wings it would be difficult for him not to attract attention. He has volunteered to watch over us. To be our spy.”

  “We don’t need a spy. We need to bring my son back.”

  “That may be impossible, my dear. We must not obsess over the past. Asmodeus and I can certainly vouch for that. If we wallowed in our histories, we’d never accomplish anything with our futures. However, if the boy should still be near, Asmodeus will find him.”

  “Will he recognize my son?”

  “Yes, by the scent of his flesh and by the pain in the boy’s heart. I’m sure he cries nights over losing you, Mother. That pain will give him away.”

  “But how will Asmodeus bring Stephen back to this house?”

  “First let Asmodeus look for him. But always remember there are others who can take your son’s place.”

  “I want my boy with me forever.”

  Time, however, changed the mother’s longing, and the infant girl soon became the prime target.

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  Mrs. Rosen peeked out her living room window when she heard a truck stop i
n front of her door. The driver had a delivery for the neighbors, but he couldn’t park any nearer their door because of an overhanging tree. The side panel advertised BABY WORLD in big letters. Curious, she decided to just happen to step outside to check for her mail.

  At her mailbox Mrs. Rosen saw the neighbors signing a sheet of paper on a clipboard. She waved when they noticed her. Waving back, the couple glowed.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Rosen.

  The delivery men returned to the truck and pulled out a big box.

  “A gift for your granddaughter?” asked Mrs. Rosen.

  “Much more exciting than that,” said Mrs. Crowther, the neighbor. “We’ll be having our granddaughter staying with us for several months. The kids have to go off to South Africa for their jobs and didn’t want to chance taking the baby along. They themselves have to get all sorts of shots.”

  “How delightful for you.”

  The delivery men passed by, carrying a box that obviously contained a crib.

  “When does the baby move in?” Mrs. Rosen asked.

  “Soon. We’re getting ready in advance. The small room on the way to the kitchen has been done up as a nursery.”

  “You mean the one near the basement? “

  “Near the basement door. Yes.” Mrs. Crowther let her husband guide the delivery into the house and she approached Mrs. Rosen. “The kids think we’re overdoing it, but I haven’t had a baby in the house since … Never mind, I don’t think I want to admit to how long it’s been.”

  “Are you enjoying the house?”

  “Yes, very much. We have lots of room for my husband’s library, and we can keep the dogs downstairs away from our bedroom. Although once in a while Ginger whines in front of the gate we have barring the stairs. We figure she misses being pampered. She used to sleep every night at the foot of our bed. Spike doesn’t seem to care.”

  “Any problem with the heating?”

  “We got a brand new furnace. Why would we have problems with the heat?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t too warm.”

  “Too warm?” Mrs. Crowther waited for an answer.