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Rings and Fings: Episode 14 - The Witch

Updated on October 18, 2012

The Witch

The storm had been bashing Farmer Spike along his entire journey. Now that he had reached his destination it seemed to intensify. Lightning exploded in the thick forest around him.

The tiny cottage was surrounded by a natural fence, branches logs and twigs had formed into a circular barrier. The gate which was hard to discern from the rest of the fence, was marked by a carved wooden crescent moon which had been painted blue.

The farmer had been here before and knew how to let himself in. He opened the unlocked gate. “Some security system,” he thought to himself. Although, of course, he knew that she knew he was here and if she didn’t want visitors, than he would know about it.

The gate closed on its own accord behind him. He walked along a short path surrounded by a very busy and strange garden.

“How many things were growing here?” Most of them he could identify, but the rest, well he didn’t even want to know what they were, or where they came from.

He rushed to the green front door, which was flanked by two circular windows. He didn't bother to knock, he turned the boney doorknob, pushed open the door and bulled in, and then stood still dripping. The elements of the storm left his senses immediately, it was extremely warm, and somehow even the roaring wind and smashing rain could not be heard.

This was simply a one room affair. It was smoky but it didn’t smell like smoke. The room had a sweet smell that was intoxicating. A couple of ancient lamps that emitted a bright but yellow light hung from the low ceiling. There were no doors or rooms or partitions not even a screen or sheet to secrete areas. “no bed, no bog, how does she live here?” he thought to himself.

As usual things were bubbling and boiling away on the relatively large fireplace which dominated the small room at the back wall. The bricked enclosure of the fireplace jutted out into the room. Jars and boxes full of things, some moving, were everywhere sitting on top and below haphazard shelves and cupboards, and hanging from the ceiling. Very efficient in a tight space.

The tall farmer had to avoid banging his head on anything in here, who knows what he would spill, or unleash.


“Where is she?”

“I’m here.” The sultry silky smooth voice didn’t stop the tough farmer from jumping out of his very wet socks.

He turned to see the Witch leaning against the green front door.

She couldn’t have just come in. She was as dry as bones. She stood there in her tight fitting jeans and purple t-shirt. She was holding her long haired white cat close to her ample chest.

The woman, who looked to be in her late twenties, was easily as tall as him, with thick black hair which curled like lazy waves. Her white complexion bought forth her glowing green emerald eyes and ruby red lips. Lips that were now smiling as she rubbed the cats head who stared at him with pale blue eyes. And those crazy swirling tattoos on her arms that seemed alive and morphic, they scared him the most.

He remembered the first time he had met her and had remarked that she didn’t look much like a witch at all, and he had paid a price which had resulted in him promising himself never to mention it again.

“Witches can look any way they want,” he surmised.


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