I awoke to the sound of hammering. Rubbing my eyes, I got up and strolled lazily to my bedroom window. There, in the center of the street, a large wooden post was being erected.
“Huh, odd.” I thought to myself.
Having recently left my husband, I had decided to move to the quaint New England town only a few months prior for a fresh new start. I was able to secure a luxurious, upper level apartment for a ridiculously low price that allowed me a full view of the small, rural town below.
A group of locals began to gather at the wooden post. A woman, catching my glance, waved a friendly smile to me. I gave a half-hearted wave back and crawled back into bed, not interested enough to stay awake.
I opened my eyes some time later to mob-like shouting. Irritated at the commotion, I got up and once again pressed my face to the window. A large, bushy pile of wood and timbers now rested on the ground next to the stake. People began pointing and shouting at a small home across the street from me. Now curious, I closed my blinds and squatted down on the floor so I could peer through the crack without being spotted by the crowd.
The rage induced mob pounded on the house’s front door. When no one answered, they angrily began beating and kicking on the wood, leaving massive indentations. Finally, after a great struggle, they managed to pull the door down. Dozens of people entered through the small door frame, the darkening overcast sky now threatening to pour down buckets of rain.
After several minutes, I saw the crowd begin to disperse, making way for something. Then I saw it… a man, pulling a young, petite woman out of the house by her hair. His muscles bulged from the effort as she kicked and, futilely, resisted his manipulation.
The rain began to come down, turning the once well maintained road into a sloshing mud pit. I could hear the woman’s screams, pleading for help.
“Please someone! Help me! Please!” She kicked and bucked, her shoes sliding in the mud as she tried to unsuccessfully find her footing. I pondered going down to intervene but considering I was smaller then her, it would have been a fruitless effort.
I suddenly felt extremely unsafe, even in my own bedroom. I swallowed the lump in my throat and watched with morbid curiosity as they stood the hysterical, mud-drenched woman up and began tying her to the wooden stake.
“Let go of me! HELP!” A guttural scream from the woman.
“Burn the witch!” A burly looking man shouted back.
“Yeah, burn her!” Another agreed.
“Kill her! She’s eaten my daughter!” A mother exclaimed.
“No! P…P… P…Please!” The woman, now completely restrained, begged in sob-broken cries. I watched in increasing horror as a member of the ever growing, riled up crowd dumped a bucket of sticky, used motor oil over the woman’s head, covering her in black, tarry sludge. The woman gagged and then projectile vomited as the grease entered her mouth and coated her eyes in thick, impermeable layers.
Out of the blue, I began feeling breathy whispers in my ears. I jumped, expecting someone to be there.
No one.
My bedroom was empty. I scrambled back to the window and looked out the crack in the curtains. The woman was desperately kicking, arching her back, trying anything to loosen the ropes that bound her. I had the sinking feeling that I was about to witness something unspeakable.
Bracing myself, I saw the same burly man, now drenched in rain droplets, pull a lighter out of his pocket.
“Burn the witch!”
“Kill her!”
“Cremate her! Turn her to ash!”
“BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!” The crowd chanted in unison. The condemned woman began sobbing hysterically, her begs now morphing into one long, inconsolable, blubbering vocalization. The man holding the lighter shook his head and dropped the lighter into the pile of bushy timbers.
The woman, no doubt smelling the burning material, began struggling in powerful bucks. Her desperation reached a fever pitch as she blinked, cleared the oil from her widening eyes, and saw, to her utmost terror, the flames approaching.
Due to the rain, the flames moved at a snail’s pace, prolonging her mental anguish and intensifying her howls. Her diaphragm began to shake uncontrollably as the flames spread to within a foot of her legs. She recoiled away from the heat as the blaze grew in intensity; the ropes, however, kept her in position.
The crowd eerily locked hands around the burning stake, forming an impenetrable circle around the woman. They all observed with solemn expressions, as if they took no pleasure from the barbaric act. The sun, now beginning to set, gave the fire a brighter, more intense yellow glow as the sky transformed from gray to violet.
A speck of orange caught the cuff of the women’s pants.
“Ahh!” She shouted as she kicked and shook her bound legs, frantically trying to put out the spark. It was to no use, as the flame began spreading up her calves, the flammable motor oil acting as a wick.
I realized at that moment, the woman’s screams morphed from fear to pain. Prior, they had been scared, pleading, panicked. Now, as her flesh started to blister and burn, they became agonized, horrific wails that reverberated and traveled into the nighttime sky. My chest began to constrict from shocked, disgusted revulsion as the raging inferno began consuming her torso.
“AHHHHHHHHHH! GOD HELP ME! AHHHHHHHHHHH!” Her screams became inhuman, primal shrieks that forced me to stick my fingers in my ears. Tears began streaming down my face as the blisters on her flesh began to burst, revealing crusted over black lesions. I watched in horror as the fireball crested over her face and hair, her screams now unbearable to listen to.
I shut my blinds and vomited in my toilet, the waves of bile only becoming more intense as the harrowing images played in my mind over and over. That, coupled with the faint sounds of woman’s continued excruciating misery, caused my stomach to empty itself in more rib cracking convulsions.
Finally, after several minutes of sitting next to my toilet, sweating, panting, and mentally distressed, the sounds outside ceased. Building up the courage to look at the hellish aftermath, I crawled back over to the window. There, still smoldering in the middle of the street, stood the motionless woman, head down, her entire body a charcoal, scorched black.
Clear streams of smoke trickled off her body and up into the sky. I covered my mouth with my hand as the crowd, acting as if nothing had happened, let go of each other’s hands and promptly retreated back into their respective homes. I just stared, my mind unable to cope, my body numb. My hands trembled, the emotional trauma cresting over me like a tsunami.
Then, suddenly, something caught my eye. The woman’s body twitched, almost imperceptibly. Then again, this time more pronounced. I gasped in stunned disbelief as the woman raised her head.
Oh my god…
She was alive!
But how?!
The woman looked around, her eyes darting upwards. My heart skipped a beat as I continued to stare out my window. I noticed her pupils, which were once a normal, white color, were now a rich, deep green, the eyes radiating a desire for vengeance.
She blinked and stared up at me. She saw me. The emerald eyes locked onto mine. Her mouth broke out into a wide, toothy grin, as if revealing her true intentions to me, and only me.
“HE HE HE HE HE HE!” A deep, guttural cackle filled the air as I shut my window. My chest constricted as the whispers from earlier came back, stronger than the first time.
“Kill kill kill kill kill…”
I lurched backwards to the middle of the dark room.
“I see you, you blonde bitch! In your window!”
I shook my head, the whispers getting louder.
I glanced back out the window pane, staring at the now blackened wooden post. The woman was gone…
“You’re going to die!” More voices, these ones louder and more intense than before.
“No! Stop!” My voice quivered as I spoke.
“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE, KATIE!” A demonic voice from behind me shook my skull. I slowly turned my head, and saw, to my abject dread, the burned witch sprawled out, laying on my bed with an evil, toothy grin that beckoned and invited me to my death.
She knew my name.
“Whu… what?” Is all I managed to dredge up as she reached out a long, crusty hand and planted it on my head. I screamed and jerked away, scrambling on my floor, desperate to escape the witch.
“You’ll make a tasty meal!” She growled, “HE HE HE!” More wicked cackles burst through the air as I stumbled out into the hall. I turned, anticipating the witch before me.
Yet she was gone.
“Kill kill kill…” The voices resumed in my head.
Horrified, I spun my head, searching for her as I continued to run. I reached the complex stairs and began to descend them.I took one step and stopped cold.
There, the witch.
Her body was magically healed, restored to its pre-burnt luster. She sat cross-legged on one of the middle steps, a large spell book resting in her lap.
“Ohh, let’s see!” She exclaimed in a childish voice, “How should I kill Katie today? I could have her covered in spiders when she sleeps, no that’s much too cliché.” She giggled and then snapped her fingers.
“Ohh, maybe I should burn her, do you think she’d like that? No… oh yeah, that’s right, I’m gonna eat her! Let’s fatten her up!” Suddenly, she glanced up at me, my hands trembling on the railing. She grinned devilishly and began to chant…
”Flesh and bone, grow and swell
Even if she’ll scream or yell
Make her larger and unwell
Her fears will never quell
Trapped in her bodies massive cell
So fatten up, fatten up, fatten up well!”
I gasped in shock as her spell book began to glow a deep, rich purple hue. The pages turned by themselves, as if a wind had caught them. I felt my skin start to expand, the seams of my clothing stretching and bulging. Panicked, I stumbled down the stairs, past the smiling witch, and onto the floor.
“Let’s play!” Her face became demonic, her eyes glowing a hateful, deep red. I screamed, flailing my arms wildly as my ever expanding body squooze through the door frame and into the chilly night time air.
An evil, demented howl emanated from behind me. I glanced backwards, and saw the witch spider-walking on all fours, her mouth foaming.
“Help me!” I screamed. Windows in houses illuminated brightly, my disturbance awakening the townspeople.
“It’s the witch! It’s the witch!”
“I’m starving, Katie! I’ll sink my gluttonous teeth into your flesh!” People began exiting their homes, many with guns and pitchforks, ready to fight. My rapidly expanding waistline ensured my running became much more labored. My legs became too large; I clumsily slipped and slammed face first into the mud. I felt the witch crawl over my massive back, her bony extremities sharp and jagged against my flesh. Her breath reeked of a foul, disgusting odor.
As more people exited their homes, the witch snarled at them, their eyes widening in the dreadful realization that they had made a fatal miscalculation. Suddenly, the buildings burst into flames simultaneously, as if the entire street had been subjected to a well placed napalm strike.
“I’ll finish you last!” She snarled down at me.
The heat radiated off the buildings as the witch jumped off me, beginning to mutilate and gut the people who had so barbarously burned her alive. Red streaks of crimson and pained screams filled the air as the witch clawed and bit through the bodies, men, women, children. A few fired their guns at her, but to no avail as her cackles only grew in intensity.
The further away the witch got, the more my imprisoned body lost the hundreds of pounds of fleshy layers she had cursed me with. When I was physically able, I stood and began to run, the town on either side of me now a raging, red inferno of death. As I continued my sprint, my body shed the last remaining pounds as I returned to my natural weight.
Looking back, much of the small town was reduced to barren, smoldering ash. I felt my waistline expanding as I heard a distant cackle. I ran until my body retracted back. I stumbled onto the local interstate, where a police officer picked me up.
“What happened to you ma’am?” The bearded, fit cop asked. Rain pellets battered the windows in slimey sheets.
“I… was… attacked by a dog.” I sniffled.
“A dog?” He seemed skeptical.
“I was out walking, just enjoying my night when this dog jumped the fence and started attacking me.” I couldn’t tell him the truth, it would’ve seemed much too outlandish.
“Odd, you smell like a campfire. Are you out camping or doing something illegal, miss? Meth cooking perhaps?
“No!”
“What town are you from?” He asked. I drew a blank. I couldn’t remember.
“I uh, I’m not quite sure.”
“You live around these parts?”
After the short car ride, I was booked at the central police station, and when they subsequently found the town burnt to the ground, I was under immense scrutiny by investigators and detectives who were convinced I was in on the arson and murders. They couldn’t prove it beyond suspicion of course.
I, eventually, in my criminal interviews, came clean about the witch. I cried, sobbed, and begged them to believe me.
They didn’t.
Why would they? I was a “crazy girl” and was “a threat to others and myself.” My delusions were “excessively violent.”
“Tell me, Katie…” An older man in a suit asked, “How does this lighter make you feel?”
Flick
“Nooooo! Get that away from me!” I screamed and wretched away, the anxiety flooding back.
“Are you the witch, Katie? Is that why you’re afraid of fire?” Another one of the doctors asked me.
“WHAT?! FUCK NO! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?! SHE’S COMING TO KILL ME!” I attacked the doctors. I scratched and bit, they swarmed me and sedated me by shoving a needle in my veins.
Needless to say, I was locked up. One day, the nurse came by with something folded in her arms.
A straight jacket. They forcefully shoved me into it, rendering me immobile.
“Kill kill kill…” The voices from the witch. They returned, and I couldn’t even act on them.
This went on for years.
YEARS.
The amount of tests, therapy sessions, getting tied to a medical bed, THE VOICES!
I was locked away in that mental hospital, under 24/7 surveillance. It took five years of good behavior, convincing them, and myself to a certain degree, that what happened that night was fake, or just in my head.
I told them the witch wasn’t real! I mean, I saw her, but I was just hallucinating the whole thing!
Right?
When I was finally released, right before Covid actually, I started my life anew with a clean bill of health.
One thing still bothers me though.
I’ve always been wary of putting on any extra weight. For me, though, I never know if it’s just the desert from dinner, or that demented, wrinkled witch coming to finish what she promised me that night.
I have a feeling we will meet again.
And that… that terrifies me.
