It was last winter when I met the witch. I have always been a spiritual person, a believer in crystals, and tarot. I believed that everyone has a soul, and a purpose and that mother nature looks out for each and every one of us. It was some time in the afternoon when I saw the building, a small shack, with the words “Divination” written across the front. It was one I hadn’t seen before, and it seemed to be calling out to me. It was calling out to me.
I entered the building, and there was a woman sitting at a table with a crystal ball, such a classic scene. She had long flowing brown hair, she looked no older than thirty, but she had eyes that carried years with them, perhaps ages. There was a serenity about her disposition that made me inclined to trust every word she would have to say. I sat down across from her so that our session could begin. She stared into my eyes in a way that burrowed to the very core of my being.
“I am afraid that I can not charge you for a session today”
“I have plenty of money, and your place called to me, I must have your guidance”
“I know this place called to you which is why I can not bear to charge you, I must warn you of an impending danger”
I was shocked, but I believed her “What danger?”
“Tonight there will be a great storm, snow will cover your home. A beautiful young woman will come knocking on your door begging to be let in. Whatever she says, do not let her in”
“And why shouldn’t I let her in?”
“Because there is a witch, and that witch will do everything that she can to take your soul”
I left her tiny storefront feeling ill at ease, although thankful that I had a plan of action, and a way to avoid a terrible fate. When I was at home that evening, the things the woman said began to come true. Snow fell, and there was a terrible howling wind, it was a storm so heavy that I wouldn’t dare even venture to a neighbor’s home. I sat on my couch with a blanket, and a mug of cocoa, hoping the woman foretold to come to my door would leave me alone. I did not want to speak to a witch intent on stealing my soul.
But sure enough, as the woman said, it was late in the evening when I finally heard the knocking. A desperate pounding on the door that I surely would have answered if it wasn’t for the warnings I had been given. I came to the entrance and looked out the window, and there was a woman standing little more than five feet, a fragile thing, I thought it a terrible wretched trick, to prey on the kindness of others.
“Please, let me in, I’m freezing”
“I will not let you in, witch” I shouted back.
“I’m, I’m not a witch, please, help me, I’m going to die out here”
The wind howled, and the tiny young woman outside pounded on the door and pleaded to be let in. I ran from the door, and to the couch where I was with my cocoa, I did not need to listen. I would not give in.
I could still hear the banging, and the howling wind seemed to carry the woman’s sobbing through the walls of my house, forcing me to listen to her awful pleas for help, and mercy.
“I’m so cold, please” the voice wailed.
I was terrified, and I wanted so desperately wanted to help, but I was resolute. The wise woman had warned me this would happen, and it was happening. I stayed strong. I made my way to bed, and eventually, the cries started to die down, a few more pathetic knocks, and then only the wind. I had stayed strong, and proud of myself for not giving into temptation, I had a restful night of sleep.
I saw the sun, and the clear sky, from the window, and came to the door to greet the new day. On the ground right next to my door in the melting sun was the woman who had begged to be let in, she was pale, and her body was stiff and rigid, huddled in the fetal position. There was a sadness about her, and I knew where it came from. A realization that she could not rely on my kindness or mercy, and was destined to die.
I felt a hollowness in myself, a despair that I had lost something more valuable than any person is meant to lose. There was a witch, I met her at her tiny storefront, and now she had taken my soul.