The Witch House

Three witches live in The Witch House, two old and one young. It is always this way, has always been and presumably always will be. It is not known how this is so; if there is only one younger witch then where does the second witch come from when the older witches pass and the younger one takes their place? Maybe they are always the same witches, which seems implausible.

The Witch House at the end of Appleberry road has been inhabited by three women, three witches, as far back as the oldest residents of Milltown can recall. Small towns tend to have long memories, and this one remembers the long road where the trees began to twist the further you walk. Then you reach it, the house warn dull with age and surrounded by overgrowth of strange plants. Though it isn't large, the architecture seems to bend the mind, impossibly twisted and straight together. Local cats mill about the yard and laze on the porch. And there are three witches. Always three witches.

In all those years many questions have been asked about the house, though few have been answered. Plentiful rumors abound, small towns love tall tales. Perhaps crumbs of truth hide within, though by now it has become impossible to separate fact from local fiction.

Some say the house has stood since before the town was founded, witches drawing in the first settlers with charms. Others say the house came later, appearing overnight along with its occupants. Still another suggested the house itself was the source of the magic, existing long before and turning any unlucky occupants into witches themselves.

Regardless of origin, The Witch House stands unchanging beyond the seasonal norms through the ages.

* * *

Three witches live in The Witch House, two old and one young. It is always this way, has always been and presumably always will be... That is, until the day she came to town.

Tawny hair and deep bronze skin, she was the morning sun and the summer fields. The town embraced her right away, for she had a natural way with all people and creatures. They said she must be blessed, god-sent for her gentleness and generosity. She won trust and hearts, but there was one heart she had not yet met.

* * *

Three witches live in the witch house, two old and one young. It is always this way, has always been and presumably always will be. Until the day the young witch went to town and met a woman made of the morning sun and summer fields.

When she saw the sunny woman her mouth went dry and hands started to sweat. The young witch had never felt such things before, and did not know what it was. Worried of the strange affliction, she consulted her mentors, concerned of curses or baleful magic.

"Smitten," they both told her, but she did not believe them. She could not be smitten, for the townsfolk had never been of interest to her before. Surely it was an affliction, and she could be cured by spending several weeks away from town, attending to her studies.

In that time her mind wandered, imagining the morning sun and summer fields. After the first week she slipped into daydream while conjuring, creating a mess of great proportion. The older witches gave her a scolding, inquiring what had caused this incredible lapse. When she admitted her desires they insisted she was to stop hiding and go to town. They wouldn't have her creating magical chaos over a wandering mind.

The day was warm and sunflowers were in season. The young witch had never been courted before and certainly never done any courting of her own. She cut a bouquet of sunflowers and tied it with twine and prepared a whole speech in her mind as she walked. But when she saw the morning sun her words failed. Her mouth went dry and palms began to sweat. Time had not cured her.

In silence the young witch held the bouquet out, offering it to the summer fields. The smile she received was radiant as the sun. It melted ice in her heart that she hadn't known was there.

Unable to speak herself, this golden goddess spoke first, "Sunflowers are lovely, and I am grateful. Would you do me the honor of your company, that I may enjoy two lovely things this day?"

Smitten. Perhaps she was, and so was the summer herself. The young witch and radiant woman drew close as the seasons changed. The sun's heat left the earth, inviting in the chill of approaching winter. Yet the now melted heart never froze again, constantly warmed by the morning sun.

* * *

Four witches live in The Witch House, two old and two young. It is always this way, hasn't always been, but presumably always will be.

END.

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Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. I read and appreciate all feedback, so leave a comment if you have a moment. And if you like the story please hit the "vote" button to help others see it. Thanks again! 🖤