Story: The Witch Child of Castle Creek - Part 1

Near the small village of Castle Creek, up a hill and through a forest, were the ruined remains of a castle. The castle, dark and old, was built over a creek, with a small archway for the water to flow through. Long abandoned by those who built it, the center portion was the only part still covered by a roof, the rest long tumbled down. In this center section lived a woman, named Evelyn Arvon who was despised by much of the village. She claimed that the castle belonged to her, which no one could dispute. It was in these ruins eight years earlier where the events of this story begin.

When referring to Evelyn, it is not explanatory enough to just refer to her as a woman because there was so much more to her than her gender. She was evil. She was vile. In fact, there was not a single redeeming characteristic that was apparent in her words and actions. Her appearance, on the other hand, was another story. She was noticed by everyone who first saw her. She would turn heads of men and women, alike. She was above average height, but not too tall. She had enough fat on her body that she had curves in all the right places. She had the most perfect shade of auburn hair with just enough waviness that it could not be called straight or curly. Her eyes were as green as flawless emeralds with flecks of gold that shone in the sun. In short, she was gorgeous.

One other characteristic she possessed was the plain and simple fact that she was a dark witch. This was known very well by the people of Castle Creek. She made no effort to hide her practice of the black arts. She would frequently be seen buying entrails and blood at the local butcher shop. The light of a fire and the putrid smells of her cauldron were always present at the ruined castle.

Generally, Evelyn kept to herself. She only interacted with people out of requirement. Outside of shopping, her only interaction was chasing and cursing people who would trespass on her land. It was this habit that caused her untimely death and the events that followed.

A young boy had accepted the dare of his teenage brother’s friend. He agreed to sneak up and touch the wall of the ruins and, in exchange, he would receive five silver coins. It was a stupid thing to do. The boy’s brother said so, but the promise of five pieces of silver and the respect that he would earn from the older boys was too much to pass up.

No one had expected him to do it. They all figured that he would get scared and run away before he got within half a mile. Even though he was terrified, the boy walked up slowly and cautiously. The building looked dark and foreboding with the sun hanging low in the sky behind it, but he continued to walk. Finally, he stood within arm’s reach of the wall staring at it both surprised and relieved that he had completed his task. He reached his arm out and touched the wall. With a smile on his face that stretched ear to ear, he turned around and started walking confidently back to his brother and his brother’s friend. Before he had walked ten paces, Evelyn leaped from around the corner of the ruins carrying an axe. She ran, screaming curses as she went, and grabbed the young boy by the back of his shirt collar.

As she subdued the young boy, she turned her attention to the older boys who were frozen in shock. She screamed, “I’ll show you what I do to scum like you! You tainted my wall with your filthy hands!” She walked back towards the corner of the building dragging the boy behind her. As she passed around the corner of the building, the two older boys could see the elongated shadows on the ground. They saw her silhouette shove the boy to the ground as she raised the axe. As she did this, the young boy screamed. As the dark shadow of the axe started its decent, the two older boys looked in horror. They instinctively looked away at the last moment, only to hear the awful ‘Schunk’ sound as the blade sunk deep into a wooden chopping block.

In the silence that followed, the two older boys had only one thought in their heads. As they put that thought into action, they turned and ran at a full sprint back to the village. Both boys had no time to think. They were running on pure adrenaline. They reached the village and collapsed at the knees of the first person they encountered. They cried for several minutes. They were sobbing intensely. Occasionally, enough sound would escape their mouths, that passers by could tell there was something seriously wrong. As a crowd gathered, the boys regained some control over their emotions.

As they recounted their horrific experiences, the villagers grew more and more outraged. There was a general sense of urgency to act and seek retribution. People were saying things like, “We have to stop that monster!” and “Imagine what she’s doing to that poor boy’s body.”

In no time at all, a mob had formed. People armed themselves with all manor of blunt and bladed weapons. Some people we carrying torches now that the sun had set. It was a sinister looking crowd of people who were less human and more blood-thirsty animals.

It was eerie how quiet it was. The soft footfalls quieted the surrounding wildlife. No one spoke as they marched through the forest along the creek. The only sounds would footsteps and breathing. After walking for several miles, the crowd approached the castle.

It would seem like the witch had been expecting them. She was standing in her doorway with a large kitchen knife dripping with blood. As the mob came upon her, they stopped in their tracks. Both sides were silent. They were sizing each other up. The mob had the appearance of pack animals. They were ready to drive Evelyn back to the pack, should she try to escape. Evelyn, on the other hand, was like cornered prey. She was ready to fight to the death even though she stood no chance.

In situations like this, no one seems to remember who struck first. Was it the mob? Was it the witch? Did someone sneeze and startle the already tense crowd? In the end, it was only a debate point… Something to argue about when people felt remorse and were trying to justify their actions. This, of course, was a ridiculous idea because of the pure carnage that occurred.

The first strikes came from sticks and rocks. Evelyn made a couple of good slashes with her knife before she dropped it, although none of them were lethal. Surprisingly, she managed to dodge or deflect most of the blows with her hands and arms. Eventually, she dropped her knife and was just swinging her hands and kicking her feet wildly, thrashing furiously at anything that might enter her reach. When the crowd became more engaged, it looked more primal. She was punched in the face, causing her to drop to her knees. Someone kicked her in the head, and another person grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a standing position in the center of the pack. People were grabbing and clawing and biting and pulling at every part of Evelyn’s body like hyenas on a fresh kill. They literally tore her apart, senselessly beating and stomping her various bits of flesh into the ground as if they could somehow kill her more thoroughly.

The pure blood lust didn’t subside until people started to fall back in exhaustion. As they paused for that moment, they started to realize what they had just done. Some stood there feeling righteous. Some began quietly crying, while others were silent. All of them, however, were speechless.

At that moment, the sound of a young boy calling, “Hello? Is someone there? Why won’t you answer me? Please, I need help.” came from around the corner of the ruins.

One of the mob members instantly recognized his son’s voice echo in the night air. Unsure of whether the man should believe his own ears, he walked to the edge of the structure and peered around the corner. What he saw was his son, having been presumed dead, tied around the ankle with a bucket and brush beside him. An axe was wedged deeply into a tree trunk to which the rope was securely tied. The boy had been scrubbing the wall over and over again and his hands were blistered and his ankle was red and raw. The father, unable to remove the axe from the trunk, cut the rope freeing his son.

As the man reappeared from around the wall with his son, the crowd made a sound that was something like a cross between extreme joy and extreme terror. At this noise, a second sound was heard. This sound was so foreign to this group of blood-covered band of people who had just committed an unspeakable act. It was a sound that was so pure and simple that none of them could comprehend it. Only the boy had been unaffected by the events that happened in his name and recognized, at once, the sound of Evelyn’s baby crying.