Snippets of Writing

17.

I lie in wait inside my cottage made of the most delicious things children can dream of. I am hungry, oh so hungry. It has been so long since children strayed this way, and even longer since I was imprisoned in this cottage. As it turns out, only happiness can truly destroy a witch, and though happiness can't be formed as a tangible thing, candies and chocolates come close.

I lurk just inside the window, out of sight of any child that could be skipping down my path, oh-so-happy to find a sweet treat in the middle of the dark and dreary wood. For I can hear footsteps outside, pattering against the packed dirt. Two pairs of feet, it sounds like.

"Look, Hansel!" I hear a young girl's voice say with tired joy. "A chocolate brick!" I hear a long breath from the boy - presumably her brother - and they fell right into my trap. Hungry as they are, probably having been lost in the woods for days, they finish it and move toward my door. And that is when I open the door and snatch both of them, pulling them inside. The candy burns my hand, makes it hurt so much, but the promise of the sweet flesh of children is overpowering. I slam the door shut - I have tried to dash past but the agony is too much - and drag both the children into the iron cage that I have used the last dregs of my magic to create.

The iron cage shuts with a snap and I sigh. Two children, both young and with a little fat on their bones. I once was the greatest witch around, terrorizing the areas around for miles. Now I have been reduced to luring children to my house to eat.

The boy looks fatter than his sister. He's first, then.

I haul out my cauldron and set it on the fire. It's rusty from disuse but that's fine. The fire is always lit, flickering red and orange in the hearth. Water goes in the cauldron. Meat is next. I turn and unlock the cage with a flick of my wrist. The children can't do anything to me, and I don't want to waste time unlocking the cage after the water is boiling.

I lean over the cauldron to feel the heat of the water - almost ready. As I turn to get the boy, I am pushed forward. I grab the edges of the cauldron to prevent myself from falling in but it is scalding hot and I pull my hands back. The child - I presume it is the sister, for the hands are bony - does not relent. She shoves harder and I feel a second pair of hands on my back as I try to twist around - the brother.

I scream as I fall into the boiling cauldron, big enough to hold two of me. The water scalds my skin and it is too much to deal with. The pain. It hurts. I scream a few curses as my body seizes up and I stop thinking, with a last thought in my head: only happiness can kill a witch. Boiling water does not seem to me like happiness, so I am stuck in this agony forever - or at least until the flame goes out or the water evaporates.

The cauldron is enchanted to always be filled with clean, fresh water.

The flame is a gift given to me by the leader of our coven, enchanted to never go out.

I am stuck in this pain for eternity.

from writing techniques portfolio: point of view
freshman year english