Short, Funny and Tragic Stories

The Other Side

The rain pours hard on the streets of a cold, gloomy night. A man walks with his daughter, holding her small hand even though no one is around.

They're probably all out in vacation, he thinks.

They continue to walk the lonely street. A small wooden house is in front of them. The skies were darker there. As they stand on the garden, they see that the flowers are wilted to the color of rotten fruits.

They walk to the door, gently knocking on the wooden frame. A sign hung on the handle.

Welcome to the abode of Maria the Witch, it read.

Having read the sign, the child's heart beats faster. Her father did not inform her yet where they were going. Her father thought it would be safer for his child not to know, because when children saw witches, they are easily agitated.

"Daddy, why did the sign say something about a witch?" the child stares at her father, clenching his father's fist tightly.

"It's all going to be okay," the father assures her, but he knows he is just lying. Something would go terribly wrong eventually.

Then the door creaks open. An old lady stands at the entrance, examining her visitors.

"What business do I have with you?" she says in a raspy voice.

"This," the man says, holding out a tiny, red crystal.

"Ah, so you've come for a spirit?" she says, a smile gently forming on her wrinkled face.

The man nods.

"Well come in then," she invites, opening the door wide open.

The father feels no nervousness. His heart did not beat rapidly nor his palms grow sweaty, but his daughter surely did. Now they were sitting in a round table, covered with a smooth cloth embedded with a beautiful artwork. They were surrounded by various items used for witchcraft, some of which were so dangerous that it could even cause death.

Maria stares at them for a few seconds, just to check if they had any markings. Anyone who bared the markings sided with her enemies, the good witches. She sits down on a chair and puts her hands on the table, with her palms facing the ceiling.

"Now give me the fragment," she commands.

The man does as she says, placing the small crystal on the witch's palm. She closes her eyes as she tilts her head up.

"It is better to stay quiet to not anger the spirits," she whispers.

Then the room shakes rapidly, as if an earthquake is happening. They could hear thunder booming outside the house. A red light glows from the crystal on the witch's palm. The child hugs his father, crying in his arms. She is too frightened to even open her eyes. The father strokes his daughter's hair, trying to comfort her.

"It'll all be over soon, honey," the father says.

Suddenly, mist appears in front of them. It expands and expands until the witch opens her eyes.

"Now is the time. Speak to your wife's spirit," she says to the man, looking at the football-sized mist.

"Sarah?" he says, eager to talk to his deceased wife.

"Derrick, is that you?" a voice emanates from the mist.

The man bursts into tears, smiling widely. He tries to touch the mist, but his hand goes right through it.

"Derrick," Sarah says, her tone deepening to a serious one, "you have to listen to what I have to say."

"What is it, Sarah?" the man asks curiously.

"The witches. They're after you. You must go to a safe place now, before they see your markings!"

Suddenly the mist disappears into the air. Maria scowls at Derrick.

"So you side with the good witches, eh?" she says angrily, "Were you so desperate enough to see your dead wife to come to me?"

"B-but the good witches," the man staggers, "they don't have the ability to speak to the dead."

"So be it then," she says, smirking as an idea pops into her head.

She stands up, lifting her hand towards the man. A dark, red light emanates out of her hand. The man starts to rise from his seat, lifted by magic.

Then with one move, the witch snaps his neck. He falls to the ground, making a loud thump as he hit the wooden floor.

Now the witch walked to the child slowly. The child freezes in shock. Tears streams down her cheeks as her heart pumped even more wildly.

"Now for you, I have something special in mind," the witch says.

Suddenly, darkness envelops the two.

=+=+=+=+=+=

As the darkness fades, flowers and trees come into view. Maria and the girl stand in a prairie of roses and daffodils, with the warmth of the bright sun also gently grazing their skin.

"Ah, how lovely," the witch says.

"W-why did you take me here?" the girl staggers, too scared to even say a word.

"Can't you see how beautiful this is?"

"Uh yes, it's beautiful." the girl manages to say.

"This is what life is supposed to be, beautiful and lovely," she murmurs, picking up a flower and smelling its fragrance, "but it's just an illusion."

As soon as she finishes, everything turns dark. The sunny skies were no longer sunny. Gray clouds took over the skies, churning up a thunderstorm. flowers wilted everywhere.

"This is what life really is, dark and gloomy," she says, a frown creeping upon her face.

The child steps back. She was horrified at what she saw.

Then Maria lifts her hand up and pointed it at the girl. Dark magic appeared around her hand. She was hoping to kill her too, just like she did to the child's father, but she looked upon her eyes. She only sees the innocence of a five year old.

The witch sighs, putting her hand back down. She can not kill an innocent like her.

"Run, child, before I change my mind," Maria says, shaking her head.

The girl turns back and runs as fast as her little legs could take her into the vast prairie, not daring to look back.

"Run, because you still have a wonderful life ahead of you," the witch said to herself, her tears streaming down her face.

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A/N: I know, it's not that great.

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