I Put A Spell On You

Come Little Children

Once upon a time…… in an old land filled with threats from the natives whose land was stolen from them and the fear of wicked humans whose souls were sold to the devil for power, a young man awoke to nothing. Well, he hadn't really awoken to nothing, but nothing had caused him to awaken. The young man looked around to find his brother's bed empty. "Binx?" He called out before climbing out of bed. "Binx!" He yelled out again, however his shout was drowned out by the soft lull of a musical voice wafting through the air.

"Come, little children, I'll take thee away, into a land of enchantment…"

The young man felt his eyes blow wide as he scrambled outside and called out again, his heart thundered in his chest. "Binx!"

"Come, little children, the times come to play…." The enchanting voice continued as it began to grow fainter with distance.

The young man frantically looked around and saw no sign of his brother. As his gaze wandered toward the sky, he noticed a billowing purple smoke spilling over the top of the trees from somewhere in the woods across the field. "They conjure!" He exclaimed and rushed off to call out for help before rushing into the forest. The man managed to tumble down every hill leading down to the witches' cottage before landing at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. He shook off the pain before wading through the creek to catch a glimpse into the witch's home.

Inside the cottage, a young, sickly child sat carefully in a chair as three young men went about their business. One of the men had light blonde hair that sat atop his head in joyful curls. He wore a long dress dyed with midnight blues and blacks that seemed to shimmer as he moved from a cauldron to a stand on which sat a thick leather-bound book. He had black-framed glasses that sat firmly atop his sharp nose as he peered down at whatever foul spells lay written on the page. Another of the witches stood off to the side, gathering ingredients for their potion. He too, wore a dress, although his design was certainly different from his brother's. It's colors consisted of blacks and whites and greys. His fiery red hair made up for the lack of color in his clothes. He also had glasses, although the lenses were darkened to the point where one could not see the eyes behind them. The last witch was an ethereal beauty. He had straight hair of pitch black that fell over his stormy eyes. His pale skin was as white as snow and his dress was made of midnight blacks and purples swirled throughout the design of the dress. He stood in the back by the young child.

The young man peeking in the window knew of these witches all too well. Everyone in Salem knew of them, but they could never get any proof. But now the Sanderson Brothers would finally meet the noose.

The young man slipped in the dirt and all the witches inside turned to look at the window before one of them, the oldest, moved to the window to look outside. The young man hid against the side of the house as he waited for the witch to turn back inside.

The witch in the window, the one dressed in lots of purples, grimaced at the sunlight. "Oh, look. Another glorious morning." He paused. "Makes me sick!" He spat before closing the shutters and turning back inside.

The young man quickly found a way in through a small window in the loft and crawled to the edge to watch the witches again, searching for the right time to grab his brother and run. The young man grimaced as he heard a cough rack through his brother's body.

"Virgil!"

The witch in purple turned to his brother in blues.

"Yes, Logan?"

"We must finish the potion so that we may help our guest of honor."

Virgil nodded and he joined his brothers as they read through the ingredients.