ivyrose • klaus

do you know the witch down the street?

Do you know the witch down the street, children?

Ha-ha, not that kind of witch with green skin and long fingers. No, this witch will not melt by pouring water on them or by the smell of garlic. It would be funny, but again, no, this witch does not fly on a broom stick nor have a black cat.

You see, children, this witch is nothing like you have seen or heard before. With your young and naïve minds, think of the scariest thing possible. Is it your mother's fury? Perhaps you broke her favourite china set and she stomps around the home, looking for the guilty party. Is it your best friend's temper when she discovers the secret you've hidden from them? Whatever frights you so much that even sleep evades you, this witch is far greater.

This witch created that fear, some say, while others say this witch is fear.

Yet her own fear, her own pain, is called forth by the silver dagger crafted within wolfsbane. This weapon lays in the hands of a man who knows no shame. A man known as the Great Evil. It is because of him the shadow of doom grows over the earth. 

Funny, isn't it? This stranger was so evil, yet, so kind to this scorned witch. But, let us not get distracted by niceties.  

For as long as she understood the world around her, this witch felt as if she did not belong. Her family was different than her and the man she believed so hard to be her father was nothing of the sorts. Can you imagine, children, your father abandoning you before you got the chance to say hi? Before you realized what and who you were? This witch knew that by the back of her hand and by the blood in her veins, she was different.

Oh, how so? Well, how long do you think witches live for?

Fifty years? O, what a daring answer. One-hundred? You are close, young one. Think of the biggest number in your mind. This witch is older. Now, you would think she walks with a cane and wears a black hood to hide herself, right? No, not this witch.

This witch looks just like you, just like me, and just like your teacher. She could be your older sister, your younger brother, or your mother's friend and you would not know. This witch has blended so much magic, even the earth and nature cannot believe!

O, don't scream, children because the witch can hear you! Better than any vampire with excellent healing, faster than a werewolf on four legs, and wiser than the oldest of researchers, this witch is someone you could never imagine or see.

But do not grow curious, children, for she lives down the street. The naughty and bad have walked through her doors and never come out. The vile and evil return sunken and dry. The vice hoard bring in a storm, but before you know, no one has thrown out a rope. The proud and great hurried against her estate, but in blasts of fire and spills of blood, not even a scream escaped a lung.

Teachers, behave. No hair on a child has been frayed. My words may sound like a mental puzzle, but if you dare so speak, I will choke you with a muzzle. I do not mean to frighten or scar your young minds because with a single word, all of this you would have not heard. For with this breath I speak my words and with your deepest focus, I will sing like an enchanted mockingbird.

Remember to fear this witch, to shake every time her name is spoken, do not for a second relax when she grumbles, but heed this warning to not stir up trouble. The witch is near and the witch is far, the witch can fly, this witch is faster than any car. For many will come and travel far to see this witch fall, all can try and they will die. Not one man nor creature has the power or gull to stop this wicked natural cheat. Nor by fire nor by blood has she fallen, but by a single blade has she been crestfallen. But remember children, she always lives down the street.

Now, children. Do you know about the witch who lives down this street?