The Witch in the Woods
“You may know about the Salem Witch Trials, but do you know about the Weeping Witch of the Woods?” Barry stabbed a can of beer with his car key, tilted his head back, and pulled open the tab. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing his mom’s lipstick “blood” across his chin. The bonfire flicked hellish shadows across his face. His dark curls, normally wild, were gelled back. He flicked his cape and stepped even closer to the fire. The full moon shone like a spotlight on him and a group of teens sat in a circle around him as his audience.
Wind rustled the remaining leaves on their limbs. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms wishing I had had a pirate-like coat for my costume and contemplating going back inside for a drink. The back door to the house opened and some Duran Duran song cut the night before the door slid closed again.
“Gwendolyn Russell lived in a stone cottage in the woods. At night she walked the streets of the village, carrying a lantern and singing a tale of woe. Her siren calls attracted men into her lair where she-” Barry lunged suddenly at the boy to his left, Marty McFly- “Murdered them!” Barry roared. “Over a dozen men went missing and no one knew what had become of them until she attracted the attention of Bartholomew Wendell: handsome bachelor and my great-great-great-great grandfather!” Barry paused for effect. “She lured Bartholomew into her lair where she served him turnip stew. Good thing he had a dislike for turnips or else I never would have been born.” A girl sitting next to me, Little Bo Peep, gasped.
“He pretended to eat her stew to be polite, and she left the cabin to fetch water from the well to make tea. He started snooping and found something he could never unsee. In a wicker basket near the stove, were no less than 12 human heads!” A freshman who was dressed as a jack-o-lantern shrieked and jerked backward, clutching her friend’s arm. A toothless grin twisted across Barry’s face.
“The smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils and flies darted out of the basket of horrors. He vomited right there on the kitchen floor before dashing out of the house. Bartholomew ran as fast as he could while Gwendolyn cackled in the distance behind him.” Barry cleared his throat and produced the shrillest voice he could muster. “Oh Sweet Bartholomew! Where are you going? Can’t you stay for tea?”
“Gwendolyn was taken into custody that next day and the judge condemned her to be hanged. She was strung up. And just as the executioner kicked the bucket out from under her, the rope snapped and she fell, still alive. So the executioner found some more rope and tied another noose, but this time, the beam attached to the scaffolding snapped and her death was foiled once more. Then they decided to burn her at the stake, but it suddenly began raining and the fire wouldn’t start. They tried to drown her in the river, but she wouldn’t sink so finally, having tried to kill this woman no less than six times, the people of the town threw her in her well and poured tar and concrete down on her!”
If the group was transfixed when he started, they were positively bewitched now. Half drank bottles of beer and plastic cups of punch were abandoned in the grass. Even Frankenstein himself was letting his cigarette burn out between his fingers as he stared up at Barry.
“Three days later, on All Hallow’s Eve, her body was pulled from the well, completely frozen the way she died. They put it on a slab and placed it in the town square as a warning of what happens to witches.”
“W-what happened to her? The body in the square? It’s not there anymore.” Marty McFly piped up.
“It has since been moved to the Old North Cemetery, But legend has it, on Halloween night, she jumps down from the stone slab and creeps the woods singing her siren song: ‘Can’t you stay for tea?’”
Barry bowed with a flourish of his cape and the group clapped. He took a seat back on the grass and I approached him.
“Ahoy, Matey!” He smirked, gesturing to my red bandana and the plastic sword tucked into my old leather belt.
“Ahoy, I need a favor. Can you please drive my brother home from your house tomorrow morning? Mom’s working the early shift at the hospital and my car’s in the shop.”
“I thought the boys were sleeping at your place tonight?” He furrowed his eyebrows.
“Joey told me he was sleeping over at Nate’s after trick or treat.”
“So they lied to both of us.” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “C’mon let’s go find ’em.”
“Are you sure you’re good to drive?” Barry’s greenish-gray station wagon with decorative wood paneling on the doors was parked under a streetlight.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He put the key in and the engine turned over. “What you should be worried about is Nate once I find him.”
“I’m sure it’s a miscommunication.”
“It better be. If he gets grounded again I’m gonna kill him.”
“Why does it matter to you if he gets grounded?”
“Because my parents make me be the warden. I have to stay home and make sure he’s not sneaking out or something.”
“Dude that sucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
We pulled up to my house a few minutes later and I jumped out of the car. I went inside to find the house deserted save for my mom who was already asleep. Barry drove us a few blocks over to his house where he did the same. Still no sign of Nate or Joey.
“I wonder if he’s with her.” Barry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Who?”
Barry sighed, “Nate’s been talking about this girl he has a crush on. Tammy or Trisha or something. I told him he’s too young to be wasting time on girls but you know how boys are...”
A sudden realization hit me. “I think I know where they are.”
Barry tilted his head at me.
“Did you tell him the story about the witch and your grandpa?”
“Yes, of course he knows about it why--- Oh my god.” Barry peeled out of his driveway and bolted toward town.
Barry parked the station wagon behind the church, near the dumpster so it couldn’t be seen from the street. The wrought iron gates to the cemetery were closed and white metal sign hung on one of the rungs:
CEMETERY CLOSES AT DUSK
TRESSPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
A rusty lock lay bent open on the ground. Barry kicked it aside, pulling the gate open with a creak and gesturing me inside.
“We should have brought a flashlight.” I said, my eyes adjusting to the darkness as the light from the parking lot faded inside the fence. The cemetery was in just enough disrepair to not warrant any complaints from family members of the deceased. Our only guide was the moonlight reflecting off the crumbling headstones and rusting iron crosses as the cobblestone path only stretched a few yards before it was swallowed by weeds and dirt.
“Let’s find ’em quick. I’m not going to get got by the witch for that dingus.” Barry said from a few paces behind me.
“Oh come on. The only thing we should be scared of is getting caught trespassing.”
“So you really don’t believe me?” Barry fell into step beside me.
“I believe you have fun telling the story.”
“Not even when there is proof?” Barry turned right and gestured to me to follow him. On a slab of concrete about three feet tall, in the middle of a row of graves, stood a statue of a woman, dressed in a shroud of dripping stone, her crumpled face upturned and her mouth agape as if screaming.
“I see why they call her the weeping witch.” Sediments from centuries of rainwater had warped her stoney face, creating the effect of tear-stained cheeks.
“Creepy right?” Barry looked over at me as I continued to study the woman. I shivered imagining her slow, painful death as the tar and concrete solidified her skin to stone.
“All this proves is that she was real. Or this statue is anyways. That doesn’t mean she haunts this graveyard or the woods beyond.” I continued past her, further into the cemetery. Barry scoffed at me. We continued on in silence.
I had just heard faint voices coming from the back of the cemetery when something slammed hard against my shoulder. I yelped as it pushed me forward. Quickly regaining my footing, I wheeled around, drawing my fist back.
“Woah, woah woah!” Barry put his hands up. “It’s just me, I tripped over a stupid vase.” He kicked something in the grass that made a metallic clank.
“Next time, I swing.” I lowered my fist.
“If the witch isn’t real, then why are you so jumpy? It’s just us two here, right?” Even in the darkness I could see his grin.
“It’s perfectly normal to be scared by someone grabbing you.” I turned back. “This way, I think I hear them.”
“What are you doing here?” Joey had his arm around a girl as they reclined before a small fire. We found them at the very back of the graveyard at the treeline to the woods.
“Taking you home before you get picked up for trespassing. Who is this?” I pointed between the girl next to Joey and the other beside Nate
“I’m Janie,” she scooted away from my brother. “And that’s Tina.”
“Just go away man, we’re only hanging out.” Nate glared at Barry.
“Just hanging out? You know what’s in these woods on Halloween night.” Barry threw his arms up.
“Yeah, but we’ll be safe, don’t worry.” Nate pulled Tina into his side.
I rolled my eyes.
Barry huffed. “I gotta go take a leak. But when I get back we are getting out of here.”
“Seriously? You can’t wait like 10 minutes for us to leave the cemetery?”
“I won’t pee on any of the graves.” He waved me off, stalking back into the woods.
“What were you thinking? Breaking and entering!” I turned back to Joey.
“The padlock wasn’t that sturdy, it only took a pinch, and it completely fell off.” Nate pointed at the bolt cutters lying next to him in the grass. I glared at him.
“You should both be at home in a sugar coma, watching The Amityville Horror or something. Not looking for cryptids in a churchyard!”
“Don’t get so high and mighty. I know you were at a party tonight.”
“Yeah so? I told mom I was going to that party. Unlike you who lied!”
“I’m sure you told mom that there would be underage drinking at this party too, right?” Joey leapt to his feet.
“I didn’t have anything but soda!”
“Oh right, sure!” He said sarcastically.
“Hey guys, what’s that?” Tina was standing now, pointing into the woods. Nate, Joey, and I all snapped our heads in the direction of her finger. A flicker of light was floating between the trees, footsteps crunching in the freshly- fallen leaves. Nate picked up the bolt cutters and held them in front of him like a sword. Joey grabbed Janie’s hand.
“I’m sure it’s just a trick of the eye. Or maybe some other stupid kids out here trying to find the witch.” I said more confidently than I felt.
A moan reverberated from between the trees, breathing hoarse and labored.
“Let’s get out of here!” I grabbed Janie and Tina by the arms and thrust them in the direction of the front gates. A wind blew through the unkempt grass, making the tree limbs creak and extinguishing both the fire the kids had made and the light in the forest. We ran, jumping over headstones and dodging trees as a voice called out behind us.
“Can’t you stay for tea?!”
My heart raced faster than my feet as I pursued the four teenagers through the graveyard. If I live through this, I’ll clean up some of these graves to atone for the commotion we are causing on consecrated ground.
The voice continued to moan, and my brother and his friends were at least 50 feet in front of me when my foot caught on a root. I threw my hands out to catch myself and I felt something grab my ankle. I shrieked, throwing myself over on my back. A shadow loomed over me and before I could think, I swung my fist forward and it collided with something soft and dewey. Barry swore, staggering back and clutching his face.
“What the--?” I stammered, leaping to my feet.
“I think you broke my nose!” He yelled.
“I told you next time I’d swing!” I grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his face so I could assess the damage. “If it helps, the blood does make your vampire costume more realistic.”
“Do you think the boys are scared?”
“So all that moaning was you? And the light?” I turned toward the direction they ran but couldn’t see anything. I could forgive Joey for leaving me if it would get him to listen to me next time. When I turned around, Barry was holding a zippo. He flicked it on and snapped the top shut again.
“So how did you get the wind to extinguish the fire?”
“That was just lucky I guess.” He shrugged. “When we tell this story later, can we say that I broke my nose while saving you and fighting off the witch?”
“Whatever you need, buddy.” I rolled my eyes again as we continued walking toward the front gate. As we passed through the middle again, I scanned the graves until I noticed the stone slab engraved with “Gwendolyn Russell, murderer and witch, turned to stone for her crimes.” Another gust of wind rattled through the graveyard, making my skin prickle.
“Wait a second.” I pointed to the empty slab. “Where did she go?”