The Witches Next Door

“Okay, when I say ‘go,’ I need both of you to follow me!” Betta hissed, her black tail swishing suspiciously as she sat on the window ledge of the screened porch. 

“Where are we going?” Frankie asked, wide, slightly crossed blue eyes staring up at Betta.

“We can’t go anywhere besides the porch. Mommy has to open the door first,” Winston growled without lifting his head. 

“Winston, for the last time, she’s not your mommy. She’s your owner. You're a bulldog, she’s a human. And we can go somewhere. Look. I made a hole in this corner. I want to show you and Frank Sinatra something.”

“They just call me Frankie,” the tiny Siamese kitten squeaked. 

“They might. I don’t use nicknames. I find them egregious. Your full name is sufficient.” Betta licked her black paw casually and flicked the tip of her tail. “Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming. Come on, Winston! You like an adventure!” Frankie encouraged. Winston lifted his wrinkled head. Heaving himself onto his short legs, he waddled over to check out Betta’s hole in the corner of the screen. 

Never one to stick around when a dog approached, Betta slid gracefully through the hole and into the backyard, as if to say, See how easy? Winston stuck his nose in the hole, sniffed the air, and shoved through, ripping the hole to four times its original size and wriggling awkwardly over the window frame to drop less than a foot to the ground on the other side. 

“C’mon, Frankie! You’ll like it out here!”

“I’ve never been in the yard before. It’s so big!” Frankie’s wide blue eyes searched the vast expanse of grass and leaves before carefully stepping through the now-monstrous hole. She quickly trotted to catch up to Winston, staying mostly under his chin as they followed Betta. She sat patiently near the south corner of the house, waiting for her companions to catch up, clearly an expert at all things yard-related. 

“The trick to being in the yard, Frank Sinatra, is knowing where shelter is and how quickly you can get to it,” Betta spoke condescendingly to Frankie, being the older and wiser cat in the household. She didn’t have the patience for the kitten’s antics or energy. Winston stopped to pee on a nearby bush and perked his ears up at a nearby squirrel.

“Winston! Not. Now. I have something very special to show both of you but you can’t get distracted.”

“Why are you showing us something special Betta? I didn’t think you even liked us,” Frankie trembled a little as a breeze ruffled her down-like fur. 

“I don’t. But I believe we all need this, for different reasons. And I can’t get what I want without bringing you two along.”

“Oh okay then. But what is it you want?” 

“I want full power and control over the household. I want to rule the entire family. I want complete authority!” Betta raised her voice only slightly as the thought of gaining power excited her. 

“I thought you already had all of that. Aren’t you the one in charge? You always tell us you are.”

Winston added, “Yeah, the humans get so excited whenever you walk in the room, like they’ve never seen you before. We’re there all the time and they ignore us.”

“That’s because I rarely let them see me. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Winston. You should try it sometime. In fact, I think you’re about to find out what I mean.”

“Why? Where are you taking us?”

“Next door.”

“Next door? To the haunted house? That place is so creepy. Mommy always tells me to stay out of that yard!”

“Why is it haunted?” Frankie piped up.

“Frankie, look at it. It’s falling apart, abandoned. And that’s where those noises are always coming from at night.” Winston kept his head down, but his bulging eyes rolled up at the roof of the dilapidated structure. The sun was starting to set and a sinister calm fell over the yard. 

“Oh, those noises are just the weird sisters. It’s not haunted, they just mostly work at night. It’s quiet during the day, so it only seems abandoned,” Betta explained.

“The weird sisters? Do they live there?”

“They do now. They moved in after the house was vacated. It’s not actually their house- they’re just using the space for their…work. That’s why the pool has turned to green slime and the roof is caving in over there on that front corner. They aren’t trying to repair anything. They’re just using the empty space for their meetings.”

“Meetings? Are we going to a meeting?” Frankie wheezed, struggling to keep up. The threesome had trekked across their own grassy backyard and were approaching what was once the fence line. Bushes had been planted and provided a bit of a barrier to a screened porch ripped open by a tree growing from within. The pool was, in fact, full of solid green slime. Random objects that had once been placed on the patio were falling over, decaying and strewn about. A ladder here, a lawn chair over there. Knocked over, covered in mold or dust. Or both. The unkempt yard around the pool overgrew into the remains of the screen, so it was unclear where the backyard ended and the screened porch began. 

“We are indeed going to a meeting. The weird sisters are eager to meet you two,” Betta affirmed, flicking her tail. 

“Why are they weird?” Winston’s stub of a tail wagged involuntarily, more out of nervous energy than excitement.

“And why do they want to meet us?” Frankie added, carefully stepping over the edge of what used to be the door frame and into the back porch with the others. 

“That’s what people used to call witches. They want to meet you because they need you for their…project.”

“Witches?!”

“Yes. Don’t think it’s unusual that I know a few witches, Winston. I’m a black cat. Sometimes, stereotypes come from reality.”

“I didn’t know we had witches in our neighborhood!”

“Well, they travel all over. Like I said, they haven’t been here long. But these particular witches have the ability to give me power over everyone-and everything- in our household. Just think, soon I’ll be able to use the can opener myself. I’ll be able to open doors, go outside whenever I want! At least, they said they can give me these powers. They did something similar once before, with a lady in Scotland.”

“So you’ll be the one in charge?” Frankie’s small voice asked.

“Exactly. We just need a little help from you two, a sacrifice, if you will.”

By now the trio was carefully navigating their way through a space between a wooden door that had warped away from its frame, leaving a space to enter the musty house. The smell of mildew overwhelmed them. Winston sniffed the air unapologetically, trying to identify the scent. Frankie reared and tried to retreat at the stench of something hardly human.

Betta egged them on. 

“Just a little further. They’re in the next room. Everything will be over soon enough. I’ll be rid of both of you and take my rightful place as Queen of the Household.”

“RID of us? You’re not taking us back with you?” Winston’s ears pinned back on his head as he shrank away from the cat. 

Betta grinned her sly smile. “That’s right, Winston. You and Frank Sinatra get to stay right here with the witches and I’ll return with full power!” 

“What are they going to do to us?” Frankie whispered to Winston.

“I don’t want to find out…” Winston tried backing away, but bulldogs don’t reverse well. Before he could manage the space to turn around amidst all the clutter and stacks of boxes, old furniture and trash, a pair of French doors with tattered burgundy curtains squeaked open slowly. 

“Betta? Is that you?” an elderly voice creaked through the dim light of the room.

“Yes, and I’ve brought your ingredients for the stew.”

Frankie and Winston looked at each other with wide eyes. Ingredients? Frankie ran under Winston’s short legs, which were trembling visibly now.

“Ah, come in, come in,” the old woman beckoned, waving an arm covered in draping cloth. Her long robes were shabby but colorful and bangles of bracelets adorned both arms. She had a scarf tied around her head. 

Frankie shrank back under Winston’s thick body, while Winston crouched down, nearly smashing Frankie under him. Betta sat on the overstuffed green velvet sofa with springs popping out, regal in her deliverance of her offerings.

“Welcome, small friends. Please join us in our boiling chamber,” the strange lady curled her fingers, beckoning the pets into the room she came from. Frankie’s tail was enormous and Winston whimpered quietly. “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt. We have treats!”

At the mention of treats, Winston’s stubby tail flicked back and forth and his ears pricked up. He knew better than to fall for the trick, but the promise of treats was too great. Plus, the smell of stew began to overwhelm the mildew in the air, and Winston’s nose took over. He gingerly took a step toward the doorway, while Frankie dug her sharp claws into the sticky carpet to keep from moving. 

“Winston!” Frankie hissed. “Where are you going?” 

“Don’t you smell that? Their stew smells wonderful!”

“It’s going to smell like you if you go in there!”

“But they said they have treats…” Winston couldn’t help himself. He lumbered across the room and crossed the threshold into the dimly lit second room. Two more witches hovered over a giant fire with a pot hanging over it. 

“Well, hello puppy! You must be Winston! Would you like a little puppy treat?” The witch on the left, closest to Winston, picked up something that looked like beef jerky and held it out toward Winston, enticing him to come closer. 

“Winston, no! They only want to put you in their stew!” Frankie cried, trying to decide between hiding or saving her friend. Deciding her claws were sharp enough to handle a couple of old hags, she charged at the woman with the puppy treat. The other witch, however, was incredibly quick and before she knew it, Frankie was suspended in mid-air, all four legs scrambling in every direction. As she scratched and writhed to be released from the witch’s grip, she sunk her claws into the witch’s forearm, causing the witch to drop her unceremoniously onto the ratty carpet. 

“Got it!” she cried, pulling the end of a lost claw out of her arm. “Toenail of a young kitten, not yet a year old. My dear, you’re not yet a year old, correct?” 

“No, I’m only a baby still, I think,” Frankie sighed as she licked her fur. Betta scowled in the doorway. 

“That’s it? You don’t need to take her life to obtain that which you seek?” 

“Oh no, dear. A cat can lose one of her claws without even feeling it! Kittens lose them all the time. This one is perfect for our stew.”

“What about the canine? Surely you’ll need all of him…?” Betta was exasperated. 

The witch with the dog treats smiled delightedly. “Of course not. The saliva of a canine can be obtained as he drools for his treat, just like this, right good boy? Who’s a good boy?” the witch dangled Winston’s treat over his head while collecting his dripping drool into a little bowl below his jaw. Focused on the treat just out of reach, Winston sat properly without moving, in hopes of the treat eventually dropping. It did, straight into his mouth, as soon as the witch finished collecting her sample. 

“All set! Thank you Betta! And now, I hope you’ll feel more powerful in your home than you ever did before. We appreciate your service!” The first witch, still standing by the French doors, bowed elegantly at Betta as she motioned for the visitors to move toward the back door. 

“That’s all? There’s…nothing more? Surely you’ll need to keep these two…for research…” Betta stammered, at a loss to understand what had just happened. 

“Thank you ladies! We’ll watch for you in the windows from our house!” Frankie called as she and Winston trotted out the back door. 

“You’re welcome, little friend. Thank you. Our stew would not be complete without you!”

“Can we stop by again for more treats?” Winston huffed as he followed Frankie to the door. 

“Only if Betta allows it. Remember, she’s in charge now!” the little old lady called, winking at Betta. Betta rolled her eyes. 

“I have to take them home with me?” she snarled. 

“You will not be in charge of anything if you lose their beloved pets,” the first witch smiles, adding infinitely more wrinkles to her face.

Betta made a hissing sound of consent. “Fine. Let’s go, you two. Back to confinement.” 

“Will we see Mommy soon? I bet she can’t wait to see this!” Winston hopped toward the back door, wobbling around the broken bookshelf and piles of cardboard boxes lining the walls of the back room. 

“She’s not ‘Mommy.’ Come on!” Betta sulked.

“Maybe you can show Mommy the witches when you go for your walk, Winston!” Frankie gave a little hop over the threshold to the back porch as she looked back at her favorite buddy. 

“Oh, good idea, Frankie!” Winston charged ahead, stopping once he was past the slimy swimming pool to pee on one of the hedges between the two houses. “Frankie! Get that squirrel!”

“Sshhh…Winston, I’ve got a lizard over here. I’m gonna get it….” she crouched down and wiggled her bottom, focusing all her attention on a clueless lizard nearby. 

Betta marched directly between the two of them on her way back to their home, tail held high, as if she’d never met either of them. 

“Betta, Where are you going? Are you the Queen of the Household now?” Frankie called as Betta hopped through the hole in the screened porch.

“I don’t know yet. I’m off to find the can opener.”