The Witch of Bayberry Avenue

   She was known as Old Lady Dodson, or sometimes The Witch to the kids around the neighborhood. Nobody actually knew if her last name was Dodson though. That was just the name that was on her mailbox. No one had ever been brave enough to find out.

   She lived alone in the old run-down house at the end of the cul-de-sac on Bayberry Avenue. Timmy Harris claimed that shortly after she moved into the neighborhood, he had seen her burying a body and that she had razor-sharp claws and vampire teeth. Most of the neighborhood kids were pretty sure Timmy was lying.

   At 12 years old, Johnny Masterson was the oldest kid on Bayberry Avenue. In his eyes, he was practically an adult, and old enough to know that there’s no such thing as witches. He knew that they only existed in fairy tales and Disney movies.

   Johnny had taken it upon himself to prove once and for all that she wasn’t a witch. Now he found himself on her front porch, his finger hovering dangerously close to her doorbell. Sweat rolled from his brow, down the bridge of his nose, and landed with a small splash on the wood in between his feet.

   After what seemed to be an eternity, Johnny finally pushed the doorbell, and he heard the familiar chiming of bells coming from inside the house; the sound that a grandfather clock makes at the top of every hour.

   Johnny stood there peeking through the small window next to the front door looking for any sign of movement, but none came. As he was about to press the bell for the second time, the door clicked loudly and then popped open.

   The door slowly swung open with a loud squeak. Johnny’s body tensed, waiting for someone, or something to jump out at him. But once the door had swung completely open, he realized there was no one standing there.  Huh, he thought to himself. Must be an automatic door opener.

   As he stepped into the house, he noticed it looked much larger from the inside...and much nicer. It looked like a totally different house on the inside. A grand staircase, a large, shiny, black piano, expensive looking art adorning the walls. Or at least he thought they looked expensive. He wasn’t exactly an art dealer.

   “Hello?” Johnny called out, the word echoing loudly throughout the house, causing him to jump a little. “Is anyone here? The front door was open, so I’m not trespassing! Hello?”

   “Can I help you young man?” a soft voice said from right behind him.

   Johnny jumped out of his skin and let out an almost comical scream, making Johnny think of the way the girls would scream in the horror movie he watched at the sleepover at Sam Donaldson’s house several weeks before.

   “Oh, I’m so sorry little one. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said as he was turning around.

   There she was. Old Lady Dodson, the Witch of Bayberry Avenue. Johnny gave her a quick up and down glance, looking for razor-sharp claws, or at the very least, some fangs.

   But instead of some hideous beast lurking behind him, there was a little old lady who looked more like someone’s granny than a cannibalistic witch. Just a sweet looking old lady in her 60s or 70s, short, curled and graying hair, face slightly wrinkly around the eyes and mouth.

   “But, you're not a witch,” he said, regretting his words as they slipped out. “I mean...”

   She looked at him with inquisitive eyes, waiting for him to find the right words, but none came. He just sat there staring at her with his mouth wide open like an idiot.

   “You’d better close that mouth, or else a fly might wander in,” she said. “And what was that about a witch?”

   Johnny was horrified. He had just called this nice, old lady a witch, and he couldn’t take it back. He’d have to just tell her the truth and hope she has a sense of humor.

   “This is really embarrassing, but there’s a rumor being spread around by the neighborhood kids that you're a witch or something. But I’m old enough to know there’s no such thing,” he said with as much authority as a 12-year-old could muster.

   “A witch, you say? I’ve never heard that one before. But, I can see why you kids might think that. I’m a wrinkly, old lady that lives in a run-down house on the end of a cul-de-sac. I’d probably think I was a witch too.”

   She gestured for Johnny to come with her, so he followed behind her as she walked into a large dining room. The room had a vaulted ceiling with an extremely large crystal chandelier hanging over the table, three large floor to ceiling windows with the curtains drawn open, revealing a not so picturesque view of the overgrown backyard, and a ton of expensive looking paintings, statues and stuffed animal heads lining with walls of the room. She sat down in a chair, and he did the same.

   “As you can see, I’ve been working on the inside of the house. Eventually, I’ll get to the outside. But, as I think you can tell, I’m definitely no witch. Just a lonely old widow living out her remaining years in this new neighborhood.”

   They sat quietly, looking at each other for several seconds, Johnny trying to come up with something nice to say, when Mrs. Dodson’s face lit up with a smile.

   “I’ve just had the most brilliant idea!” she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Why don’t you gather up all the neighborhood kids and bring them over here for a little lunch tomorrow? That way they can see that I’m just a regular old lady and we can put an end to those witch rumors. What do you say?”

   “I say that’s a great idea! I’ll round everyone up now to tell them. Oh, and one last thing before I leave, is your last name Dodson? That’s what we all call you because that’s the name on your mailbox.”

   “Well, I suppose you should know my real name then. Dodson must have been the person here before me, because my name is Mrs. Carline. Hazel Carline. And yours is?”

   “Johnny. Johnny Masterson. Nice to meet you Mrs. Carline. I’ll see you tomorrow with the rest of the kids!”

   Johnny ran as fast as he could to the kid’s neighborhood hangout, a small pocket park on the corner of Bayberry and Main. He couldn’t wait to brag about being the one brave enough to talk to her.

   Of course, none of the kids believed he had actually done it, but he insisted it was true. He told them they’d be feeling pretty stupid once they met her and found out he was telling the truth.

*

   The next day, the neighborhood kids, 11 of them in total,  met out in front of Suzy Harris’s house. As they made their way towards Mrs. Carline’s house, the kids discussed who thought she was a witch, who thought she wasn’t, and what they’d do if she tried to turn them into stew. Most of the kids said they thought she wasn’t a witch, but they were just saying that to seem brave. All of the kids, besides Johnny, were secretly crossing their fingers that they didn’t get turned into stew.

   They all followed Johnny single file up the path to the front door. Johnny stopped, turned around to the other kids, held his finger up, reached out to his side, and pushed the doorbell with a smile. Everyone else took a step back in unison, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

   The door clicked as it had the day before, and the door swung open. The kids took one more synchronized step back, waiting for a witch to jump out and kill them. But, there was no one there.

   “Follow me,” said Johnny, waving his arm. “She has some kind of automatic door opener. She’ll be out in a minute. I’m sure.”

   “Is that you Johnny?” came Mrs. Carline’s voice from the dining room. “Did you bring your little friends? Bring them all in here so we can start the feast.”

   Johnny led the way, and as he turned the corner into the dining room, he jumped a little when he discovered that Mrs. Carline wasn’t alone. There were at least ten or eleven other old ladies standing around the dining room.

   “Welcome kids! Welcome! I’m glad you were all able to make it today! These are my sisters. We’ll all learn names later. Come in! Take a seat somewhere at the table, and we can start the feast.”

   Hesitantly, all the kids took their seats at the table.

   “Umm, Old Lady Dodso...” started Billy Davis, before Johnny kicked him under the table to correct him. “I mean Mrs. Carline? You said we should sit down so we could start eating, but there isn’t any food on the table. Is someone bringing it out soon?”

   “That’s right, little Billy. You’re very observant for such a young boy. There’s no food on the table because you aren’t going to be eating. We are going to be eating you. But don’t worry! We aren’t going to eat your flesh or anything. I mean, we aren’t monsters after all. No, we’ll be dining on your souls tonight. It’s what keeps us alive.”

   The kids all slowly looked at each other, processing what she had just said. Before any of them could start to even think about running, Mrs. Carline stepped in between the kids and the door.

   “Locomoulso Vexatasi!” shouted Mrs. Carline with the snap of her fingers.

   Instantly, every kid in the room stopped, frozen in place. The only thing on their whole body that was moving were their eyes, furiously glancing back and forth, a look of horror on every one of their faces.

   “That was a little paralyzing spell. There’s really no use in fighting it. As some of you may have guessed, I am, in fact, a witch. I don’t have razor-sharp claws or vampire teeth. But my sisters and I do eat souls. We move into a town, let the rumors start, clean the town of souls, then we move on. We’ve been doing this for hundreds of years.

   “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. My sisters and I will perform a Blood Ceremony, and we will receive your souls. We leave just enough of you in there so you are able to fall under our spells. Then we will send you back to your parents so you can invite them over for dinner tomorrow.”

   The coven carried out the Blood Ceremony for several hours, and through the magic of the incantations, stole the souls of every kid there. When they had finished and they had placed all the kids under a Compliance Spell, they sent them on their way home to talk to all the parents in the neighborhood.

   “Well my sisters,” said Mrs. Carline, sitting at the head of the dining room table. “There’s nothing quite like a few fresh souls to reinvigorate ourselves, right? I know it happened sooner than we would’ve liked and we’ll have to move again now, but that’s something we’ll just have to deal with. But for now, we need to get ready for tomorrow’s ceremony. Agatha, go grab the biggest cauldron and the advanced spell book. We’ve got some work to do.”

   Mrs. Carline and her coven moved away from Bayberry Avenue the following week to a house a few towns over, on Sycamore Road. They did one last ceremony before they left: they put a curse on the residents. In the papers over the following couple of weeks, there were stories of murderous husbands killing their cheating wives and then themselves, of young boys and girls committing mass suicide, and various other tragedies until the entire neighborhood was either dead or in jail for murder.

*

  Several months later, George and Kevin Sullivan sat staring at the old, worn down house on Sycamore Road, neither of them wanting to take a step closer.

   “Come on Kevin, you’re the one saying that she’s not a witch. It should be you who rings the bell.”

   Not wanting to be labeled a wimp by his younger brother, Kevin took a step forward. Then another. Next thing he knew, he was standing a foot away from the front door. Kevin lifted his arm slowly, panic setting in the closer he got to the doorbell. He took a deep breath, looked back at his little brother, and pushed the doorbell. He heard the bell chiming from inside the house, and a second later there was a loud click as the door swung open and he walked in.