Hoarding away

The door opens with a creak and you are greeted with a half smile from the lady clutching at the inside handle. She opens the door further and ushers you inside. Approaching the doorway, you are further greeted by the rancid, mildewy ferment of death. Second thoughts race your mind as the lady closes the door behind her. The door leads to a corridor, unlit, bleak and devoid of character, colour or lightbulbs. Following the lady further into the house, she settles in an armchair in what was one day the main room of the house. Sunlight barely reaches into the room as hastily fashioned cuts of cloth are placed over the windows. This room is different. It has been painted a dark colour and wooden shelves adorn every wall, sporting a wide array of items, numerous jars, nothing promising looking. Small metal meat hooks hang from the ceiling and the source of the smell is discovered. Animals are displayed here, fastened with wire around the centre of the animal. Despite its apparant demise, the animal does not seem to have been there long, nor does its blood drip from anywhere. The room is too poorly illuminated to see a cause of death and you do not care to give it any more attention. Returning your attention to the lady, she wears a long, dark dress with arms that pass the cuff. The dress is in tatters and has pieces of fabric cut in different places. Her hair is beginning to knot together in places and she appears to have not washed in a long time. "Do you want a rabbits foot for luck?" she asks. "No thank you". I highly doubt the thing will bring any luck. "A piece of jewellery?" Again, no thank you. More women live here, and look and dress similar to the first, entering through a doorway. They do not smile. Their posture hunched and decrepit, their hands gnarled and seem unable to unclench. You notice more about the room, a mirror draped in leather. The mirror has doors, and they cover the reflective surface. It gives off an air that it has never been touched, as it is coated in a thick layer of dust. The witch speaks. "What can we do for you?" she asks. Her voice raspy and hoarse. "Why do you have these things?" you ask, gesturing to the items on the shelf. "In case somebody specifically asks for something" one replies. The jars are all full of what you assume to be vinegar, a preservative for the items inside. You think you know all you need to know about that. The floor is littered with the skeletal remains of what looks like chickens, cats and ferrets. A waist high half moon stone table sits against a far wall and is coloured with splashes of a darkening maroon, ornate candle sticks and knives, it becomes apparant the use of the table. "I brought you something". Removing a small, double edged dagger from your pocket, you delicately step towards the haggle of women and place the item on the shelf near them. The woman shambles towards the knife, grasps onto it and holds it to the light. Inspecting the item, she seems to be pleased with the gift, and returns her hands to her waist, putting the item in a small bag hanging from a cord around her waist. "I wanted a pendant" she says, and the rest of them smirk between themselves. The shelves are almost alive with small jars of herbs, oils, skulls and candles, all used in ritualistic practices to ask the spirits for favourability on their desires. Despite their obvious purpose, you can't help but think they are the least dismal looking thing in the room and seem to radiate a form of energy. If it had a voice, it would object to the intent of the user, however you somehow sympathise for the women. There are a lot of items here and would have taken a considerable amount of time to amass, nor are they easily come by. "Don't leave" one of them says. There is almost a note of pain in her voice. "Stay" another chimes. "Learn the arts". It is almost as if they know what the other will say before they say it. Looking intently at the haggle of women, you can sense their auras, their intentions and feel it is not of sensible opinion to take the conversation further. "We will give you something in return" one of the women trails her sentence and makes way towards a room from where she came and returns cradling something in her hands. Slowly walking towards you, she opens her hands to reveal a frog. "Looks like any other frog" you exclaim. Looking closer, you find that the frog has strange markings and the woman begins to speak. "It is not just any frog. It is a familiar frog. It is a spirit with a body. A gift from God. It was given to us a a gift, for its infinite supply of blood. If you stay, eventually, we will let you have it". "So it's immortal?" you raise your eyes to meet the woman's gaze. "Yes. Spirits cannot die, they only pass on". The woman places the thing in her satchel and returns to the rest of the women congregating near the armchairs. "Shouldn't you like, hand that in, for science?" the haggle scoff and turn to each other with looks as if something smelt funny. They say nothing for a few, very long moments. "If I charge people money to heal their ailments, why would I wish for the cure?" "Makes sense" you reply. You can take the stench no longer. "I'll be leaving now" you state. "Don't forget about us" one of them says. Stepping out of the room, one of the women sees you to the door. Unlatching it and thanking you for the gift, the woman half smiles once more. As you return the kindness and the door swings to, you swear you can hear a faint sound from inside the house. A screaming sound.