The Witch of the Woods

On a bitter and cold winter evening in a remote village in the mountains, a young couple readied their herd for the night. The shed latch clicked into place in the dark, and the husband and wife returned together to their dilapidated home on the edge of the woods. As they drew nearer, they could hear their children chattering, their grandmother getting them ready for bed.

Within the ramshackle cottage the elderly grandmother stood watching her grandchildren as they scrambled and chattered their way around the room. Their small home comprised one room, kitchen, living space and bedroom; with a hay loft space where the parents slept. The woman smiled as she watched her eldest granddaughter rummaging through a bundle of clothes at the end of the bed. “Fran, have you brushed your teeth my dear?”

“But Grand-Mama! I don’t want to! I don’t like the taste!” The little girl moaned. “I just want to go to bed.” Her eldest grandson turned from washing his face in a bucket by the fireplace. “If Fran isn’t doing it, then I’m not!” he chimed, stumbling a little as his younger sister pushed in to place in front of the bucket. Her nightgown sleeve dipped into the bucket as she washed her face, causing her to grumble.  A sigh slipped past the grandmother’s lips as she turned and caught hold of the wrist of the youngest child. “Come now Jimmy, there are no biscuits in there for you my pet.” She lead him away from the side. “You must all behave or the Witch of the Woods will come and make you into her youth soup.” she told them as she shuffled to seat herself in a rocking chair by the fire. 

Jimmy followed his grandmother and knelt on the rug, joined by his curious siblings. “Who’s the Witch of the Woods Grand-Mama?” Their grandmother looked over their bright little faces and smiled at them. “Shall I tell you the story of Morgana Witch of the Woods? Or would you rather go to bed?” They all shook their heads, adjusting to sit on the rug to listen.  “If I tell you, will you behave and brush your teeth?” she asked them, evoking nods from the children. “All right then! Where shall I begin?” she asked herself, settling in to begin her tale. 

As she began to speak the young couple entered, smiling to see the scene before them. Going about their bedtime routine, they left the young woman’s mother to tell her tale. The adults climbed the ladder to their small bed and huddled down under the blankets to listen as they drifted to sleep. 

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Your Grand-Mama was young once and a naughty little girl I was. I would help my mother only if I wanted and often disobeyed my father. One winter I had been in a good mood and so had helped my mother bake pies. When my father entered our small home, he asked for my help with putting the chickens to bed. Being a naughty little girl, I refused to help my father and fled his annoyance by running towards the woods. I ran and ran until I reached a small clearing. Sitting by the clear pond in the frosty moonlight, I whiled away the evening playing with the rabbits and the fish. It must have been hours as I was feeling sleepy when I heard a rustle to my left. There stood an elderly crone of a woman, hunched at the shoulders and supported by an oversized wooden walking stick. She hobbled forward a step, a long blue robe swishing around her as she moved toward me. “Hello Deary. What are you doing in the woods all alone at this time of night?” she croaked, dull green eyes taking in my shivering state. 

For a moment I could not speak, my mouth opening and closing. When I spoke it was a squeak. “I’m not alone. I have the animals with me.” The old crone chuckled, hobbling forward a few more steps and stooping to pick mushrooms from beside a log that separated us from each other. “Ah, I see so you have. I know, would you and your animal friends like to join me in my warm cottage? I have cocoa and cookies, if you are hungry.” She watched me with careful eyes and I returned her gaze. I thought about it but my cold and hungry body took over. “I don’t think the animals will join us, but I would like some cocoa… please.” A gnarled hand motioned to the gap in the trees where she had entered the clearing. Turning she exited the clearing ahead of me.

I followed her as she traversed the well-worn path, the only light coming from another clearing just ahead of them. When we arrived in the small clearing, I was shivering with the cold of the night and happy to see the tiny cottage that sat in front of us. The old crone made her way through a gate into a well-tended vegetable garden and on to the sturdy wooden front door. Pushing inside, she paused and looked back at me as I hurried to join her in the warmth of the building. “Come along my pet. Wouldn’t want you to catch your death.” she intoned as I followed her into the semi-darkness, a fire burning low in the hearth. Closing the door to behind me, I scurried forward to kneel by the fire and warm my hands. Looking around myself I could see that there was just one room to the cottage.. My eyes glanced over a table to the left of the front door, it looked to hold bowls of ingredients and bottles of indistinguishable liquid. A curtain was pulled across in front of the table and the old crone smiled down upon me, a large mug in her other hand. “Here you go Deary. This will warm your toes.”  I knelt up and took the mug from her, sipping the steaming liquid within as I watched her move to pick up a plate of cookies from another table. The old crone settled into the chair that sat by the fire and held out the plate. “Cookie?” she offered and I grabbed one from the plate and nibbled on the edge. 

We sat like this for a while; me sipping the cocoa and the old crone watching me. Still nibbling on the cookie, I looked up to her surprised by what appeared to be a change in her appearance. Her once wrinkled features looked to have smoothed over a little and those dull green eyes now sparkled with excitement. I frowned as I took this in, setting the mug down on the hearth as I did so. The clear change in her appearance made me uncomfortable, along with the light-headedness affecting me. Staring at the cookie for a long moment, I dropped it to the rug. “Oh! I’m sorry.” I mumbled as I began to rise from my knees. “I am very tired now, I must go home.” Fumbling to my feet, I was halted in my attempt to leave by a youthful hand curling around my forearm. “But Deary, you must stay and sleep here. It is far too cold to be out in the woods now.” she soothed, her voice as smooth as melted chocolate.  My head jerked up, staring into her eyes, mine sparkling with fear. “No! No! I must go home.” I insisted, tugging my arm away from her. It was as if every fibre in my body realised the danger I was in and took flight. I was running the short distance to the door in seconds, her hands clawing along the back of my dress as I yanked open the door and flew out into the night. Maybe her transformation had not completed or maybe she had misinterpreted how fast I could run; but the woman could not keep up with me. As I flew through the trees I could hear her voice following me, “Don’t go! You have such perfect little teeth!” I ran on and past the clearing heading toward my home on the edge of our village. 

Crashing out of the trees I stumbled onto one knee and struggled to push myself back to my feet. Whatever she had given me  made me very drowsy. Slowing some as I came to my home, I was unsure of how my parents would react to my return. The door opened as I came through the gate and my mother came running at me, bundling me into her arms and leading me into the safety of our home. My father sat by the fire wringing his hands, rising to aid my mother in bringing me to the opposite chair. “Mora sweetheart, we are so glad you are home. I looked for you for hours. Where have you been?” My father had never shown such concern before, the shame it evoked in me was more than I thought I could feel. “I’m sorry, Papa. I should never have misbehaved. I will never be naughty again.” My mother brushed my hair from my forehead feeling how clammy I was. She glimpsed my forearm and gasped, lifting it to show my father. There on my forearm were long scratches where the woman in the woods had dragged her nails in my escape.

“Oh, my sweet Mora.” My father sighed in fear. “You have met the Witch of the Woods tonight I see. You are a lucky girl to be home. Legend states that she takes the teeth and toes of those naughty children she meets in those woods.” My mother and I drew breath in unison, “I promise I will never be naughty again.” I enthused, breaking into a yawn as I did. My father smiled gently at me and brushed my hair from my eyes. “I know you will. Now go with your mother and get to bed. It has been a long night for you.” Hugging my father goodnight, I moved with my mother to bed. She kissed me on the forehead and tucked me in as I drifted into a restless sleep. Flashes of the Witch in the Woods in my dreams.

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Davey scowled at his grandmother as she finished her tale. “Grand-Mama that’s just a story?!” The other three grandchildren looked from Davey to their grandmother, watching as she smiled in response. “You don’t have to believe your old grand-mama children. But will you please get ready for bed now?” The children paused for a moment to think on this answer, all scrabbling to the water bucket together. Their grandmother rose from her chair by the fire to tuck them in and kissed them each on the head once they had scrambled their way into their beds.. “Don’t worry children. If you behave, you will never have to meet the Witch in the Woods. Now, don’t let it worry you and get to sleep.” The children all mumbled their goodnights and snuggled down under the mass of blankets.

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The elderly woman made her way across the small space to the opposite corner of the cottage. She stepped around the screen that shielded her bed area from the rest of the room and went about readying herself for sleep. Settling herself back against the pillows she leant over the side of her bed and pulled a well-loved photo album from beneath the head of the bed. Gnarled fingers brushed her long silver hair from her eyes as she rested the album on her lap and opened to look through the pages. The images of her and her mother and father warmed her old heart as she flipped through them. It did not take her long to reach the final photo within the book, dull green eyes looking over the cursive writing so familiar to her. 

‘My sweet child Morgana, remember I love you. Always make sure you behave my lucky girl. Love always, Father.’