The House of Deadly Treats

I sat waiting for my turn to speak, my palms sweaty and leg bouncing slightly. Baba convinced me that this meeting would be good for me, that it would help me to move past the absolute horror that had befallen me at the hands of hate; but, I had my doubts. After all, how on earth could any of these other women possibly understand what it was like to bear witness to the greatest enemy of us all?

Everyone began clapping, signaling that the young lass before me had finally finished droning about her neighbor and their distaste for all things “supernatural”. I lost count of how many times I rolled my eyes (inside my head of course, I’m not that cruel). I mean, it’s not like we don’t all go through persecution at one point or another. The fact that her neighbor doesn’t get violent is remarkable, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be complaining. But alas, this group is for everyone, and so I sit here, waiting, listening to other people’s problems. 

“Rosina,” the petite woman dressed in all black with tiny spectacles perched on the end of her slightly skewed nose started, “Would you like to share?”

I took a deep breath, unsure of what was expected of me here. After all, it was my first meeting, and weren’t you supposed to take it slow? Not put all your cards on the table? It’s not like any of these witches knew who I was; but judging by the looks on their faces when my name was called aloud, I could guess that many did know me. 

“Sure,” I said, calming my nerves. “Where should I start?”

The woman gave me a small smile, revealing blackened teeth that complimented her pale olive skin. “From the beginning, my pretty.”

Growing up, I lived in a small cottage with my mother and three older sisters. My father was killed when I was just 2, so I don’t really remember him, but my mother kept photos and told stories often. When I was 5, a group of villagers found our small cottage, and drug my two middle sisters into town. Apparently, a local boy had saw them practicing by the river. They were drowned in the middle of town, and though I was made to stay at the cottage, my mother and oldest sister went and tried to stop them. They burned my mother at the stake, but my oldest sister escaped. She came back for me and we fled deeper into the woods, away from all civilization. Up until that point, we had had a pretty good life, but slowly, life became much more…harsh. Even with our magic, we still didn’t know enough to fend for ourselves the way my mother had. We faced harsh winters with very little food, and my sister had to kill a few hunters that strayed too close to our abode. She never let me help, but I could hear their screams from inside the cottage,”

“You must have been terrified,” a young girl next to me said. 

I shrugged. “Better them than me,” I said, and I meant it. 

“For many years it was just me and my sister, us against the world, or what we knew of it. We fought and bickered just like sisters do, but we also helped each other, and our magic grew stronger each day. Unfortunately, so did the humans ignorance and weaponry. We had heard the rumors about a few witch hunters who were taking the craft world by storm, but nothing substantial. We thought we were safe.”

I took a breath. The leader nodded for me to continue.

“One evening, a few days past my formal initiation, I heard rustling outside my bedroom window. There I saw a man, maybe 20 years old, so just a couple of years older than me, stalking a deer through the forest. The sun was hung low in the sky, and the way the light reflected off of his crimson hair had my breath caught in my throat. Though I hadn’t seen many men in my few years of womanhood, I knew that there was something…special, about him. I watched him as he maneuvered expertly through the underbrush, and just before he shot, I shooed the deer away with my magic. He must’ve felt it though, because he turned towards me and we locked eyes. I was scared, but somehow comforted by his gaze, as if the whole world had stopped spinning. He left without so much as a word.”

“My sister fretted over the next few days, securing wards around the house, and chastising me for being so careless, but all I could think about was this mystery man. Who was he? Why didn’t he try and harm me? Was he going to come back? The last question of course was what had my sister in a tizzy. After all, he probably had friends, and they could come back and kill us. But day after day passed, and nothing ever came of it. Eventually, my sister relaxed, and we went back to life as normal. He crossed my mind less and less frequently.”

Nothing happened through the dead of winter, but when spring came around, my sister decided that we needed to make a trip into town. Neither of us had been there since that fateful, hateful night when we lost the rest of our family, but winter had been hard, and we needed seeds. Magic can help things grow, but as you all know, we can’t create something from nothing.”

A few of the attendants nodded in agreement. I continued on, the story flowing effortlessly, despite my earlier anxiety. 

“We donned our cloaks and traveled by foot into town. It took us a day and half to make the trip, so when we arrived, we were tired and sore. Most of the town folks we passed gave us the side eye, but it appeared that none of them were the wiser to our craft. We meandered through Main Street, eyeing all the goodies and trinkets that the various vendors had for sale. For a moment, I found peace and happiness amongst the people of the town that just 13 years earlier. Though the thought still sickened me to my core, I found myself wishing to be around others for the first time in my life. 

I was talking to a lovely woman who carved tiny wooden figures, having just purchased a small raven carving, when I felt him. My eyes snapped up, and I looked around me, until ours eyes locked once more. My breath hitched in my throat again, and I could feel his eyes boring straight into my damned soul. My sister approached me, saying something about food, when she saw where I was looking. She gasped loudly, enough to gain an inquisitive glance from the woodcarver, and pulled me away by my arm. We immediately made our way back to the woods, my sister taking extra precautions to cover our tracks. I think she said “shit” about 300 times between our departure and our arrival at our campsite.”

A couple of the women snickered, and even I smiled a bit. My sister had been right, though, and my smile fell flat immediately as I continued on. 

“That night, she decided to take first watch. I hugged her goodnight, and apologized for being reckless. She told me she loved me, and that was the last time I ever spoke to my sister. When I awoke the next morning, my sister was nowhere to be found. Assuming she had simply wondered off for a bit, I waited. An hour passed, and then two, and when she still hadn’t returned, I set off back to our cottage.”

I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to drown me. Part of me was hoping I would find her there, but most of me knew that she would be gone. 

“Upon arrival to our cottage,” I recounted, deep in thought, “I found that the door had been ripped off its hinges. I cast out my senses, attempting to see if there was anyone else nearby, but I couldn’t focus, I was too damn worried. I made my way into the cabin, where I found our sweet home had be ransacked, destroyed.” I looked at my hands, this time the tears falling freely. “I began crying, unable to control my emotions, and that’s where everything went wrong.” My throat felt dry and achy now, my tongue like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. 

“I heard shouting outside, and knew immediately it was my sister’s. I rushed outside, without thinking, ignoring the voice inside my head that was screaming danger.” I eyed the scars that covered the backs of my hands, the skin wrinkled and ugly. “The man I had such an odd connection with had my sister by her hair, and she knelt in front of him and 3 other men. I’ll never forget her face that night, the anguish and despair, the blood and bruises.” Tears rolled down my cheeks now, my voice became thick as syrup. 

“I screamed for them to let her go, to take me instead. But the man only looked at me, the most evil, malicious look that sent chills down to my very core, and cooly told me that not only would he kill her, he would make me watch, and then kill me, too.” The women in the room were gawking, some shedding tears of their own. I couldn’t meet their eyes, or else I risked coming completely undone. 

“I made a move to stop him, to do something, but he pulled a knife from the sheath at his side and held it to my sisters neck. He tsked at me, much like my mother did when we were children, then nodded my direction. The others must’ve taken that as their cue to apprehend me, for they started creeping towards me, knives in hand. It was then I realized that they were scared of us, sacred of me. So, I decided to use that to my advantage.” 

“I bolted into the house, slamming the door behind me, earning some shouts of surprise, and arising anger in the man who had my sister. I could hear the men approaching outside, surrounding the cottage, and I knew I didn’t have long before they made their way inside. I felt completely hopeless.” The tears had stopped momentarily, but my throat felt raw. I hadn’t talked this much since before they took everything from me, and it was taking a toll. But I wasn’t going to stop now.

“The men pounded on the sides of the cottage and at the doors. Then they stopped, and I heard what I assume was my sister being dragged towards our home. I dared look through the window, and saw the man stop with my sister about 15 feet away. The man grinned at me again, flashing his smile that had once intoxicated me. My sister’s eyes met mine, and within them I could see the pleading for me to run, to make it out alive no matter what. I’ll never forget the feeling of dread that threatened to suffocate me right there as I watched on, as I watched the man take the knife and slit my sisters throat, then throw her to the ground as if she was nothing more than livestock.” I expected to cry, expected to be wailing, but all I felt was numbness, and cold, hard rage. 

“He wiped his knife on the back of her dress, cleaning her blood from it, before putting it back in the sheath. Then he spoke to me: ‘Oh Rosina, your whole family has died because of you. I think that killing you now would be doing you a favor, so I’m going to let you live. But know this: if you ever step foot back into my town, or if I ever catch sight of you or your kind again, I will burn you all to the ground. Be careful, little witch, don’t forget my warning.’ And then he left. As soon as I thought it was clear, I rushed out to my sisters body, but she was already cold and clammy. I knew it was too late.” 

“I buried her outback, next to her favorite tree. It took me hours of digging, especially since every twig snap had me running inside and slamming the door, petrified that the men would return. They never did, though.” I took a deep breath, preparing for the next part of my story, the ugly part. 

“I spent the next 3 years in silence, rage and hatred the only thing fueling my body, forcing me to not give up. Every time I looked at my sister’s grave, the resentment only grew, until one day I noticed that everything around my cottage was dying. Death and decay surrounded me, and I knew that I was the cause of it. I felt bad initially, as it wasn’t what my sister would have wanted. But then again, my sister didn’t want to die, either.”

“I then got an idea, a perfect plan to enable to revenge on the men who had ruined my life, and taken the lives of so many others. I was to be their reckoning. But I couldn’t simply walk into town and start killing, no, that wouldn’t do.”

“I snuck around the outskirts of town under cover, watching the townspeople who were too wrapped up in their daily lives to notice. First it was one child, then two. You could see the parents holding onto their children a little tighter as the wandered through town, could see the anxiety in their eyes as they tried to figure out where the missing children had gone. I knew it was only a matter of time before mass hysteria kicked in, so I needed to work smart to find the man’s children, the one who took my sister’s life.” 

“I let things die down, then went back to surveillance, watching and waiting, until one day, Lady Luck was on my side. I watched the chubby little boy and gangly girl follow behind their father, my rage palpable in the air around me. I wanted to strike then, let the children watch as I tore their father to pieces with my bare hands, but I wanted HIM to suffer, not the children.”

“I found that the children, particularly the boy, loved sweets and treats, and I used that love of all things baked to lure them into the forest. I could hear them coming, making their way to my house, their little noses in the air following the delicious scent of tasty treats.” At last, they knocked the door, and I greeted them with a smile on my face.” I didn’t dare glance around, afraid to see the judgement in my fellow witches eyes.

“I led them inside where I had a table full of goodies. A few of them had numbing agent inside of them, something that would alleviate all pain they felt. I didn’t want them to suffer, but my anger pushed me forward. Once the children fell asleep, I tied them up and placed them inside the oven. I was going to bake them alive, and leave them for their father to find. I wrote the note I planned to leave, and turned the oven on high.” 

“I watched as the oven heated, and their clothes started to smoke. Then I heard my sister’s voice, crystal clear inside my head. She told me that what I was doing was wrong, that this isn’t what she wanted. I fought against her at first, ignoring the voice, but she only grew louder, more furious with me.”

“I clicked off the oven and removed the children. They had some burns, but they were otherwise unharmed. I went to the cellar to get the other children, the ones I had taken before. I was going to let them all go.”

“But when I arrived upstairs, I found my door kicked in, and the man, wild eyed and insane, with an axe in his hands.”

“He attacked me, and though I fended him off as best I could, he ultimately overpowered me. He knocked me out, and left me laying the floor. But before he took his children and left, he turned the oven on high, and threw some straw inside.”

“I awoke on fire, the pain so intense I couldn’t even scream. I managed to crawl outside and roll around, eventually putting out the flames. I laid and watched my cottage go up in flames, the tree out back where my sister was buried burned brightly, as if she was awakening within the fire. And then, a gift from the heavens, the sky clouded over and the rain came.”

“I don’t know how long I laid there, as I drifted in and out from the pain and pure exhaustion. But when I did finally awake, the sky blue and birds flitting overhead, I walked out of those woods, away from town, and never looked back.”

I stopped talking, waiting for outrage and harsh words from anyone who had just listened to my terrible tale. But none came. 

“Thank you for sharing your story, Rosina” the leader said, her eyes glistening. “I know that was very difficult, but we appreciate your honesty. Your story is a reminder that anger and hate only breed more anger and hate, and that we should all remember to find love and kindness, even in our darkest times.” 

I nodded, took a deep breath, and listened to the next woman begin her tale, aware that I could finally let go.