Forest Witch

You sit in the long grass of the field next to your childhood school. Often used for outside sports, like running and rounders, today it is empty. The breeze is gentle though the April sun is not yet warm enough to stop the goosebumps crawling across your shoulders and down your arms. You shiver, but keep your eyes on the forest tree line fifty yards away.

The school bell rings behind the wall of trees and shrubbery to your left, signalling the end of the day. You haven’t attended that school for nineteen years, but hearing the bell makes it feel like yesterday. Then, as the roar of children’s voices and laughter erupts from an open door, you see it. The orange orb of light you have been waiting for.

You and your best friend first saw the light when you were younger, around nine years old, during a game of rounders. You were both fielders and had taken the opportunity of being away from everyone else to stand together and talk. The ball had gone over your heads and landed not far behind you. As you both turned to pick it up, your best friend noticed the light and pointed it out.

At the time you thought nothing of it, but the next day at lunch, a couple of your other friends also talked about seeing the light. You all came up with theories as to what it could be; from childish fantasy of fairies or elves to more realistic options, like the sunlight reflecting on something beyond the trees. That last suggestion never sat right with you. The light was too consistent, like a lamp of some kind, rather than the erratic glint of reflected light. Eventually, though, the novel intrigue of the light wore off and the minds of children, which are so easily distracted, soon forgot all about it. That is until your best friend went missing.

The police and your best friend’s parents questioned you and the other children. They said your best friend had mentioned seeing the light in the forest for several days before they went missing. You all corroborate this story, and a three-day search of the forest followed. Your best friend was never found, and the light had notbeen seen again. Until now.

As time went on after your best friend’s disappearance, everyone forgot about the light’s existence. But not you. The whole thing was unnerving and you couldn’t – wouldn’t – move on. You spent years researching missing children cases in the area that mentioned a light in the woods and noticed a trend – one case every 19 years.

You bided your time. Lived your life. Grieved the loss of your best friend. But now you had the chance to find out the truth. You stand up and walk towards the trees. The light remains steadfast, glowing bold and bright. You feel like a moth heading to the flame of danger, but the burning desire for answers has hardened your resolve beyond fear. You have to – no, need to – know what happened.

The moment your foot touches the forest floor, the air becomes thick, the sky darkens, and all sounds quieten. Hanging from a large branch on the nearest tree ahead of you is a bulky, plain iron lantern. A singular large gas flame burns within it. Except for the shadows writhing in the light, no one else seems to be around. Your breath clouds in little puffs and goosebumps pinch your skin like a thousand fingers. A human-like humming fills the silence. Every bone in your body aches.

You turn around to leave, but find the way blocked by thick thorned stems that twist and turn like giant writhing snakes. The humming stops and then you hear a sound that’s been hidden from you for almost two decades. The voice of your best friend calling your name. But it sounds exactly as it did all those years ago when you were children. Age has not changed it like it has yours. A cold grasp on your arm pulls you around to face the being behind you.

Expecting to see the ghost of your childhood best friend, you are instead confronted with a creature trying to resemble an old woman. Except the back is too hunched almost like a dorsal fin, and the limbs are as gnarled and knobbly as the tree branches knitted above you. The creature’s eyes are black and empty and its smile is lopsided. It opens its mouth wide and the voice of your best friend calls out to you. Like a gramophone playing a record. Cold sweat clings to your face and your chest feels tight. You have nowhere to run. But, you are also not a child anymore. Perhaps, since you are an adult, the creature will realise its mistake and let you go …

It’s grip on your arm continues to constrict until a hidden stinger penetrates your skin. You cry out at the prickling pain that rips and pulsates through your flesh. The world grows taller, and the creature looks down at you. Your body is shrinking to the height you were when you were nine years old. A child-sized meal for a hungry witch.