THE WITCH

 

THE WITCH

III

The dark forest pulsed with irreparable life. Insects buzzed and hummed; the crawling animals crept within the deep carcasses of the soil that the great witches worshipped. The soil on which Clarice walked on seemed to swallow her alive like a hungry mammoth.

She had not eaten or slept for days and her provisions would only last a couple of days old.

What would she do?

She would not go back to Bravos to live her life as a lie. She knew what she was and a maiden of the honorable knights she was not. Sweat trickled her face like fountain her breathing steady and low as she watched one of Bravo’s knights lurking aimlessly.

Quickly she hid from his searches behind a thick bush.

She waited and timed him until he was isolated from the rest of the search party. She would not risk being found not now not ever…She lunged steadfast towards his back with great stamina and stabbed the young knight in the back.

He did not scream nor yell. There Clarice stood over the dead body with disdain like a mad man. She was in utter shock and dropped the knife she had stole from the kitchen back at the castle. Her garments turned bloody red and crimson, wiping frantically her white gown with her bloodied hands.

Filled with blood lust she pounced on her second victim with great might biting his neck until he bled out. There, spitting out his chunks of human meat like a rabid dog. She howled into the gleaming moon like a mad dog.

Deep within the crevices was a witch waiting for Clarice von Dyke to decide her fate. She would sense her arrival for months and now every step she drew closer became a milestone. Leading right to her.

For a millennium the regalia of the witch lived in harmony until now…people that wandered into the dark forest were found dead days later at the edge of the forest like some sort of diabolical ceremony that was the nature of the dark forest.

Hungry hounds hunted her like the vermin she reduced herself too. Bravos her dear husband lead a search party everyday his wife went missing but could not would not spend time in the dark forest past the sojourning hours for the dark forest turned into a place of darkness an in despicable evil.

Children would often play past dark only to be found dead within the river a couple of days later. They say witches would lurk around this dark forest but Clarice dismissed the idea that a secret cult would live in such a place, the dark forest was a harsh enough place even for her.

As she slept in great slumber she fell into a deep sleep, laid on a small straw like carpet that she had woven through the knowledge of her sewing classes back at the castle.

There in her dream was a witch wearing a red cape her face pale as the moon, her hands covered in blood holding what seemed to be a deceased infant. There next to her was a worn-out cabin filled with lilies and crawling plants.

Her dream was so vivid she jolted in surprise as she woke. It was just a dream… or was it? The cabin looked familiar as age. Puzzled she continued her journey through the deep forest. She wondered aimlessly like a burned-out vagabond, searching for meaning, life and hope.

For everything was lost. She would not go back to Bravos and his impunity. All that remained was herself and her wit. Until she came across something familiar, something strange, the cabin in her dreams covered in moss and a chimney atop it that stretched to the canopies of the woods.

She knocked heartily at the entrance.

The door slowly creaked open to her surprise. It looked abandoned and desolate as if in a half-remembered dream. Life was slow here and motionless. Old furniture was strewn across the living room, ancient and decayed.

The fireplace surprisingly was crackling with life, wood burned radiantly giving birth to a small enough fire to keep her hands warm and her body to normal temperature. She found an old shoal and wrapped herself with it, for the place was quite chilly.

She lit a few candles that glowed with radiance lighting the room. Books were seen at the corner of her eye; some were so old that mold could be seen under the candle light. She stood grotesque like an old statue and reached for one of the wise books.

Some were written in an old language that she could not decipher or understand filled with ghastly runes and symbols. Pictures of dead old bodies that were appalling. Stories of vampires and werewolves were seen here in these ancient texts like an old ohmage of worship.

“You shouldn’t be here…” hissed a woman. Startled, Clarice looked up and saw a beautiful young woman skin as pale as the moon itself.

She wore the same red cape she saw in her dreams. The woman with the deceased infant on her hands clutching at the small babe as if clutching for her dear life. Her face was pale and ruddy. She walked swiftly as if floating through air.

Shocked, Clarice closed the mystic book and handed it to her with reverence.

“I am sorry to intrude…I didn’t mean to- “she said apologetically.

“Do not be afraid” she cut her short her voice cutting deep like steel.

“I have been waiting for you…We have been waiting for you. The prophecy is being fulfilled as we speak” the mysterious lady said with conviction.

“What prophecy?” she asked inquisitively.

“You will know in time my queen” she said bowing down as if worshipping her very feet.

Clarice’s body turned pale. Filled with questions that ringed in her head like a church bell.

What did she get herself into?

What prophecy?

Who would save her?