The building has been abandoned for some time. Paint peeled off from the outside due to weathering and lack of care. The windows and door on the front of the house was bordered up, but even the wood blocking intruders had rotted out and started to fall down. There was a hole in the roof to the left side, no one knew if it collapsed or if a kid threw something at it. Frankly, no one really cared.
The area surrounding the house looked no better. There was nothing on either side of the structure; an acre of land separated it from the other, inhabited, homes. No one wanted to be directly next to it. The rumors of the place was enough to keep everyone away; even the mischievous children wanting to see if the stories were true. If the ghastly black witch was real, they didn’t want to get boiled into her stew. Especially with all the sightings lately, it wasn’t worth getting cooked.
The grass grew wildly around the house, making a miniature safari. Maybe the witch kept her demonic pets hiding, waiting to strike any intruders. Others say that the grass hides a secret trap door. If you fall into it, it drops you right into a cauldron. A quick and easy meal.
There was only one-way into the witches den; though the back door. The boards had been peeled off, though the crooked rotting door offered no protection. It couldn’t even close all the way. The boards on the back windows were taken off too, though all were broken. Who ever stayed inside had put up moth-bitten sheets in an attempt to block out some of the wind, and for some privacy. Though no one dare venture into the back of the house. Everyone knew that’s where the witch did her rituals.
The people of the town would be disappointed to know that no witch lived in the abandoned house on Price Road. Someone did call the place home, in fact, multiple people called it home. They all could easily be mistaken for witches. The rumors said that the witch could change its form. Some say they saw a man in tattered white robes, others say it’s a man in red with piercing blue eyes, but usually it’s a women in all black.
Whoever was seen, they all had a similar look. One described the witch as being nothing but bones. That was close to the truth, as they all looked like the living dead. Some thought the witch lived underground, and that’s why she was always caked in dirt. It was really because the house had no running water, there was no place to get clean. It also explains the strange stench that lingered around the property. They say that the black witch sneaks around at night to get ingredients for spells. A strange twist of the truth. The women did run out at night to get what she needed, but it was far from making a spell.
The furnishings looked nothing like one would picture for a witches den. The walls, which the paint had long since peeled off, were decorated in holes. There were no skulls, no bats, and no children chained in cages. There was no furniture save for the pile of rags the residents called a bed. The floor had caved in underneath the hole in the roof and the walls around the opening were all water damaged. It looked like if someone poked them they would crumble. The house had been pillaged of all its valuables. Doorknobs were ripped off; the kitchen sink was torn out. The toilet was even stolen from the bathroom. The desolation of this hallow home was only matched by its gaunt inhabitants.
Huddled together on the blankets were two of the three. With each breath a small cloud of white escaped their lips. The duo was entangled around each other, one man and the witch. Every few moments she would tremble and whine, then roll over. She couldn’t get comfortable. Her minion did his best to help, though he wasn’t in a much better condition.
“Where is he?” The women moved her lips, but wasn’t sure if she made a sound.
“He should have been back by now,” the man said desperately, though it reassured the witch that she did, in fact, speak.
“Do you think he got caught?”
“I think the bastard ran.”
“Fuck. Fuck!” The women started to shake. She curled herself up into the fetal position and let out a long, drawn out cry. The man did his best to comfort her, wrapping his arm around her waist and whispering calming words into her ear. But this didn’t work and she weakly pushed him off. The witch pulled herself to her feet, stumbling backwards and almost falling back onto the dirt covered floor.
“I can’t do this anymore!” She wailed, loud enough for the passing children on the street to hear. They shrieked and ran, thinking the witch was coming for them. “I can’t! I fucking can’t!”
“Calm down!” The man was standing now. He approached the women with open arms, trying to sooth her anxiety.
“No! How can you say that?” Her voice rose in volume and pitch. “He left us! He took our money and left us! We’re fucked! We have nothing now!”
“No we can’t! I can’t!” The women grabbed at her chest and started to gasp. “I…I…” She trembled again as she was overcome with need for something she just couldn’t acquire. She really couldn’t go on, her body had finally given up.
The wicked black witch fell to the floor, and all of Price Road was quiet.
