The Wicked Witch

Walking long the dark highway on Halloween night, was frightening, but because I already knew the road, I continued on. Soon, I came to a house that I had never seen before. The house was very eerie looking. Huge elm trees surrounded the house on each side. The house was dull and dingy.

“That house wasn’t here this morning,” I said to myself. “Maybe somebody new has moved into the area.”

I went up to the door of the house. The huge elm trees blew in the wind. I knocked on the door, but no-one seemed to be home. I started walking down the driveway.

“Hold on there,” I heard a voice say behind me. “Where are you going?”

I turned around and there before me stood the most repulsive looking person that I have ever seen. She had a long crooked nose and long stringy hair. She had to have been at least ninety years old.

“She looks like a witch,” I said to myself and then to the woman, I said, “I didn’t notice this house here this morning. Are you new here?”

“Who me!” the old woman chattered. “Why, I’ve been here for years!”

“That is impossible,” I said. “I have walked this road many times and I know that this house has not been here up until now.”

“I hate to argue with you dear,” the woman said. “But I have been here for years.”

“Oh well,” I said, not wanting to cause any trouble. “Maybe I am mistaken. Maybe I just haven’t noticed it.”

“Yes dear,” the woman said. “That must be what it is. Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

“I really must be going,” I said, a little frightened at spending too much time with this woman.

“Oh dear,” the woman said. “I haven’t had any company in such a long time. It would mean so much to me.”

“Alright,” I relented. “Just one cup.”

I walked into the house and I could smell something very dead. The house reeked.

“Oh,” the woman said, probably noticing that I was holding my nose. “Don’t worry about that dreadful smell. It is just a concoction that I am working on. I am trying out a new recipe. Here have a taste.”

The woman dipped a wooden spoon into the smelly mixture that was bubbling away on the top of her woodstove. I, trying to be polite, took a sip.

“You know,” I said. “Once you past the smell, that stuff tastes pretty good.”

“Yes it does,” the woman said.

I smiled.

“Now why would you go and do something like that?” the woman snapped.

“What?” I asked, surprised at her sudden outburst. “I always smile.”

“Smiles destroy,” the woman said. “Anyone that smiles will not smile forever.”

“Pardon me,” I said, now becoming very angry and also believing that this woman was a witch. “All I did was smile.”

“Do you do that often?” the woman asked.

“Do what!” I screamed.

“Smile,” the woman said.

“Yes,” I said. “I am usually a very happy person. When I am happy, I smile.”

I was getting a very weird sensation at the pit of my stomach. I rose from the chair where I was sitting and started toward the door. I felt weak.

“There must be something in that concoction of hers that is making me feel weak,” I said to myself.

“You will not be going anywhere, dear,” the woman screeched. “Not until I wipe the smile from your face.”

“What have you got against smiles?” I asked.

“Witches don’t like smiles on Halloween night,” the woman said.

I was right. This woman really was a wicked witch. Before I could do anything, she cast an evil spell on me.

“Hocus, pocus,” said the witch. “Each Halloween night, erase this persons smile tight.”

Soon, I felt stronger again. As soon as I was able to, I escaped from that house. I ran as fast as I could down the highway to where my house was. I pushed the heavy front door open and tripped into the living room. I lay on the carpet for a few moments. Suddenly, I sat upright where I was.

“I will not let some wicked witch ruin me,” I said aloud.

I searched through my house to find a mirror. I looked into the mirror and smiled. Nothing happened.

“See you old wicked witch,” I said aloud. “I smiled and nothing bad happened.”

I smiled again.

“You cannot destroy me,” I shouted.

What I didn’t realize was that every time I smiled, the wind outside blew harder and fiercer. Soon, the whole house shook from the force of the wind.

“See,” I heard the old wicked witch cackle. “I told you I would destroy you.”

I never smiled on Halloween anymore. People used to comment on it, but I never paid them much attention. For some strange reason, I felt much happier when I wasn’t smiling.


Moral of this Story:

  • Don’t trust a witch.
  • Example: The wicked witch used her powers to put a spell on me.

Further Reading

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