THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS WITCHES ??

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THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS WITCHES??


Do you believe in Witches?

I know a lot of folks don’t, all that hocus pocus Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble rubbish. But there must be something in all those tales about the so called daughters of Satan over the centuries, surely?

Well for all those cynics and sceptics among you out there, here’s a little tale about something that happened a long time ago. 

Two hundred years ago to be exact and whether you choose to believe in Witches or the craft they practise or not, at least have an open mind whilst I regale you with this tale.

*****

Somewhere in the south of England lies a little village called Blossom. Aptly named since every spring time the multitude of Apple trees that populate this village sprout in an explosion of little pink flowers.

Every autumn however the trees bear fruit and it’s at this time of year where we start the tale.

This was the year of our lord 1813 and the little village of Blossom went about its business much the same as any other day.

One single street ran through the village and encompassed eleven houses. Ten of the eleven detached houses faced each other, the end and eleventh house lay further away and was a little larger than the other ten.

The block of ten housed ordinary families who’s tenants were employed by the local Squire. 

Squire Lawton owned most of the land Blossom was built on including the ten tenanted houses and as a result the occupants of the ten houses were employed by the Squire and were required to work on the Squire’s nearby estate.

You noticed I said “ten” of the houses instead of the whole eleven?

We'll Squire Lawton had 'tried' to acquire the eleventh house but apparently on every occasion he’d tried to do so, strange things started to happen! 

Like for instance the solicitor employed by the squire to mitigate in the legal side of things just happened to drop dead, with a malady no physician could possibly explain.

The Squire once tried another track, one that involved sending someone to the house to persuade the occupant into selling up, Lawton “had” offered a reasonable price.

The messenger, shortly after returning became suddenly mentally unstable and was subsequently admitted to the nearest lunatic asylum.

His Lordship even tried to use force, though with most of the local militia involved with British forces fighting Old Boney, the Squire had resorted to rallying the folks up who were in his employ. 

However and even with the threat of eviction and dismissal, the good folk of Blossom solemnly declared they were having “nothing” to do with the house at the end of Orchard row.

With there being only ten houses on Orchard row all the local children knew one another and most of the kids that lived on Orchard row were usually found all playing in the surrounding apple trees or playing tag in around the street itself. 

In those days of course there were no such thing as automobiles so the street was a fairly safe place to enjoy, as a child I mean.

One kid in particular though didn’t associate himself with the other kids. 

Samuel Jenkins was I suppose considered a bit of a loner and as such would usually keep his distance from the other Orchard row kids.

On this particular day, 31st October 1813, something happened to Samuel that would change his life forever.

Sam as usual had wandered off on his own and was just in the progress of taking aim at a large tin can with his trusty slingshot when he heard a strange sound.

Jumping back out from behind the tree where he was hidden, Sam cocked an ear and again heard the same strange sound, it sounded like a cat meowing.

Sam intently listened again for the meowing and then following the sound, traced back about one hundred yards toward a large old oak tree.

The meowing was a lot clearer now and seemingly more urgent, looking up into the huge ancient branches Sam spotted the source of the meowing.

There, looking down at him was a very large Black Cat. 

In fact Sam hadn’t ever remembered seeing a cat as large and as Black as the one that was now staring down at him.

“Well Well Well Mr Puss,” said Sam craning his neck and looking up at the obviously distressed Cat, “seems you’ve got yourself in a spot of bother doesn’t it?”

The Black Cat meowed once and Sam had to wonder even at that stage if the Cat knew what he was actually saying.

Sam tried to think what to do, he couldn’t reach the Cat with anything from where he was, it was too far up, he could go for help, but his father was up at the estate working for the Squire and the other kids weren’t too friendly so he couldn’t go there either.

Wracking his brains Sam suddenly came up with a solution. Pointing up at the large Cat he shouted for it to stay where it was and wait for him to come back.

Sam had remembered seeing a large ladder propped up against one of the many Apple trees on his way into the forest and with it being just after harvest time, the ladder hadn’t yet been removed so was still left in place.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam after having dragged the large ladder along the ground then proceeded to hoist said ladder against the huge oak tree.

Amazingly all this time, the large Black Puss hadn’t made a single sound, indeed it had stretched itself out along the long branch it was on and was now watching the proceedings below.

Sam tried at first to encourage the Cat to come down on its own, firstly by getting the ladder as close as possible to it then gently rocking the ladder against the trunk of the tree. 

No go, the Cat just seemed to be totally disinterested and continued to wait and see what his would be rescuer would do next.

Sighing heavily, Sam concluded that the only course to take would be to ascend the ladder and retrieve Mr Puss that way.

Just as Sam had nearly reached the summit and was within almost arms reach of the branch, the most incredible thing happened.

The large Black Cat suddenly got up, yawned, stretched itself and then almost without even giving Sam a second look, Mr Puss suddenly launched himself down at the main trunk of the huge oak.

An incredulous Sam watched as the Cat, having attached itself to the bark of the tree then somehow swung itself around so it was now in a similar position to the one Sam was though he was on ladders and not affixed to the trunk of an oak tree.

As if that wasn’t incredible enough, a goggle eyed Sam watched as the large Cat descended down the trunk, using its claws as a sort of brake.

There was a soft thump as the big Cat landed at the bottom of the tree and then amazingly just sat down and looked upwards toward Sam as if to say what are you doing up there, I’m here?

Sam stayed affixed to the ladders for a little while, he was still trying to comprehend what he’d just seen. 

Slowly gathering his senses, Sam headed back down the ladders and toward the large Black Cat.

Just as Sam’s feet left the last rung of the ladder, Mr Puss stood up and with his tail flicking in an almost imperious way and glancing over its shoulder, the big Black Cat trooped off and into the forest.

A disbelieving Sam had already figured out that the big Moggie wanted him to follow it so follow it he did and it wasn’t until a little while later that Sam realised where they were going. 

Sam balked when he understood that the house now directly in front of them was “the house.”

The eleventh house, or more commonly known as the house at the end of the lane. Some whispered that a Witch lived here, or that the house was cursed, well whatever it was, Sam didn’t really want to go any further.

The Cat then did something even more bizarre than it had at the tree. 

Strutting back toward Sam, the big Cat stared directly up at him and meowed again, walking away a little bit the Cat paused and then meowed again.

Sighing again and with hands on hips, a disbelieving Sam said, “you want me to come into the house with you Mr Puss?”

The big Black Cat then meowing again proceeded to head up the garden path and nearer toward what appeared to be an “open” front door.

Still not sure, a hesitant Sam waited where he was for a few more moments. Suddenly Sam heard his new friend meowing again though this time it sounded more urgent then even when at the tree.

Instinctively rushing toward the door, Sam hadn’t actually realised he’d stepped into the house, that was until the front door slammed shut behind him and he heard a low throaty cackling sound coming from behind him.

“Gotcha!!”

Poor Sam was terrified, where the blazes had "she" come from?

“She” was a little old lady, dressed entirely in a black cloak, who was now moving steadily toward an absolutely petrified Sam Jenkins.

“who, who are you,” stuttered Sam?

The little old lady paused for a moment and then moving a little closer toward Sam she said. “Why, I’m the Witch, the evil old Witch that lives at the end of the lane boy, but surely you knew that anyway?”

Still out his mind with fear, Sam answered the black cloaked woman. “I err, I don’t believe in Witches, in fact Mother told me there’s no such thing.”

The black cloaked woman now stopped, cackled even louder, then after a few more moments, she edged over and closer toward Sam.

“Is that a fact boy,” the old woman lifted a gnarled old hand up toward Sam and said. “You shouldn’t always believe in what people tell you young man, in fact if I were to prove to you I actually 'am' a Witch would you do ME a favour in return?”

Without even thinking Sam nodded in reply, “are you certain?” Said the old woman, now only a matter of inches away from poor Sam’s face.

Sam nodded again, though if he’d known then what he was about to find out he surely wouldn’t have.

Backing off a little now, the old crone began to utter some strange words and then suddenly, there was a *FLASH* followed by a *BANG* and poor Sam nearly jumped out of his skin.! Whipping back the cloak from her head Sam Jenkins saw something that surely no human was ever meant to see.

Though the body was obviously of an old woman, the head was the head of a large Black Cat, the same Cat Sam had followed into the house! The head of the Cat now spoke, it was the voice of the old crone.

“Now do you believe in Witches young Samuel Jenkins?“ And the last thing Sam saw before he fainted was the huge Cat’s head cackling like a lunatic.

Sam awoke, he was still in the Witch’s house and the old crone was seated in an antique rocking chair just a few feet away from him.

She appeared to have changed back into human form, though Sam couldn’t really tell for sure, not whilst she or it was still wrapped inside that black cloak.

The rocking chair creaked and the old crone spoke. “Now I have kept my part of the bargain you must keep yours.”

Sam tried his best to jump up and run, but he couldn’t, it was as if some invisible bond had kept him secured and try as he might, Sam Jenkins was a prisoner of the whatever the heck it was in the rocking chair.

As if reading his mind the old crone spoke again, “you can only leave when I let you leave Sam, now listen carefully whilst I tell you what you need to do to keep your end of the bargain.

Tonight is All Hallows Eve and to appease my Master I have to sacrifice Seven Innocents,” at this point the chair creaked again as the old crone leaned over, “there are eight children live in this village including you Sam.”

She paused a second and then continued on, “bring the other Seven to me Sam, bring them here this night, this Samhain, this All Hallows Eve, bring the Seven Innocents to me and I will spare thee, dost thou understand Samuel Jenkins?”

Even though only 13 years old, Sam understood everything the old woman said and even if it meant agreeing to what it was she were proposing.

Suddenly Sam realised he could now move and the rocking chair creaked again as the old crone waved a craggy old arm toward the front door.

“Go young Samuel go do my bidding and remember,” at this point the cloaked woman leaned uncomfortably nearer to a still terrified Sam and again whispered. 

“Don’t think you can trick me young Sam Jenkins, don’t think you’ll be safe if you dare tell of “our” little arrangement.”

Pausing a little the old woman carried on “and just in case you have any ideas about crossing me young man, before you go, take a look at my little collection on the mantelpiece.”

Sam now standing, followed the old crone’s outstretched hand and though he really didn’t want to, Sam cautiously headed toward the mantelpiece that was situated directly above a huge open fireplace.

Sam didn’t notice them at first, but there seemed to be a set of small figurines, roughly about two inches in height. 

As Sam got closer he realised there were a dozen or so of these figurines and they appeared to be of people, dressed in all different kinds of garment.

For instance there was a farmer, holding a pitchfork over his shoulder, a soldier, holding a musket and as if he was standing to attention. 

There were others too, even what appeared to a female, dressed in the daintiest ballerina outfit and standing tippy toed, as delicate as a flower petal.

Sam could hear the old crone softly cackling behind him now and she suggested he take a closer look.

Sam went cold and he let out a small yelp, a bit like a puppy when it’s been accidentally trodden on, turning around now to face the old woman Sam cried.
“Are they,”

“Alive? Of course” and the old crone cackled again, “so you see what happens when someone crosses me young master Sam?”

Sam was out of his mind with fear and desperately wanted to leave that place and now! 

He got his wish, the front door flew open and Sam bolted through it, as fast a musket shot and that horrible cackling sound accompanied him with these words ringing in his ears. “Remember, there must be Seven, or you will pay young Master Samuel, oh “you will pay.”

Even though Sam was running for his life he still found time to glance back over his right shoulder and there, sitting on top of the gatepost of the end house was a large black Cat!

Samuel Jenkins hurtled into the house where he lived and dove under the first bed he could find and stayed there sobbing for what must have been a least an hour.

Slowly recovering, Sam finally ventured out just as his Mother and Father came walking through the front door.

Elisabeth Jenkins stared at her young son and asked what was the matter and even though he wasn’t supposed to, young Sam blurted out everything what had happened in the forest with the big Black Cat as well of course the strange goings on in the old woman’s cottage at the end of the lane.

Both Elisabeth and Samuel Senior just laughed it all off and gently scolded young Sam for having an over active imagination, though after young Sam had disappeared to wash his hands for supper, both Elisabeth and Sam senior exchanged rather worried looks with each other.

Sam having combed his thick black mop of hair and dressed as he always did for supper, in his best white breeches and brown leather jerkin, sat at the table with both his parents and as always thanked the Lord for what they were about to receive.

It goes without saying that on 'that' particular occasion the Lords prayer got said with a lot more gusto than normal by young Sam and he also made another prayer that night before he went to bed and “that” one was for his soul.

Just before young Master Sam closed his eyes to sleep on that night of All Hallows Eve in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and thirteen, a large Black Cat, silently and stealthily crept toward The Jenkins front gate, sat down and waited.

********

Two hundred years later, 31st October 2013


A large bulldozer crashed through the clearing and proceeded to move yet another huge pile of dead tree trunks.

Both occupants were employed by the Forestry Commission and both Bill Bateman and Jack Harper wanted to get this particular job out of the way as quickly as possible, there was a couple of pints in the local pub up the road with “both” their names on them.

Jack was suddenly tapped by his colleague Bill on the shoulder and he beckoned him to stop the Dozer. 

Jumping out of the cab Bill walked toward a thick clump of undergrowth directly in front of the Dozer's path and crouched down on one knee.

Turning around again to Jack, Bill made a slashing motion across his throat meaning switch the Dozer off completely.

Though not very happy, Jack complied and duly switched off the big diesel engine. 

“I hope this is worth it Bill, because there’s a pint waiting for me and you know what I’m like so near to drinking time.”

Even though it was still light, just about, Bill Bateman shone a high powered lamp into the dense undergrowth in front of them.

“Well well well, cried an incredulous Bill, “I bloody thought there was?”

“What is it,” muttered Jack who had now accompanied his colleague in the same crouching position.

“Here,” said Bill and handed Jack the lamp.

“Oh my God, cried Jack, “it’s a bloody house, well why's nobody at head office said anything about this this then?”

“Don’t know," answered Bill, “but we’ll have stop doing what we’re doing right away and report it in.” 

As Bill began to pull his mobile phone out of his high visibility jacket, Jack stopped him, “hang on a minute,” said Jack with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Wouldn’t do any harm to have a quick look see before the head office boys come stomping around all over the bleeding shop would it?”

“You’ve changed your sodding tune, laughed Bill Bateman, “what happened to beer lust?”

Jack laughingly answered by saying, “the pint can wait and anyway, that house has been there a bloody long time” and winking at this point Jack said, “you just never know what might be in there eh?”

About an hour later and a little help with some surgical precision work by the Dozer, both Bill Bateman ad Jack Harper had managed to clear a way in and were now standing inside the old house.

Bill shone his light all around the main area of the house and after a few moments spoke to his workmate Jack.

“Who do you think lived here then?”

“No idea,” answered Jack who was now starting to do a bit of exploring. 

Bill shone his light at the rather low ceiling and then down toward another door probably leading off into a scullery when he shouted Jack again.

“Have you noticed something?” Said Bill and after getting Jack’s attention he shone the light around in a three hundred degree arching fashion. “See,” said Bill staring directly at Jack.

“See what,” answered a somewhat puzzled looking Jack.

Bill pointed at the ceiling with the beam of the flashlight , then at all the ancient old wooden furniture and said, “no cobwebs,” I mean,” continued Bill,” how old is this house and how long as it been buried under all this undergrowth?”

“Oh yea,” mumbled Jack, “yes you’d think there’d be at least “some” dirt.” 

At that point Jack wandered over to a very large fireplace and wiping his fingers along the top said, “Nothing, no dirt at all, well how bleeding strange is that, the place should be covered in dust?”

Bill shone the flashlight into the open fireplace now and nearly dropping the flashlight he cried, Jesus look at that!”

Both men stared into the fireplace and there, sat directly in the middle was what looked like a huge metal pot, 

“it looks like a bleedin Witches cauldron,” laughed Jack Harper, Bill Bateman wasn’t laughing though, there was something decidedly not right about this place.

It was Jack’s turn to shout now and he motioned Bill to join him directly in front of the large mantelpiece above the fireplace.

“Point the light there, said Jack and Bill Bateman duly obliged whilst Jack reached out toward the mantelpiece.

Standing in a row were a set of what looked like small figurines and they were all different, as in one was some sort of farmer, another a soldier and even a little ballerina.

“Wonder how much these are worth," muttered Jack and he reached forward to show Bill one.

The two inches in length small figurine lay in Jack's hand and Bill Bateman shone the light directly onto it.

The figurine appeared to be some kind of boy and he had a mop of jet black hair and was dressed in a brown waistcoat with white breeches.

“Look at that detail,” whispered Jack, “it’s almost lifelike” and as Bill moved the light closer to the little boy figurine’s face, they both noticed it’s mouth seemed to be set in a twisted sort of scream.

Just as both men were intently studying the boys face something incredible happened, the figurine’s eyes blinked open and shut! “Jesus Christ,” both men screamed and Jack dropped the figurine to the floor of the house.

Both men had already decided that this particular endeavour had gone too far, but just as they were both about to exit the front door, they both froze in their tracks, there, sitting on a mat directly in front of them was a huge Black Cat!!

“Where the bloody hell did that Cat come from?” shouted Jack Harper.

“No idea,” replied a now terrified Bill and just as both men were about to shoo the big Cat away from the door they heard the sound of laughing!

Swiftly turning around and shining the flashlight around the cottage they then heard a voice.

Both terrified men spun back toward the door and there, this time instead of a big Black Cat was what looked like a little old woman dressed from head to toe in a jet black cloak.

“May I ask you two gentlemen a question?”

Both Bill Bateman and Jack Harper answered exactly at the same time, 

“What‘s that?”

There was a short pause, then the small bent figure in the black cloak spoke. “Do you believe in Witches?”

Both men just stared at the old whatever it was in front of them and then Bill Bateman answered.

“Why, everyone knows “there’s no such thing as Witches.”

The old crone threw off her cloak and finally revealed herself to a disbelieving and horrified Jack Harper and Bill Bateman.

Cackling like something straight from the pit of hell itself the old Witch replied.
“Really? Well we’ll soon see about that won’t we gentlemen? He he he he he he he he he he he he he he”



THE END