coming soon...when a woman is simply not an option, she's a priority
Oh, I do. I grew up in a small town. Like any small town we had our resident witch. I used to feel bad for her. I used to think she was just lonely. I used to think she was harmless. She was your average witch. Old, gray, wrinkled, missing teeth, stooped,owned a few dozen too many cats. When my little brothers were 8 and 10 they wanted to trick or treat at her house. You know to prove how brave they were. They were brave enough to ask their sister to go with them so she could attack the big bad witch if she pounced.I told them they were being stupid but went with them anyway. I'd always wanted to get up close and personal with the witch. We trek all the way across town. It was only a mile and a half. Did I mention the town was small? We stood outside her rickety old gate trying to gather enough courage to knock on her door. After talking ourselves in and out of ringing her bell a hundred times we walked up her cracked and crumbling walkway, climbed her front steps, and knocked.She didn't answer for a while. When she did answer she threw the door open. Her house was lit inside by only candles. She wore an old Victorian era dress with a black veil over her face. In her hand she held a dagger with an ornate handle. The blade was clean but her hand was dripping blood. Like she'd cut it, deep. I heard a baby (I swear to God I heard a baby)cry in the background and she laughs a witches cackle. Scared shitless my brothers and I run for our freaking lives. She died that night. At least I think she died that night. Her body wasn't found for a couple weeks. My parents bought her big ancient house. They wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast. When we went in to clean it out there were all these weird jars of stuff. Herbs, bugs, one really big jar held a goat with two heads. I am not freaking kidding. The strangest thing we found was a set of baby clothes laid out on the coffee table. This lady didn't have any living relatives so the clothes didn't belong to her grandkid or anything. And the clothes were new. Not old. Not like something she might have saved from a child no one knew anything about. It gets weirder. My dad completely gutted her house. Inside the walls we found really old books written in Latin. They had diagrams of pentagrams, odd runic symbols, and drawings of people sacrificing animals and people. You know, creepy shit. He also found bones inside her walls. Finding all the other crap in her house he turned the bones over to the police. They were all animal. Chickens, goats, and cats mostly. After renovating the house my parents didn't really have the stomach to own it. They sold it.Now I'm not saying she sacrificed a baby that Halloween, but it would not surprise me if she did. Creepy does not begin to describe the feeling of this woman's house.
That is creepy, Katie. The house would have made a perfect haunted B&B. I have nothing to share, Davee. Nothing like Katie's story. Wow!
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