When I was little I firmly believed that witches made themselves cat sized and hid under my bed just before the sun came up.
I would lay there and try to guess how many of them where under there. How many babies they ate, how many curses they cast, how many trees they killed when they sat on the branches and waited to drop on people who were dumb enough to be strolling around during the Witching Hour.
To me if you ran into a witch you were going to end up in a cooking pot, a cat collector ( they ate them too because Cats could see evil so of course NO self respecting witch would want them around) and by the way the Witch took the Cat Collectors Tongues and sewed their eyes shut with their own hair.
Because I was the type of kid who got super angry when she was super scared I took it upon myself to find a way to get those little Witches if they tried to grab me when I got out of bed in the morning.
I made a little doll that sort of looked like a witch.
I say sort of because it had no head.
And then I put it under my bed.
Now I am grown and I know better.
Really I do.
But under my bed in a shoebox with the lid off I have a little doll with no head and every morning when I reach for my slippers my fingers brush against that box.
And I smile.