The Witch’s House

RDP Wednesday: MELODY

When I used to go for walks with my Grandfather and his dog Darwin my Grandfather would point out the mushrooms that you could pick and eat and he would point out plants whose roots were so deadly and so poisonous that you’d be convinced that brain or not, these particular plants were capable of being homicidal maniacs too.

Something that deadly, I came to think, were that deadly for a reason.

Just like people.

Sometimes we would go to the back part of his property where we have an honest to goodness family cemetery- most of the markings on the gravestones had been almost wiped clean by the elements.

That patch had been very old and had been neglected for a very long time, it should have been dead but it wasn’t.

One of my Great Uncles had a little dog perched on top of his headstone and it still looked like a dog, it had a sad face and it’s ears dropped down against the side of it’s head.

If I could have, I would have pried  that little dog lose and taken it away – maybe put it in a garden where you didn’t have to be careful of which mushroom you picked or which berries you could eat without fear eating the wrong one and having  them turning your guts to mush.

In my mind, that little  stone dog was still alive- unlike it’s neighbors that were dead or waiting for their chance to do you in.

It was on one of our walks where Grandfather was a little more quiet then usual and I wasn’t as chatty when I first noticed this odd little melody that Grandfather was humming. The tune reminded me of a bat chasing bugs at dusk- it was all over the place but it  moved with purpose.

” That’s a funny song, ” I said ” what is it called?”

I thought I had heard him humming something like it before, but it wasn’t the same exact song.

We stopped in front of the Caretaker’s Cottage, a decrepit  stone cottage that we called the Witch’s House. The Witch’s Houset was missing most of it’s roof and it’s side door, but not it’s front door.

That door was chained shut.

” It’s not a song. ”

” What is it then? Because it sounds like a song to me. Kind of. ”

” Lillis, shh, listen. ”

I heard creaking and sighing, I heard dry leaves rustling over little stones.

I looked from the cottage to my Grandfather. ” I’m humming the sound the wind makes when it goes through the Witch’s House. ” he told me.

” You really are. ” I was pleasantly surprised. ” So it never sounds like the same song. I get it. Very clever. ”

Grandfather smiled at me and I saw his eyes slide to the left, towards the cottage and when he looked back at me I was smiling too.

” Of course, there isn’t a breeze and there hasn’t been a breath of wind all day. Not a single breath. ”

” Oh you can always hear a breath or two  coming from the Witch’s House, Lillis. Always.”

6 thoughts on “The Witch’s House

  1. For some reason my site doesn’t support the reblog button! I’d forgotten about that. I think people have been posting the links in posts they write recommending things to read. To answer your question, the picture of the cottage isn’t the Witch’s House that inspired by the story. That was torn down years ago. The part about my Grandfather teaching my about plants and how to find a tune in odd places was real too. He also used to tell me loads of ghost stories on our walks. Just as an FYI there was a story that floated around for years about a body that had been buried in my Great Grandmother’s side yard- it was supposed to have been a still born baby, but the details were hazy. It was under a tree. That’s all I remember.

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