The little town of Durnham kept to itself, staying quiet and all by its lonesome within Durnham Wood. Or so one might think. For deep within the wood lived a witch who was deeply annoyed with the townspeople. For throughout the years the list of petty grievances grew greater and greater; finally becoming too much to bear.
“Why, just two days ago they were only five shinars a bushel and now they've cost me eight!” the witch, who lived deep in Durnham Wood, exclaimed to Puffin.
“Meow,” was her only reply; for Puffin was just a calico cat.
The witch scooped up Puffin, petting her gently. “But you understand me, don’t you Puffin?” The witch let out a sigh, tired of all the trouble that town gave her. If you thought seven shinars for a bushel was bad, just imagine what she had to deal with on Hollow’s Eve. Every annoying little child from Durnham knocking on her door and interrupting her rituals with the expectation of free goodies. She didn’t have enough time for that! Let alone the sympathy.
So she thought, “What could I do to get rid of those pesky villagers and their town? I don’t even like them, not one bit. Well, except for Mrs.Merriweather's pies, but I can just steal the recipe.” She had to come up with something, something good. Something so particularly effective yet vile.
“Poison the well?” She asked Puffin.
“Meow.”
“Oh you’re right, too cliche.”
Puffin let out a purr as she scratched her ears.
“Or how about- oh! OH HO!” Her grotesque grin began to take form as a horrible idea took form in her head. Setting Puffin down, she briskly walked to her cauldron and pointed a gnarled finger at the logs beneath it.
ZAP! FHWOOMF!
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
A bolt of lightning shot from her fingertip, setting the logs ablaze to bring the water in the cauldron to a boil. Grabbing jars, herbs, and other oddities, she began mixing them in. The water thickened, becoming far too much like a cooling gravy.
With a malevolent glint in her eyes, she brought up a cupped hand over the cauldron. The murky stew frothed and bubbled below, as Puffin watched on in horror. For in the witch’s hand was a vine.
Once it fell in, it could never come back out. The concoction became a deep green, thick and viscous as large bubbles popped putridly as they reached the surface of the boiling mass. She plunged a massive wooden spoon into its depths and began to stir, her countenance taking on a green hue as light from the cauldron reflected onto her warty face.
The witch then began to sing, the large spoon rhythmically stirring all by itself. She then began to move, fluttering around the cauldron with grace. And then her words flowed like a poisoned honeycomb, sweet with a deadly little bite to it. Eventually even Puffin joined in, bopping back and forth in time as an old drum and some pots and pans began to keep the beat; her voice echoed by an eerie harp.
Vines, vines! Twisty vines!
Creeping, snaking, moving vines!
Green and sapphire, heal my ire
Come alive, come alive!
Now circle ‘round, circle ‘round!
Move, move, both up and down!
Now grapevine right and box step left,
Spin about ‘till you’re the very best!
Sway left and sway right,
And now dart in a forward strike!
Yes, yes! Learn to fight
So that you may ease my blight!
And dig down, oh so down,
Burrow into the very ground!
Then tunnel far and tunnel wide,
Right into the town’s underside!
Oh- vines, vines! My beautiful vines:
Whirling, twirling, dancing vines!
Digging vines, tunneling vines!
Moving, sneaking, hiding, lurking, creeping, grabbing, breaking, holding, choking, strangling, crushing, mushing, slaying, torturing, killing, EVIL VINES!
“Ahhh-ahahaha! Ahhh-ahahaha! Ahhh-ahahaha! Ahhh-ahahahahaa!”
Her cackle rang out into the night as hundreds of vines surrounded her hut, even entering inside as they swayed to her rhythm. Obeying her song, they danced and spun, a beautifully horrid sight. Once the spell was complete all lights within her hut went out, the cauldron becoming cold and only holding clean water as it had before. Everything was silent and still. Then the vines began swaying once more as they began to burrow into the ground, digging towards Durnham.