Audrey stood at the stove, the steady gas burner providing a glow of light; her oversized pot was beginning to bubble. She tried to remember the words which she used to accompany this ritual; an eye of newt and toe of frog. The wind outside was whipping a frenzy, and the old shutters was banging against her run down cladding. The constant thud an invitation to the neighbours to be warned of this weary hag.
Standing on the opposite side of the road was a group who fashioned themselves as young men, despite puberty only just beginning to bloom. They stared beyond the thorns of the climbing rose, and they dared to glare beyond the rust of the high iron fence. The witch’s house was in complete darkness. The boys imagined shadows of ghouls dancing across the verandah and the creaking boards stepped on by unseen manifestations. A hanging plant was tossed about in the wind, and fell to the porch. The crack of its terracotta pot offered foreshadowing the terror of crossing the threshold.
The eldest boy, Jack, declared he was not scared, as he stuffed his trembling hands inside his pockets. Likewise, Dylan made the same decree – he was the smallest of the group, but he had a fighting spirit. He began to journey across the road, taking deliberate steps which weakened as he got to the road’s centre. An overgrown tree branch was bouncing wildly in the wind, and he thought, perhaps, there was some kind of creature in its foliage. Gargoyle creatures flooded his thoughts, as he imagined the claws of the ghastly beasts reaching to him, as the branch would swing and sway above his head.
Jack moved beyond Dylan, and as he approached the creaking gate. In the street light, he could set the concrete path that lay beyond it was cracked. Tree roots had forced the path to buckle and break over the years and it offered a wicked entry to the home. The shutters continued to slam, and the wind blew louder. Dylan, aware the boys on the other side of the road spoke quickly, ‘Let’s just get in there, take a photo of the witch, and get out’. His breathing was becoming more laboured, and Jake was sure this dare was going to be the death of them. Sure, they’d made a contingency plan – the group of onlookers had his phone, ready to dial the police if they didn’t come out of the house alive, but, being un-alive did not give him any degree of confidence. Neither boy wanted to look foolish or scared in front of the group, and they took the path with tentative steps, resting their weight on the balls of their feet, ready to turn and run at any moment. The tree branch above them snapped. It fell fast and its crunch was loud. Jack’s eyes widened, as he realised their escape route had been turned into an obstacle course. Dylan took the next step forward, Jack had to follow.
They reached the front door and their hesitations continued. Dylan took the faded brass knob in his hand, and Jack held his breath. The knob slowly began to come alive, moving millimetre by millimetre. They had both been secretly hoping the door would be locked, but it continued to turn in Dylan’s hand. Dylan had forgotten to breath, and almost mechanically, his hand continued to move around until they heard a click and the great door opened. They stepped just over the threshold into the complete darkness. The wind caught the door and it slammed shut behind them. They both let out a mortal groan of terror, and then froze as they heard a chorus coming from the kitchen, ‘Double, double toil and trouble / Fire burn and cauldron bubble’.
And then the lights came on. Audrey had poked her head around the doorframe from the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. She had been expecting her book club to arrive to discuss the newest Mills and Boon, not two miscreants breaking into her living room. Audrey’s mouth began to form a spray of words, and Jack and Dylan’s eyes both became wider and their own mouths began to form a hysterical scream. As their scream echoed out, Audrey invited them to calm down and take a seat on the good lounge – she’d just made a pot of herbal tea, and she insisted it would calm their nerves.
Outside, a car pulled up and four late middle-aged women, wearing dark shawls and sensible shoes got out. They hadn’t heard the scream, but the rest of the boys had, and as they ran through the night, they frantically began to dial the police to report the coven who they imagined would be cursing and terrorising their friends.