A Witch Comes A Haunting: Urban 4

A Witch Comes

A

Haunting

Nothing is as it seems

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2019

Published 2019

ISBN: 9781393747192

Artwork by tshirtshop.com using

Pixabay

Free for commercial use

No attribution required by

JStalp & darksouls1

––––––––

A. Nation

Urban 4

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

By your payment of the required fees, you cannot transfer any part of this text into any form.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. 

Acknowledgments

I want to thank those that gave me support and tolerated my persistence in writing my story; they are by first names only as they know who they are:

Yuma Writers on the Edge, Christie, Shirley, Kam, Nancy, and John.

Graphic Design by T-Shirt Shoppe, Blackfoot, Idaho

Table of Contents

Chapter  1 – Escape

Chapter  2 - Small Town News

Chapter  3 - The Elves’ Secret

Chapter  4 - JackOput and Thyla

Chapter  5 - The Storm

Chapter  6 - Bosloe’s and Bones

Chapter  7 - Farm Problems

Chapter  8 – Miriam’s Hog

Chapter  9 - My Eyes, My Ears

Chapter 10 – Warning

Chapter 11 – Plagues

Chapter 12 – Nacobi

Chapter 13 – The Ogre

Chapter 14 – Searching

Chapter 15 – Fin Helps

Chapter 16 – What we found

Chapter 17 – Making Peace

Chapter 18 – Aliwina

Chapter 19 – Help Arrives

Chapter 20 - Carnival

Chapter 21 – The Final Magic Act

Chapter 22 – David

Chapter 23 – My Secret to Tell

Chapter 24 - Resolve

About the Author

Cast of Characters:

Susan Edwards

Trisha Paige

Peter and Kris Paige

Rene’

Sally Montgomery

Jacob

Jean Hansen

Hobnobby

Niki

Fin

Cal

JackOput

Thyla

Hiram Starr

Miriam Starr

Travis Straight

Karl Ahlberg

David Brook

Huldra, a female troll

Waahní, a coyote

Bia’isa, a wolf

Tiko, a nisser or elf

Nacobi, an old gnome in Bailory

Landfort Hare

Peter Hare

Prologue

Susan, now! Hobnobby yelled.

I did what I was told and closed my eyes.

The witch flew at us at full speed. We heard a slight thump into the mirror but nothing else. Then Hobs spoke to me again.

It’s okay now. Help me, Susan! We need to get water on this mirror. Lay it down on the floor facing the salty puddle.

A distant screech echoed from the mirror.

Was that a scream I heard? I asked.

Now, drop the mirror forward to break the glass, Hobs instructed.

We let go. When the huge mirror, framed by curls and filigrees, hit the hardwood floor, glass crinkled, along with a few more faded, angry screams in anger.

Handing me a newspaper, Hobs said, Wrap up all the large pieces and when you are outside, place them face up where the sun will shine on its reflective side. (The Pottery Sale by A. Nation)

Chapter 1

Escape

Arms outstretched, the witch treaded her way through the never-ending mist. The Nether has no beginning, no end, no time, and no age. Endless grayish clouds filled the vacuum. Without a judge to indicate how long she had been here, she could only remember entering this lonely abyss.

That little gnome tricked me, she thought.

She recalled flying at him, but instead of capturing him, she passed into a mirror. Once she crossed the reflection into the nether, she fell on top a bare-skinned ogre from Earth. Had he not been there she would have fallen forever. For a time, chasing him was the only diversion and abuse she could inflict, but now the large man bored her. Consumed with revenge, she focused her efforts to locate a way out of this endless nothingness.

She gave up trying to gaze at her hands through the fog since she could no longer see her fingers. Several times, she thought she found an escape on the smooth barrier of her prison but the surface would not give. There was a moment when a young boy picked up a shard of the old mirror lying in the street as he played with his friends. When she stared back at him, the frightened boy saw the old woman’s face in the reflection. He dropped the glass onto the pavement, leaving tiny slivers all over the asphalt. Each time she found a bedroom or a hallway mirror through the barrier, she couldn’t push through.

I’ll find that little runt, Hobnobby, and his human friend. I’ll destroy them both! she cursed many times aloud.

The bend and pain in her back refused to let her straighten. Her thin boney hands brushed back the withered strands of hair from her face.

There you are. Want to race? she heard the ogre say behind her.

She could feel the presence of the large puffy-faced man standing near her.

Go away. I’m busy, she snapped.

She tried to see him through the mist but relied on the closeness of his words nearby. How this beast of a man could have entered this wasteland was a mystery to her. Only beings with magical powers could come into this place. Grilling him several times over made her realize he was a waste of her time. He knew nothing.

If you find a way out of here, you’ll take me with you, won’t you? the ogre asked.

Having nothing to occupy himself, he had become familiar to her abuse.

Likely chance. Leave me be, ogre.

That’s Mr. Ahlberg to you, madam. What is your name? In the time we have been together, you have never said.

She whipped around and pushed her haggard old face close to his round pudgy complexion.

No one shall speak my name, never. Now go away! she yelled, exposing her sharp broken teeth.

—-

One day in late in April, before Easter, Lorilee Dawn turned her Open sign around in her store window. Her shop, Dawn’s Early Light, located at the edge of town, offered spiritual curios and glassware. In the main display room, warmed by the sun, she pulled off her shawl, revealing a loose white blouse and a long wool skirt. She feather dusted and wiped around the curved funneled vases with an old flannel cloth. The sun beamed through the glassware reflections as they danced across her tiled floor.

Lorilee raised her eyes to glance out of her front window when she thought she heard a car door shut. Her first customer of the day parked outside. A man exited his car, and walked around to open the hatchback. She watched him as he pulled out a large box from the trunk of his car. Leaving the lid open, the old man lumbered toward her front door. Lorilee rushed to assist him and held the door open as he stepped inside. The door chimes rang above them as the doorframe brushed against a tiny bell. As she closed the door behind him, small birds flew onto the edge of her roof to sing their songs.

What do you have there? she asked.

The man walked past the candles and spiritual figurines, carrying his open cardboard box toward her counter. He looked for a suitable place to set his container down and then placed it on the floor in front of the register. She walked around to his side to see what he had brought. On occasion, some people bring handcrafted items they have made.

My wife died recently and I’m just trying to clear some things out I don’t need. I thought you might be interested in them, he said, opening the top flaps of the cardboard box.

When Lorilee looked inside, she saw various photo frames, teacups, and Christmas knickknacks and knew she couldn’t help the poor man in his grief.

Oh, I’m sorry, but this is not what I sell, she said, standing. You should try the used goods store in Shelley.

Look, here’s a mirror. Surely, you can use the frame? he asked, holding up a small mirror with silver edging. I really need to give these a good home. She loved the Christmas stuff and my children don’t want them. My wife would spend a long time staring into this mirror until she died.

Lorilee noticed his eyes glisten as she received the silver edged mirror from his hand. She smoothed her fingers over the glass finish.

Well, I feel a small defect on the mirror but you’re right, the frame is unusual. Is this real silver?

He nodded. My wife always bought the best.

Feeling sorry for the old man, she decided to make him an offer.

How about I give you fifty dollars for the whole box?

Hmm, I was hoping for more, he said.

Take it to the thrift shop or leave it. It will take me some time to sell enough to break even, she explained.

All right, I’ll take it, he sighed.

Lorilee stepped over to the cash register and pressed the code button to open the till drawer. She pulled out two twenties and a ten, she counted the money into his hand.

Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day, he said, inserting the cash into his wallet.

You too, she replied, watching as he closed the front door behind him, Lorilee pushed the cardboard box over to the corner of the room next to a large floor length mirror standing against the wall. She didn’t have time to sort through the container right now. Just as she turned around to resume her dusting, Jean Hansen, her part-time help, entered, ringing the front door chimes.

Sorry I’m late. My daughter called me and I lost track of time, Jean said, hanging her coat on a hook rack near the door.

That’s all right. We have a lot of new items ready to unpack in the back. Why don’t you start on them and I’ll price them when you bring them out, Lorilee said.

—-

Deep inside the nether world, the obscure mist clouded the witch’s vision but not her fingertips as they moved along the smooth surface. A scratch, yes. It’s definitely an edge, she thought as her long fingernails hooked on the raised line of this world. Standing back, she wiped the mist side to side. She couldn’t see through the darkened pane until she pressed her face against it. Picking and scratching, she dug her dagger fingernails into the thin ridge.

Weary of her efforts, she cupped her hands over the sides of her eyes and saw an enormous wooden box in a shadowed room. Crystal glassware stacked on shelves reflected an eerie silver and golden hue across the floor. What is this place? she asked herself. She pounded on the hard surface but it still wouldn’t give. Crying out in frustration, she dare not leave this spot. For if she did, the defect could not be found again. One of her curled nails chipped off her boney finger as she dug once again into the continuous surface, sending her into a rage.

As she was about to give up, a spark of light caught her attention. A crack appeared and then spread across the invisible barrier. At first an inch, and then another. Up and across, the thin line traveled. She thumped the surface as hard as she could with both of her fists, tolerating the pain of impact. To her delight, she heard a pop from the pane. Hammering her fist upon the glass again caused the surface of her prison to give way. Glass shards flew everywhere across the tiled flooring beyond her reach. The small aperture sucked in the cool air from the outside, but still, she wasn’t free from this nether prison.

She rubbed the gold ring, centered by a large red ruby, molded around her long finger. This last bit of magic was her only chance to escape. She grew smaller and smaller until she could fit through the tiny hole in the open shard of glass. Sucking in her breath, the witch turned into a thin wisp of black smoke. Easing out of the glass prison, she transformed into her full height within the strange room. The large wooden box before her appeared to be a store counter.

Hey, hey what about me? said a tiny voice, beckoning from the small mirror of her former prison.

Peering down into the storage box, she saw the ogre pounding on the other side of the silver framed broken mirror. His enclosure sealed firm.

You shall stay for eternity, she muttered under her breath and turned the small mirror to face the other picture frames.

As she stood in the middle of the darkened room, she thought she saw another person beside her. She turned and realized it was a large floor-length mirror reflecting her image. Her ancient age showed across her weathered jowls and an elongated nose. Her ragged black cloak trimmed in maroon hung over her boney arms. I’ll have to remedy that soon or die in a heap of dust, she growled, smashing her fist against her reflection. The floor-length mirror cracked as it depressed into a large spidered crater under the force of her fist.

As she swung around, her cloak caught on some of the glassware in the nearby shelving. Vases and dishware crashed as they fell into smithereens, scattering across the hard tiled floor.

Rushing toward the front door of the store, she discovered it resisted. Her witch power had weakened with her age and use of her ring. Instead, she wrapped her crooked fingers around the rusty doorknob and yanked the door open. She wanted to hunt those who banished her into that prison, but for now, she’ll have to find a young life force to stay alive.

The old witch hobbled along the road, each step heavier than the last. Her loss of power prevented her from floating or flying off into the night sky. As she lumbered closer to a few more buildings along the highway, she could hear robust music in the distance toward the small town. As she approached closer, the lively tunes emitting from a small building had an overhead sign flashing ‘Storm’s Bar.’

Music from a tavern, she deduced, recalling not only the elves’ ale taprooms in Bailory, but also the drinking rooms in the ancient village of her conjure. She could find young people entertaining here, but she didn’t dare enter in her present condition.

Trudging on, she noticed a row of five vehicles lined up against the cement curb in front of the barroom. The loud music emitting into the clear night air played the same country western tune over and over. Laughter from many patrons inside danced with the music, floating past the doorway.

Weakened by her walk, she stopped and leaned against a parked car to catch her breath. From across the hood of one of the cars, her attention caught a young man standing between two vehicles.

What’s this? she asked herself, crouching down. Through the vehicle’s glass window, she watched. The young man leaned into the wheel well of a large four-door pickup. She cracked a smile, as he stood relieving himself.

As swift as she could without making a sound, she rounded the back of the car beside him. Drawing closer, she held her boney hands apart. This was her chance. She made her last quick move. Her long fingers wrapped around the young man’s neck while she grasped his left arm. She pulled him toward her hollow chest. He tried to pull her hand away with his free hand as he gasped his last breath. Tighter she held onto him as she absorbed his life force into her being. His one waving arm jerked. He then relaxed as his body disintegrated into a heap of dust and bone onto the asphalt street.

Her once tattered cloak mended as new as the day she stole it from the village tailor. The dark purple shade in her hood brightened to a blazing crimson. The skin of her hands and face smoothed out in the absence of age as her teeth straightened and whitened. While her eyes glistened in the streetlight, she opened and closed her fingers to enhance her magic. Her arms strengthened with the life force power now flowing through her veins. Where the man had once stood, her youthful persona glanced about in all directions.

Ah, now to hold this town in my grip—South of fire, West of knowledge, East of death and North my anchor, she chanted, flicking her hand in the four directions to place her curse across the four directions of the small town. Satisfied, she looked both ways to make sure the sidewalk remained empty.

Her obsession to find her assaulters dampened the desire to enter the bar. She had more important things to do. Stepping in the pile of dust before her feet, she raised her foot onto the cement curb of the sidewalk. She floated past the block of closed businesses until the broad window of a hair salon caught her eye. On the inside of the glassed frame sat pale styrofoam heads in a row, wearing coiffured tresses colored from blond to deep black. Smiling rabbits and a colorful egg scene decorated the window for the upcoming holidays. With one short flick of her hand, the glass shattered and fell inside onto the floor. False white heads and hair flew in all directions.

Chuckling to herself, the witch turned an ear to sudden voices. Three girls, who had turned the corner of the building across the street, cupped their hands to their mouths and bent close together, laughing as they pointed at her. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that old thing, she heard one of them say. The witch fumed. She snapped her fingers. The only thing left on the sidewalk stood three scrawny turkeys gobbling to each other.

The witch laughed with a haunting echo and stopped. She placed her hand across her mouth not wishing discovery of her true identity. She turned her attention due north as the turkeys wandered away. Glancing once again toward the bar and back at the broken glass, she cackled to herself and floated on. No one can stop me now, she muttered.

Chapter 2

Small Town News

My name is Susan Edwards, and the strangest things happened to me. I could be your neighbor or a friend you enjoy spending time together. My friends would say I’m your average next-door neighbor, well almost average. I live in a small town in Idaho called Firth. You see, a couple of years ago my husband died from a terrible accident on the highway. Still grieving for the loss of my love, something sucked me into a weird land called Vesda. That’s right. That place was out of this world. The people in that land became my friends and helped me figure out how my husband died from murder.

After a time, I persisted until two scientists could return us home. They created enough power to make one trip, landing everyone in my back yard. However, something about me was different this time. When the