From Three Tales of Middle Grade Horror - Which Witch?

To celebrate Halloween, here's a sneak peek at Three Tales of Middle Grade Horror!

Which Witch?: A girl’s cat is lost and she can’t find it. With Halloween
being so close, she worries for her pet’s safety and searches for him.
When she and her friend can’t find the cat, they check out the house on
the hill, where a witch supposedly lives. They see the collar inside,
through a window. The next night, after Trick-or-Treating, they go back
to get the collar and things take a turn for the worst, but not the way
they expected.



Available for download on Smashwords.

    WHICH WITCH?
    By Rebecca Besser


    “What’s wrong?” Taylor Simmons asked as she walked up to the porch steps where her friend was sulking.
    “Tiger went missing sometime yesterday,” Susan Hughes said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve looked everywhere, but I still can’t find him.”
    Sitting down, Taylor wrapped her arm around Susan and gave her a hug.
    “How did he get out of the house? Don’t you usually keep him inside?”
    “Yeah,” Susan said with a sniff. “Brian didn’t shut the door when he took the trash out last night – it’s the only time I know of that Tiger could have gotten out of the house.”
    “Maybe he’ll come home on his own,” Taylor said. “If he can’t find food or something, maybe he’ll just come back.”
    “But he doesn’t have his claws,” Susan sobbed softly. “What if he meets another cat and has to fight? He’ll be at a disadvantage. Tomorrow is Halloween. . . What if someone does something mean to him just for fun? You know how people can be!”
    Taylor hugged her friend again.
    “How about we go for a walk around the block and see if we can find him, and if we don’t, maybe one of our parents will drive us around to look for him later.”
    Susan sniffed, wiped tears from her cheeks, and nodded. “Dad said he would take me when he got home from work today, if it wasn’t too dark.”
    Taylor smiled. “Hopefully we find Tiger and we don’t have to worry about that.”
    Susan went in and told her mom what they planned to do.
    When she came back outside, the two girls went for a walk to find the lost orange tiger-striped cat. Susan had gotten him for her tenth birthday, two years ago, and she was really attached to him.
    They called his name and walked slowly, going to the door of each house to ask the residents if they’d seen the cat. No one had.
    “This is frustrating,” Susan said. “He had to have been seen by someone.”
    Soon, they came to Miss Nordstrom’s house. She was a nice, younger woman who was friendly with the children of the neighborhood, and always inviting them over for cookies or lemonade when she saw them outside playing. Not only was she friendly and nice, but she was beautiful as well. She had long blonde, curly hair, aqua blue eyes, and perfect white teeth. Her nose was the perfect size, and her dark pink lips were always smiling. The girls of the neighborhood always envied her and wanted to look just like her when they grew up.
    The girls climbed the light blue painted cement steps and smiled at each other as they rang the door bell. If anyone would help them, it would be Miss Nordstrom.
    In a matter of moments the door opened to the cheery smile the girls expected.
    “Susan! Taylor!” Miss Nordstrom said happily. “What are you doing here? Come to visit? I just pulled a pumpkin roll out of the oven. Would you like to come in for a piece?”
    The girls looked at each other, shrugged, and nodded yes. They could smell the pumpkin and spices in air as it drifted out of the house and it made them hungry.
    “Have a seat in the parlor,” Miss Nordstrom instructed. “I’ll get us a snack. Would you like tea or hot chocolate?”
    “Hot chocolate,” the girls said in unison, and then giggled.
    Miss Nordstrom grinned, nodded, and went to the kitchen.
    Even though Susan and Taylor had been in the parlor many times, they were still fascinated by the elegance of the decor – everything appeared to be antique and well maintained.
    They sat down on an lavish red velvet couch and looked around.
    “What’s that smell?” Susan asked, wrinkling her nose.
    Taylor sniffed. “I don’t smell anything.”
    Susan looked down at the couch, frowning. She didn’t find anything, so she looked at the small, round end table that sat beside her. Resting on its top was a lamp and a shallow bowl with a mesh bag, which looked like it held potpourri. Leaning closer, she sniffed.
    “Found it,” she said, lifting the bag by the string and holding it out for Taylor to smell.
    Taylor wrinkled her nose and gaged. “That reeks! Get it away from me!”
    Susan made a disgusted face and put it back where she’d found it.
    Miss Nordstrom entered the room at that exact moment, carrying a tray full of mugs of steaming beverages, small plates, forks, napkins, and pumpkin roll.
    The girl’s faces lit up as the pumpkin and spice aroma overpowered the stench of the little bag, but not before Miss Nordstrom saw their expressions.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked the girls, setting the tray down gently on the coffee table. “You look disgusted with something.”
    Taylor shrugged and looked at Susan.
    “I was just sitting here and I smelled something funny,” Susan said, picking up the little mesh bag to show Miss Nordstrom. “I found this – it really stinks.”
    Miss Nordstrom laughed. “If it bothers you, I’ll put it some place else.”
    She took the bag from Susan, put it back in the bowl and moved it to the top of an old piano that was in the opposite corner of the small room.
    “Better?”
    Susan smiled and nodded. “Yes, thanks. What was in it? Why do you keep something so smelly in here?”
    “Susan,” Taylor gasped, elbowing her friend in the side. “That was rude!”
    Miss Nordstrom laughed. “Not at all – I have no problem answering those questions. The bag has a mixture of herbs in it. My great-grandma used to make those bags before every Halloween, to keep bad spirits out of the house; it’s an old superstition. I can’t say I really believe it, but doing it each year makes me feel closer to my family.”
    Both girls smiled and nodded. They knew that Miss Nordstrom didn’t have any living relatives, and didn’t want to push the subject. They took what she said at face value and let any weirdness slip by in the name of politeness.
    They talked and laughed for the next ten minutes as they ate their delicious snack, forgetting about the stinking bag.
    “Now,” Miss Nordstrom said, putting her empty plate back on the tray, “what has brought you two to my doorstep this afternoon? You didn’t look too happy when you arrived.”
    With the reminder of the reason for their visit, tears sprang to Susan’s eyes and she gushed out the whole tale of Tiger going missing while Taylor held her hand.
    “Oh, that’s terrible,” Miss Nordstrom exclaimed. “No one has seen him? What does he look like?”
    “He’s a plump orange and yellow tiger-striped cat,” Taylor said, as Susan was now crying too hard to speak. “He has a tie-dye collar with a little gold bell on it.”
    “Hmm, let me think,” Miss Nordstrom said thoughtfully. “I don’t recall seeing any strange cats around lately. Have you checked over by Mrs. Larson’s? I’ve heard of all kinds of animals disappearing over there.”
    With the mention of Mrs. Larson, both girls froze, their faces going white with fear. Mrs. Larson was a crazy old lady who lived in an old rickety house on the hill. Her yard was always overgrown, and dark clouds and fog seemed to linger around the house. She was a witch, or so all the children believed.
    “Mrs. . . .  Mrs. . . .  Larson?” Susan asked in a quivery voice, swallowing hard. “You think she might have taken Tiger?”
    Miss Nordstrom shrugged and sighed. “I’m not saying she did, but I’ve heard stories of her taking animals that she finds roaming around. If you don’t find Tiger anywhere else, I would check there.”
    The girls glanced at each other; the knuckles of their clasped hands were now white for gripping so tightly. They were afraid of Mrs. Larson – they always had been.
    “I hate to rush you two out,” Miss Nordstrom said, standing and picking up the tray now laden with empty plates and mugs. “I wasn’t expecting company today, and I have an appointment soon. I wish you good luck in finding Tiger.”
    The girls mumbled their thanks for the refreshments and made polite good-byes, but as they walked out of the house chills ran down their spines; they jumped as the door closed with a loud thump behind them. Thunder boomed from the sky where dark clouds had gathered. Lightning flashed and the wind picked up with a vengeance.
    They glanced at Mrs. Larson’s house on the hill, which was shrouded in dark storm clouds. The lightning flashed off the windows and made the house look like it was coming alive and wanted to eat them.
    Thunder boomed again, and the girls screamed. They ran off the porch and all the way back to Susan’s house, knowing it was about to storm. Just as they stepped through the door, closing it tightly behind themselves, rain poured from the fall sky. The huge drops of water drowned the world in gray, stripping radiant red, orange, and yellow leaves from the trees, laying them out in a murky carpet on the road and lawns.
    The girls darted up the steps to Susan’s room and talked in hushed voices about what they would do tomorrow – how they would find Tiger. They decided as a last resort, they would go to Mrs. Larson’s, but only after they’d checked everywhere else.

    ~

    The next morning was still overcast; gray, damp clouds hung low to the ground, setting the perfect stage for Halloween. The girls met at the agreed upon time and continued their search, but no one had seen Tiger.
    “Let’s just go do it,” Taylor said. “The sooner we go and ask, the sooner we can get home and get ready to go Trick-or-Treating. Besides, I’m cold and hungry.”
    Susan nodded, her teeth chattering from the cold and fear. “Okay.”
    Slowly the girls walked to the gate set in a high brick wall that surrounded Mrs. Larson’s property. The land had been in her family for years, having been owned by the town’s founder, who was Mrs. Larson great-uncle.
    They stood at the ornate wrought iron gate, staring at the twisted trees, overgrown bushes, and weed choked gravel driveway. Gulping, they pushed the gate open; it screeched in protest and a murder of black crows took flight from their hiding places in the trees. There were so many of them, that the sky looked black with stars of gray where the clouds shown through.
    “I don’t want to do this,” Susan whined. “Can’t we just have my dad or someone come up here?”
    “Your dad is at work, and it’ll be dark by the time he gets home,” Taylor said, trying to be brave. “Besides, if we don’t do this now, we won’t be back in time to Trick-or-Treat, and I don’t want to miss that.”
    Susan nodded and took Taylor’s hand in a death grip. They walked together, hand in hand, up the gravel drive to the house that stood on the top of the hill. The stones of the drive crunched under their feet with each step. Their eyes darted about anxiously, expecting some huge monster to come bounding out and gobble them up at any moment.
    Before they knew it, they’d made it to the house, which was an old Victorian made of red brick. Vines grew up the sides, like the fingers of vegetation were trying to grab the house and pull it down into the earth, swallowing it and the inhabitants forever.
    Slowly, they stepped on the wooden steps that led to the house, each one creaked ominously, causing their apprehension to grow. By the time they reached the top, they were both so tense that they moved in short stilted steps toward the door.
    The porch went all the way around the house, so after they knocked tentatively – with no answer – they decided to walk around the corner to see if there was a back door.
    As they went around to the side porch, they saw a light. There was a large window close to the back corner of the house that was like the beacon of a light house to a stormy sea.
    The girls headed for it.
    Kneeling down, they peeked over the windowsill to see what was inside. The room appeared to be a kitchen. Herbs hung from the ceiling on strings, small containers with hand written labels covered every available surface, and a large pot was steaming on the stove.
    Mrs. Larson stepped into the room. Her gray and white hair stuck out from her head at odd angles. As she turned and took something out of a cabinet, they saw that she’d attempted to tame her hair into a bun, but had failed. She wore a calico print dress that looked homemade and old – something that would have been worn twenty or thirty years ago. As she closed the cabinet, she turned to face the window.
    The girls hurriedly ducked down, before slowly peeking in again.
    They hadn’t been seen.
    They watched as Mrs. Larson stirred the contents of the pot, singing to herself. She walked over to a drawer and pulled it open, and that’s when Susan saw it. Tiger’s collar was hanging from the handle of the drawer!
    With a gasp, Susan spun around to sit on her butt, facing away from the house. “She has him. She took Tiger. How are we supposed to get him back? For all we know she’s cooking him right now in that pot!”
    “Shh!” Taylor hissed. “Be quiet. We don’t want to get caught – she’ll probably cook and eat us, too!”
    Just then the window slid open and Mrs. Larson stuck her head out and looked down at them.
    “Hi, girls,” she said in a cracked voice. “Want to come in for something hot to drink?”
    The girls screamed, jumped up, and ran. They were off the porch in moments, down the drive in minutes, and as they passed through, they slammed the gate shut behind them. Only then did they stop to take a breath. Only then did they stop screaming.
    They hurried to Taylor’s house, where they were going to get ready to go Trick-or-Treating. They took turns taking showers, and then they had some soup to warm them up; it did the trick for their bodies, but their minds were still frozen in fear from their experience.
    When they went back upstairs to get ready to go, Susan started to cry.
    “I can’t believe she ate him,” she sobbed. “I loved him so much, and she ate him. It’s just not fair.”
    Taylor hugged her friend. “I know. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. We might as well try to have fun tonight. Maybe some time out with friends will make you feel better.”
    “I don’t know,” Susan sniffed. “I could tell my parents. They could call the police. Isn’t that cruelty to animals or something?”
    “We would have to get evidence for that,” Taylor said thoughtfully. “Maybe if we went back and got the collar, you know, as proof that she took him, then they could do something.”
    Susan shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “I can’t go back there. I’m too scared. She’ll get us this time for sure!”
    “Calm down, calm down,” Taylor sighed and sat down on the bed. “We’ll do it after we’re done Trick-or-Treating. She should be asleep by then. All we have to do is find a way in and take the collar. I bet she doesn’t even lock her doors. I mean, she’s a witch, who would dare try to steal from her? They would probably be cursed for life!”
    Susan nodded, but still looked scared.
    “Let’s get our costumes on,” Taylor said with a soft smile. “We don’t want to be late for the candy!”
    Susan laughed through her tears. “You know. . . We’re getting kinda old for this. How many more years do you think we can get away with candy begging before they stop giving it to us?”
    Taylor grinned. “I plan to try for a couple of years yet. After that, I’ll just start throwing Halloween parties!”
    For the next hour the girls forgot about all their cares as they applied each other’s make-up and dressed in their costumes. This year Susan was a giant teddy bear and Taylor was an undead fairy princess.
    With pumpkin pails in hand, they left to beg for candy. The night flew by with friends they met along the way, and the excitement of seeing everyone’s costumes.
    Before they knew it, they were standing in front of the wrought iron gate, staring up at Mrs. Larson’s house.
    “I don’t want to do this,” Susan said.
    “You want to report her for eating Tiger, don’t you?” Taylor asked.
    “Yes, but I don’t want to go up there again.”
    “What are you two doing?” Miss Nordstrom asked, coming up behind them, dressed as a sexy rock star. “Trick-or-Treat is almost over. The two of you shouldn’t be out here all alone. Something bad might happen to you.”
    The girls looked at each other, wondering if they should tell Miss Nordstrom what was going on. They missed the malicious gleam in her eyes, and the slight smirk that flutter across her face for an instant.
    “Mrs. Larson took Susan’s cat and ate him,” Taylor said. “We saw his collar in her kitchen. Everything is true. She is a witch!”
    “We have to go up there and get his collar,” Susan gushed. “So that we have proof when we tell the police.”
    “Oh, I see,” Miss Nordstrom said. “Do you want me to come with you? You both look scared. . .”
    Taylor and Susan smiled with relief at having an adult to come with them.
    “That would be great,” Taylor said.
    Susan nodded in agreement, too choked up from relief to speak.
    “I have to go and get something from my house first, okay?” Miss Nordstrom said. “You two wait right here.”
    In just minutes, Miss Nordstrom was back, carrying two strings with something attached to them.
    “These are charm bags I had laying around the house,” she explained. “My mom made them for us kids when we would go out on Halloween, to protect us from evil spirits. Kinda like the bag you asked about yesterday, Susan – these are a little different though.”
    She slid one over each girl’s head, to dangle from their necks, over their costumes. They stunk worse than the bag in the parlor had.
    “Where’s yours?” Taylor asked, trying not to gag.
    “I have one in my pocket,” Miss Nordstrom said with a smile. “It’s been in there all night.”
    “Oh, okay,” Susan said, turning her head to try and breathe in some fresh air.
    Together they stepped up to the gate. The two girls hung back a little, thinking about their earlier experience. Miss Nordstrom didn’t have that problem, and pushing it open; it screeched louder than it had earlier, and both girls shuddered.
    Miss Nordstrom looked back over her shoulder. “You two coming?”
    They nodded and followed her inside. The trees and the bushes were even more unnerving in the dark.
    They hadn’t gone very far when Susan started to yawn.
    “I feel so weak and tired,” she said, covering her mouth as she yawned yet again. “Do you mind if we take a break?”
    Taylor was yawning, too. “A break does sound nice.”
    “I agree,” Miss Nordstrom said with a gleeful smile. “Let’s rest. I think I see a bench over there, just past that tree. Why don’t you two go sit down?”
    The girls nodded and stumbled over to the bench, where they sat heavily.
    “Why do I feel so drowsy?” Susan mumbled as she almost fell asleep and would have fallen off the bench if Taylor hadn’t been there to lean on.
    Taylor kept dozing off herself, and would try to startle herself awake again, blinking like an owl and shaking her head.
    Miss Nordstrom watched with amusement. “It’s the charm bags I gave you. They’ll put you to sleep and then I’ll take you home. It’s time for me to do my beauty spell again, and I’ll be needing some parts of young girls for the potion. You two should do nicely. You’re both young and subtle.”
    Susan finally fell asleep and landed in the overgrown grass with a thump.
    Taylor whimpered, still trying to stay awake. “Why are you doing this to us? I thought you were our friend.”
    “I have no friends,” Miss Nordstrom laughed. “I use people and I move on. I’ve been doing it for hundreds of years. Luckily my spells last for a long time, so I don’t have to move too often.”
    “You’re. . . you’re a witch,” Taylor gasped, before she too fell off the bench, sound sleep.

    ~

    Susan woke up slowly; her body was weak and it took effort for her to move. She was surrounded by tall grass and it was dark out. Her head throbbed with a headache – the strangest headache she’d ever had.
    As she sat up, she looked around. There were trees, bushes, and a cement bench, but nothing else. Slowly her mind started to work again, and she remembered where she was and what had happened.
    “Taylor?” she croaked, standing up. Dizziness overtook her and she had to immediately sit down on the bench.
    After the world stopped spinning, she looked around again. Taylor was nowhere in sight, but she could now see a path of flattened grass that led back to the driveway.
    “Miss Nordstrom,” she muttered to herself. “She must have taken her back to her house.”
    Standing again, Susan closed her eyes and willed the dizziness to go away. She needed to find help, and fast. Miss Nordstrom would be back for her soon, and she had to get out of there. She almost panicked when she realized that the closest person to go to for help was Mrs. Larson. The thought of going to that house again still scared her. But the thought of being chopped up and cooked into some kind of potion scared her even more.
    Stumbling and weaving, she made her way up the overgrown drive. She tripped and fell over the weeds multiple times, and by the time she reached the house her knees and her hands were scratched and bleeding.
    She gulped hard before she lifted her foot and forced herself to climb the porch steps. She ran across the porch and up to the door on shaking legs, and knocked – there was no answer.
    She stood there for a moment, thinking maybe she’d just dreamed all this up, when she heard a rustling of leaves and a twig snap behind her. Turning, she saw Miss Nordstrom rushing up the drive.
    Susan pounded on the door with all her strength, yelling, “Help! Help!”
    She glanced behind herself to see Miss Nordstrom just entering the overgrown grass that surrounded the house. As she looked back and prepared to knock on the door again, it opened and she fell inside.
    Mrs. Larson stood over her with her hands on her hips; she was wearing a long, white cotton night gown and her hair was even more wild than it had been before.
    “Can I help you, dear?” Mrs. Larson asked, her voice cracking.
    Susan lay speechless, looking outside at the now empty yard, and then up at Mrs. Larson.
    “Can you talk? Cat got you tongue?”
    At the mention of a cat, Susan’s throat went dry and she feared she’d made the biggest mistake ever coming here. The thought that Mrs. Larson and Miss Nordstrom were both witches and were working together hit her brain like a lightning bolt, making her gasp.
    She began to tremble violently and tears slid down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she lay back on the floor, thinking she was doomed.
    Something cold and wet touched Susan’s ear, and then a rough tongue began licking her cheek. She opened her eyes to see Tiger!
    Forgetting about the women she thought were trying to kill her, she sat up and squealed, picking up the cat to cuddle him close.
    “Ah, so he belongs to you,” Mrs. Larson said with a soft smile. “I found him yesterday – he’d hurt his paw and was lying on my porch.”
    Susan wiped the tears from her face and noticed that Tiger had a white bandage on his left hind leg. He hadn’t been eaten! He’d been rescued!
    “I. . . I thought you ate him,” Susan said softly.
    “No, dear. Why ever would you think that?”
    “I thought you were a witch,” Susan said, blushing and rubbing her now smiling face on Tiger fur.
    “That’s just silly, dear,” Mrs. Larson laughed. “I’m just an old woman who keeps to herself and takes care of injured animals when they come her way. There’s no witches around here!”
    Susan froze and looked up at Mrs. Larson, her eyes huge with fear. “Yes, there is. Miss Nordstrom is a witch. She tricked me and Taylor – she’s my best friend – to wear these charm bags, saying they would protect us. They put us to sleep and she planned to take us to her house and use our body parts to make a potion that would keep her looking young and beautiful! We have to save Taylor! She took her!”
    “Calm down, dear,” Mrs. Larson said. “I’m sure it was just a prank or something. Where’s Taylor now?”
    Susan stood up, still clutching Tiger. “It’s not a prank! I’m telling the truth. We have to call the police. She has Taylor!”
    “Okay, okay, dear,” Mrs. Larson said. “We’ll call the police. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding though.”

    ~

    Dawn was just starting to light the distant horizon as Miss Nordstrom was led out of her house in hand cuffs.
    “We’ve been looking for this one for a long time,” one of the officers said to Taylor’s dad. “She’s been on the FBI’s most wanted list for years. I, myself, have never believed in witches, but this has changed my mind.”
    Taylor was being loaded into the back of an ambulance, to be checked out at the local hospital, although she seemed fine – they’d found her in Miss Nordstrom’s basement, still asleep.
    Upon investigating, they’d also found the charm pouch that Susan had been wearing, laying beside the stone bench. Luckily for her, it had gotten caught on a sharp corner where the cement had eroded and chipped, cutting the string that held it around her neck. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have woken up, and they would never have caught Miss Nordstrom.
    Mrs. Larson walked up to Susan, who was watching all the activity from across the street, wrapped in a fleece blanket. She put her arm around Susan and gave her a hug.
    “You were very brave. If it hadn’t been for you, your friend would have died,” she said.
    Susan smiled up at Mrs. Larson, still holding Tiger in her arms. “I’m glad you’re a nice woman instead of a witch; it’s strange that we had it all mixed up. The real witch pretended to be our friend, and you were just a nice woman we thought was strange. I’m sorry.”
    Mrs. Larson laughed. “Well, now you know that you can’t believe what you hear about people. You just have to meet them and find out for yourself.”
    Susan giggled. “I guess so.”
    “Susan,” her mother called as she walked across the street. “It’s time to go home and get some rest. You’ve had a big night. I’ll take you to visit Taylor at the hospital tomorrow.”
    “Okay, Mom,” Susan said. “Can Mrs. Larson come, too? I’d love for Taylor to meet her. Oh, is that okay with you, Mrs. Larson?”
    Both women laughed.
    “That would be fine with me,” Mom said.
    “I’d love to, dear,” Mrs. Larson said.
    Susan and Mom started walking away when Susan handed Tiger to her mother, and ran back to Mrs. Larson, giving her a hug.
    “Do you think I could come and visit you sometime, and you could teach me about taking care of hurt animals?”
    Mrs. Larson laughed. “I’d like that very much.”

    ~

    Many years later, Susan was locking up her veterinary clinic to go home; she smiled, never tiring of seeing her name on the door. With a content sigh, she turned to walk down the street, heading home.
    She pushed open the gate and started up the well-maintained drive way. The crisp autumn air rustled the orange and red leaves that dangled from the pruned trees. Giggling, she caressed the bushes that were trimmed in the shapes of pumpkins, ghosts, and ghouls. Today was Halloween, and after dark the children would come to her house to Trick-or-Treat. All the orange lights strung in the bushes would light the way to her house. The house on the top of the hill. The one she’d bought from Mrs. Larson – the woman who’d nurtured her passion for animals, and had been an inspiration to her life.
    Standing at the bottom of the steps, she looked up at the house that had once scared her, which was now a place of warmth and friendship.        
    “Happy Halloween,” she whispered, and went inside to put on her costume, knowing Taylor would be there soon to help her pass out candy.



Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser, 2010-2012. All rights reserved.