The Witch's Curse Part Four

            Maybe it was the stress from being understaffed at work… yet again. Maybe it was the frustration from sitting in traffic for forty-five minutes to go two miles to her exit because some idiot flipped his car after cutting off a semi-truck. Pick a fight with a semi, and the semi is going to win. Then again, maybe she had just grown complacent in her indifference toward other people. Whatever the reason, the didn’t think much of it, when she accused the old lady of breaking into her car, and she didn’t give much credence to her story of an honest mistake, and the same model and color, and blah, blah, blah. She was obviously another homeless bum, trying to make a quick buck off of whatever she could pawn. And she certainly didn’t expect to see the old woman standing in front of her house that night when she glanced out her window.

Frightened by the unexpected sight, and worried she’ll try to break in, the woman quickly checks to see if all of the doors are locked. With her phone ready to call the police if the lady steps foot on her property she goes back to the window to keep an eye on her. But when she looks out, the woman is gone. She checks the back windows, but the yard is empty. Maybe she left, she thinks to herself.

“You would be so lucky,” a voice from behind her cackles.

The woman turns around to see the old lady standing in her kitchen. “How did you get in here?” she asks.

“Child,” the old woman croaks, “you couldn’t even imagine the things I am capable of. But fear not, I am not going to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you earlier,” the woman tries to explain. “It was an honest mistake. Anyone would have thought the same thing in my position.”

“You did not believe me, so tell me why I should believe you.”

“I’m sorry. Please, just take whatever you want and leave me alone.”

“You lack trust. Even now, you distrust me. Even after I assured you I would not hurt you. Let me assure you, it will be your own undoing if you do not learn to trust in others.”

“Okay, okay. I trust you. Now please, just go.”

“Your fate is in your own hands, dear, as well as those of this man.” The old woman waves a hand and the visage of a man appears.

“Who is that? And what does he have to do with me?”

“Your lives are now connected, and you will have to trust in him as you do in yourself. His fate is your own. If he lives, you live. But if he dies, you die. Can you trust your life to another?”

“Wait, I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do. Trust in him and you will have nothing to fear.”

“But,” the woman starts, but the old lady is gone. She stands there for quite some time, alone in the kitchen staring at the now absent face of the man she must trust, and thus begins the first of many sleepless nights to come. Who is this man? She must know. She must find him.

-AMS