The Witch Of The Yellowcrestvill

#ShortStory #3

As the sun gazed down upon the Yellowcrestvill, the winds sang the songs of the birds, the cornfields danced and smiled with a gleam and people rejoiced in the abundance of wealth and happiness. And it all seemed to be too good from the eyes of the raven that shadowed from above.

Yellowcrestvill, a small village that once took pride in its success and wealth was brought down to its knees by the recent deaths caused by the plague of unknown origin. The village chief had organized the assembly to discuss further upon the matter.

At noon, people gathered around the old willow tree at the village centre, and the chief stood tall upon the bench that was built around the tree.

"Here, we all have gathered to discuss. The recent deaths have shaken us all, but I assure you all, that there is nothing to worry about. I am sure the doctors have some explanation ?" the chief said, as he assured the crowd to provide the sense of hope.

There were not many doctors in the village, just one. The doctor came forward on the chief's call and stood beside him, "Right now, it is too early to speak on the cause. I have sent the samples to Westwood Town, and it will not be until the next few weeks that we will hear from them. I advise you all to avoid any contact with the people outside the village. If anyone feels sick, they should seek medical help immediately," the doctor said.

The tension grew on the faces of people after what they heard from the doctor. The voice of the speaker faded as the crowd started murmuring, and from the back, came the voice of an elderly woman. "You are a too young to speak of it, doctor, this old woman has seen the deaths of the similar kind more than once," the woman said. "The village is cursed, and I am afraid that the witch has returned back" she added. "Yes, indeed, I have seen the ravens, the omen is upon us," said the other old man, agreeing to the woman. "Oh, dear God, protect us!" the young voice uttered from the crowd.

The assembly was soon dismissed to avoid the spread of rumours.

But the words were out, it got spread like the fire among the rest of the village. The fear paved in the hearts of the people as it reminded them of a distant past. The noisy lane of the local market near the village centre slowly turned quiet as the daylight slipped into the dark. Over the next few days, the scape of the Yellowcrestvill changed like never seen before.

People decorated their homes with religious symbols and hung the colourful hanging outside the doors, believed to protect them from evil.

Prayers were chanted at the time of dawn and dusk. People strictly avoided to venture out in the night and would return home from their work and from their farms before the twilight.

And still, all of this could not prevent the sound of the ambulance and the cries of neighbours that could be heard in the midnight.

The situations became more serious, day by day, but it did not stop Lee from following his routine. Lee is a young man, in his 30s probably, and an active member of Yellowcrestvill. He was not bothered about the witch or the curse, or the plague, partly because he had nothing to lose. He stayed alone with his father, in a house that was big enough for two. His father was battling cancer and may live a few days, a few months, or so the doctors say. Like any morning, Lee would get ready, put on his checkered shirt and the farm pants, and before he walked out, he would pick his straw hat that hanged on the wall beside the doors.

On his farm, Preston helped Lee on his daily chores. He is a young boy in his teens, but he is as responsible as an adult would be. Working with Lee allowed him to meet his ends, while he also gets to learn the nitty-gritty of the farming.

"Boy, need you to load these bales up," Lee said, as he parked his old dusty white tractor parallel to the hayloft doors. "As you say, sir," Preston said, tipping his hat slightly. They started to unload the wagon, one bale at a time, moving it to the elevator which was attached to the loft. It is a tedious job indeed, it took them a while.

"And; it's done! Good work, " said Lee, as he moved the final bale. They rested temporarily and resumed the work again, there is always something to work on the farm.

Lee owned a horse, which he kept in the stall in the barn. He would feed the horse thrice a day, in the morning, in the noon and once before he leaves for home. "Should I also add some grain to the feed?" Preston asked. "Not too much," Lee replied. "Horses need roughages more, if some grains are added then it's fine but not necessary," said Lee.

Before heading home, Lee often visited the lake not very far from the farm. He would sit there for a while on a very particular rock, smoke his cigar and see the sun going down and colours of the sky change with it. Only a handful of people dared to stay near the lake this time of the day, which included Lee, Preston and a few fishermen who were waiting for their last catch.  Lee followed his usual routine, but for Preston, skipping stones was more relaxing activity.

"Boy, do you see there?" said Lee, pointing towards something beyond the lake.

"The wild tree ?" Preston asked.

"Beyond the lake, can you see the small hut, near the tall wild tree ?"

"Yes"

"They say the witch once lived there before she vanished," Lee said.

Preston already knew the story, but he pretended like he did not, "We should visit there someday" he said.

"Nah, let's head home, come on, it's getting dark," Lee said.

He reached home and checked his father, then prepared the dinner, fed him, and gave him the medicine. After all the hard work he did in the fields and at home, sleep was not something that would come easy for Lee. He struggled, he often thought about his mother, why she left him alone in this world? Why would she leave him for the love of another man?. He did not have any memories of his mother, a picture is all he ever had. The night rolled into a day as Lee rolled on the thorns bed.

The next morning, there was a loud noise which came from the other room. Lee woke up with a sick head and hastened to investigate what caused it, his father had fallen off the bed, it seems he was trying to reach for something. Lee supported his father's arm to help him to get up on the bed.

"Son, the day will come, when I will pass like the time passes, forever. For you, my brave boy, I have a will." said his father.

"There will never be such time, I will save you," said Lee.

"If you respect me, you will respect my will, son, I have something that I wanted to give you before I die."

For Lee, it was heartbreaking to hear this, his shoulder could not bear the weight of his father's words, he remained silent.

"Beyond the lake, there is a small hut near the wild tree, they call it witch's hut. 4 feet from the front door of the hut, you must dig," his father said.

"I am not sure what you are talking about dad, you should rest," said Lee. "No, son, listen carefully. You reach there, and you must dig at least 3 feet wide and 7 feet long and deep not more than 4 feet. And you must promise me not more than 4 feet." his father said. "But, dad?" said Lee.

"Promise me, son,"

"What you are talking about, what is going on, now is not the time, "Lee said, for a second he thought he was still dreaming, so he pinched himself. His father continued "There you will find a chest or a box, and if you don't find one you must call me and inform.".

Lee left for the farm, he did not give any serious thought about what happened in the morning. He blamed it on his father's age and did not care to think about it again. Few days passed, Preston insisted Lee, to come with him and explore the witch house which inturn reminded Lee about his father's will.

"hmm, before we go there, pick up some tools," said Lee.

"Tools? for what?"

"Don't ask me, I am not even sure, bring the tape, shovel and a hoe from the Barn, and also a torch, " Lee said.

"Okay!" Preston replied in a confused manner.

They crossed the lake in a local fisherman's boat which they hired.

The witch's hut was not more than a few minutes walk from the lake. They arrived there, the place was old and rusty, and the floor engulfed with dry leaves, slugs, dirt and faeces of rodents, maybe mice and it smelled terrible like an armpit of a bear who has been sleeping for many days.

"We should not have come here, yuck," Preston said before he puked.

"I thought so, but had my father not wished I would not have brought you here," said Lee, handing over the water to Preston, "Now, if you are done, clean up, we have some work".

"What is it, here?" Preston asked.

Lee measured from the front door, 4 feet like his father explained. He brushed with his fingers 3 feet wide and 7 feet long area.

"What are you doing? " Preston asked, he did not wish to stay.

"Will you help me if I told you my father has buried some kind of treasure here, it is his will," Lee replied.

Lee started to plough the soil with a hoe, and Preston helped him move it using the shovel. They dug the ground for hours, and to keep the promise of his father, Lee measured the depth frequently. They took short pauses in between for breathing and wiping off the sweat and then they would continue again. They dug as Lee's father had described, 4 feet deep and not an inch more than that, but they were left disappointed in the end. They did not find any chest or any box and anything else there. Lee called his father and informed him about his findings.

"Well, you did what you could, son. Come back home, I need you" his father replied. His father's tone worried him, so they rushed back.

But it was already too late for Lee, the tragedy had befallen him.

He arrived home and found his father lying still on the floor, blood dripping off his wrist, his body curled up like a child, sleeping forever. He hastened towards him, and he softly rested his father's head on his shoulder. "Wake up, I am back, I am here now, please dad," Lee said, as he sobbed and hugged his father. He called the ambulance service and waited for them.

The paramedic team arrived soon, and as they carried his father on a stretcher, a note slipped through his hand, it read,

"Son, I am sorry, I have disappointed you your whole life. I am sorry, I disappointed you now. There are many things that I have not told you about, there are many confessions to make. I have been living a life for far too long that I did not deserve. There is truth to be told, and I have been carrying the burden of it. Before I die of cancer, I needed to inform you about your mother. The grave that I told you to dig, is the grave that I wish for myself. It is where I buried your mother 30 years back. There was never a witch, but your mother, who lived alone in that hut. She was a healer, who was unfortunate enough to fall in love with me. But I was foolish and young back then, I never tried to understand her art, in fact, I thought it was sorcery, and so did the whole village. They had exiled her for being kind and helping the sick in the village. When the plague hit the village, they all blamed me for bringing her back and forced me to end this for once. They blamed her for the plague as if she had put all their lives in danger. You were too small, just a year old. And I was too unwise, and unlearned to understand and see beyond the fallacy.

She was a strong woman, who kept arguing, trying to explain to us, but none could see her point. We were blinded by the superstition.

That night I ended her while she was asleep, suffocated her to death.

I am unforgiven forever now, that is why I had to make sure of my grave before I ended my life. I wanted to meet your mother, and tell her how much wrong I was, how much sorry I am."