This week Michael asks us to consider the Fairy Tale genre and compose a tale about a Wicked Witch.
Is your witch wicked in the true sense or is she just misunderstood?
Sybil had been around for ever. Her garden was always immaculate, yet she didn’t have a gardener or seem to do anything in it herself. The house was always top notch too, sparkly windows regardless of the weather, perfectly aligned curtains, and the door knocker ……
oh my, it was polished to such a shine that it put the sun very much in the shade.
Sybil kept herself to herself though, and because of that, whispers and rumours ran rife round the town.
Mrs Reilly at Number 6 was the worst. She’d been widowed for about twenty years and blamed Sybil entirely.
‘If that witch hadn’t given him the eye, he’d still be with me,’ she bitched.
In truth, Sybil had done no such thing, just a hearty good morning over the fence each morning when he was coming back from collecting the daily paper. Mr Reilly had been hit by a car one morning and died at the scene outside Sybil’s house.
She had a cat then, a ginger tom called Morris, after the car in which she’d found it, bedraggled, sick and starving. No-one knew what happened to Morris, but when it was noticed he was no longer there, Sybil had also retreated into her inner sanctuary.
The kids gave her house a wide berth, especially at Halloween as thanks to Mrs Reilly and her crones, parents were afraid their children would be turned into newts or toads. If they’d knocked on her door, she would have offered candy and other treats those first few years, but now the bowl sat empty, but dust free, on the shelf.
Sybil actually hated her life.
She was lonely and friendless, but went about her daily business as a matter of routine.
On her 50th birthday, she decided enough was enough, and donned her best outfit, spent some time on her personal appearance, and set off down the road.
That was where I came in. I was looking for an assistant and Sybil walked into my shop.
I discovered she had a wicked sense of humour, but she was good company, and I hired her more or less on the spot.
I was amazed at her aptitude, appetite for work, and organisation skills.
Within a few months, my business was thriving, and attitudes towards her began to change.
‘I don’t know how you did it, but thank you!’
She smiled and touched her nose with a well manicured finger.
‘Not all witches are bad,’ she said.