The Wild Eyed Witch



The old hag stumbled around in her worn down cottage.  Her determination to finish the magic was of pure passion.  The cauldron bubbled and glooped as she went looking around desperately for some ingredients.

Her hair was withered and white, her eyes rolling around crazily.  She looked under old pots and pans, searching through ash and soot.  She found it!  She cackled hard and loud.

It was a jar of clear liquid.  She was about to put it in the cauldron.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Said a small voice behind her. She grinned evil and narrowed her eyes to the side.

“Conarght!” She turned “Always a pleasure!” She bowed respectfully.

A little man no taller that a foot stood near the doorway. His Brown beard making him look wizened and a red hat that struck out against the night.

“And the same to you Margharta!” He looked at the jar “and..ah…what would ye be needing that for?” He nodded at the item.

“Oh this! Well I’m using it for my health, dear friend!” She screeched and guffawed.

“You truly are insane” he muttered under his breath, she didn’t notice.

“You know that’s not meant for the likes of you! It’s the sap of the Hawthorne tree!” He sighed “when will you mortals realise?”

The witch slyly looked around, she slowly danced inbetween the ruined braces of the cottage.

“But we both know I’m no mortal, don’t we? My wee saviour!  I’ve been this way for a hundred years” She hissed “it’ll be fine! No worse than what I am!” She snarled and stormed back to the cauldron.

“Please don’t, you don’t know what will happen!” Conarght pleaded.

The witch unpopped the lid, looked at Conarght while the liquid fell out, about to go in. It didn’t go in, what happened was it turned direction in the air. Safely away.

The witch cursed at him, the leprechaun remained steadfast.

“Don’t be meddling in things your not supposed to!” He warned poking his finger at her “that Hawthorne tree is not to be touched!”

With that he left and the witch was alone. She hated him, always meddling in her affairs.  She grabbed the bottle again but found it replaced with a beer bottle.

She screamed blue murder for the whole night, even conarght heard it two miles down the road as he entered the portal to his home in that Hawthorne tree.

Somehow he knew she would try again.

He would stop her.

Always.

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