The Coven

Middle class suburban Maryland was not the sort of place you'd expect to find a coven of witches. Or a ring of underwear thieves. Or both at the same time.

I was in high school and it was summer break. The parents of friends had asked if I could housesit for a week, watch their 12-year old son and take care of their small dog. I had a full-time job during the week, but the son was taking summer school. I would walk him to class in the morning, and then go on to my job. After work, I'd head back to their place, prepare dinner, and make sure the kid did his homework and went to bed at a reasonable hour.

I was having trouble sleeping that summer. My senior year and college admissions were looming and I didn't know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go to university. I obsessed over my test scores. Were they high enough to get me into the schools I wanted to go to? Which school did I want to go to? Did I even want to go right now? What about taking a year off and travelling? Would I miss out on a getting into a good school?

So I would take the dog and go for a late-night walk about 10 or 11 pm.

Walking calmed my mind and tired my body, so I was ready to sleep when I got back to the house. I would usually walk until I started to yawn, which was a few miles.

I took a long, winding route through the green, suburban neighborhood and look at all the houses with their sleeping occupants and wish I were one of them. Occasionally, there was one house with a light on. I commiserated with the poor devil who was up late working or studying, or was insomniac like me.

The dog hadn't been getting much exercise that summer and was out of shape. The first few times I went for my late-night walks, I had to carry him back the last stretch. He would get puffed, and lie down and refuse to move anymore. Luckily, he was small and light.

The middle daughter, *Babs, came back a few days before her parents returned. She didn't want to stay alone in the house, so I stayed on.

I came back from work on the Saturday evening, made dinner for the others and then started to get ready to walk about 10.30 pm.

As I hunted for the dog's lead, and grabbed his collar, Babs looked up where she was watching TV. "Are you walking the dog? It's pretty late," she asked me.

"This is my sleep remedy," I told her. "When I get back, I'll be tired and ready for bed."

Turns our she couldn't sleep either, and asked if she could go with me.

We wandered for a few miles, around quiet suburban streets, talking softly, as if we might wake sleeping people in the houses we passed.

Then we walked along one street, and came around a bend. One particular house on that street had all the lights blazing and the front door was open.

A group of teen girls sat on the front lawn, in a circle. They each had a lit candle in front of them. In the middle, was a great pile of ... men's underwear. I mean, this pile was massive. It came up to about my waist. I realized, staring at it, that there must be hundreds of pairs in the pile. All white.

The whole montage was just so unexpected, that I stopped abrubtly, and Babs bumped into me. She must have seen me staring, and looked in the same the direction.

"Wait, is that ....." she asked, breaking off.

"Looks like underwear," I said.

"Is that men's underwear?" she asked, an incredulous tone in her voice.

"I think so, yes," I answered.

The front door slammed and I looked up at the house.

A girl came out of the house and was walking down the front path towards the group. When she caught sight of us, she halted abruptly. She glared over at the two of us standing frozen in the street.

I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

The other girls turned to see what she was looking at and saw us.

"This is creepy," whispered Babs.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "This group of girls. They're like a ....

"A coven!" said Babs, excitedly.

"Oh, my God, yes," I said. "You're right. They make me think of a coven."

We'd been studying the Salem witch trials in school. I wondered if some of my fellow students were taking their studies a little more seriously than I was.

"Let's get out of here," I whispered back.

"We have every right to be here, it's a public street," said Babs indignantly (who would go on to become a lawyer,)

"Let's just go," I said softly, taking her arm and leading her away. "This is too weird."

We walked quickly down the street. I kept glancing back at the girls, who watched us go in silence, until we finally turned a corner and passed out of sight.

The following night, my last at my friends' house, I walked the same route and found the "The Witch House" (as I thought of it now). It was dark and silent. No lights were on at all. In the front yard, a large circle of burned grass stood out. Of the hundreds of pairs of men's underwear, there was no sign.

For the next few days, I pored over the Washington Post, looking for any mention of underwear. About a week later, I found what I was looking for. A tiny article mentioned briefly that DC police were puzzled by a series of shoplifting incidents that had occurred over prior weeks. Thieves had taken numerous packs of men's underwear from area department stores. Just men's underwear. And only white ones. The police estimated that hundreds of pairs had been stolen. They were baffled.

For many years, Babs and I had this secret code. One of us would look at the other and say, "Underwear," and wink. And the other would reply, "The coven," and wink back.

All this happened in 1978, in the early days of the internet and pre-search engines. I didn't keep the WashPost article and I've never been been able to find any mention of massive underwear thefts in Washington, D.C. circa 1978.

I've long stopped obsessing over this mystery. It will never be solved.

**

*Not her real name