A Witch Amongst Us

The old man grew more concerned the longer Sam had talked. He shook his head, not wanting to listen to any more of the young boy’s nonsense.

“We aint doing this, Sam” he finally blurted out, stopping the kid mid-sentence.

“But why, Mr. Picket?!” he replied, “I aint breaking no law by sneaking into their barn. For all we know THEY are breaking the laws”, he whined.

“Sneaking into someone else’s property and breaking into their barn IS breaking the law, Sam” snapped old man Picket, “Now get your little feet back to shoveling that mulch around. I aint paying you $5 dollars for nonsense” he told the boy.

Old man Picket watched the boy huff and puff towards the mulch wagon. He took off his hat in the tiredness of it all, tired about hearing the young boy’s vampire talk.

True the owners supposedly came out at night only.

True people have heard strange things from their barns.

And true they’re paler that the butt of a white onion.

People can be strange without being a vampire, thought Tom Picket. He figured they were city folks.

Old Man Picket had heard more noises that night from the neighboring farm. Something of a mix between a moaning cow and a restless goat.

For a moment he thought about what Sam had suggested about going over there and taking a look. He shook the idea out of his head. We farmers had a quiet rule between all of us to respect and keep to our own lands. He wouldn’t entertain the thought one bit. Sleep finally began to give way and the old man fell drowsy to those quiet noises coming from the barn.

Several loud knocks echoed into the house that following morning. If there was something Picket hated it was to be woken up. If the neighbors ever carried a rooster, then he would have surely shot it by now.

He dragged himself out of bed, putting on yesterday’s clothes, before finally getting to the door and opening it.

“Tom Picket?” asked a uniformed officer. The young man looked to be in his mid-twenties. He’s probably new to the force, thought Mr. Picket.

“Yes sir, that I am” replied Picket, not hiding the annoyance of being woken up.

The young officer took out a picture of a young boy. A small feeling of fear crawled up the old man’s back.

“Sam Wiggens” old man Picket said in awe, “What the hell is going on?”. A strange feeling began to clog his throat.

“May I come in?” asked the officer after the brief moment of silence.

Picket didn’t say anything. He felt he couldn’t. He nodded and let the young man through.

Officer Wallis Perry had said the boy didn’t come home last night, and no one seemed to know where he was. It was unusual for something like that to happen around this small community of farmers.

The old man couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“The Barn on Patten’s old property” he finally said, “Sam was talking about sneaking into it yesterday”.

The officer perked up at the lead, “Why is that?” he asked, now scribbling onto his note pad.

A moment’s hesitation paused the conversation before Picket finally answered.

“The silly boy thought them new folks were…well, vampires”

The officer stopped writing and looked at the old farmer in all seriousness.

Picket held his hands up, “That’s what the boy believed...” he said.

Officer Perry started writing again, hesitantly and slowly as he wrote the world v-a-m-p-I-r-e onto his notepad.

They both talked for about thirty minutes before Officer Perry finally closed his notebook. He’s asked everything he needed to about Old Man Picket’s ware bouts and when he last saw Sam.

“Well, that leaves us one place to go” he said.

Old man Picket nodded and remained seating as the officer headed for the door.

The young man stopped and looked back as if expecting something.

“I did say US, Mr. Picket,” gesturing the man to follow.

“Why the hell am I going?” the old man snapped back.

The officer looked at him, “Because Sam was working with you, and you were the last to see him alive. Both of you chatting about going to the barn”.

Old man Picket waved his hand, “Call one of your other young officers, I aint going,” he replied.

Officer Perry didn’t budge.

“You’re either going to join me, or sit in the back of my car in handcuffs, Mr. Picket,” said the officer.

The old man grumbled and pouted, something similar to what Sam had done to him yesterday.

He got up and followed the officer out the door.

They didn’t drive far. Down the road out of his driveway. Left onto the main street then a left again down the neighbor’s driveway.

There it was. The neighbor’s house coming closer and closer to view. Old man Picket didn’t like being here. He had only met these neighbors once on a community farming night. An orientation for new neighbors.

When the officer pulled up to the house, they both noticed a man standing on the front porch holding a shotgun.

Officer Perry took out a little microphone and spoke into it- broadcasting his voice from the car.

“I know you aren’t stupid, put the gun down” he called out.

“Maybe he IS stupid,” said Picket.

A questionable minute passed by before the man laid the gun down.

Officer Perry told Picket to stay inside the car for a moment before getting out and talking to the man.

Brief glances were made towards Mr. Picket and after a few minutes the officer waved Picket over and they walked towards the barn.

“What did he say about Sam?” whispered Picket as he walked just behind the officer.

It was unsure if the officer heard him or was ignoring him.

The old man kept an eye on the quiet man leading them. He figured the stranger to be a farm-handler, helping the owners around.

Something in the way the handler walked or didn’t talk gave old man Picket goosebumps. Occasionally the stranger would look back to see if we were still following.

The man was expressionless.

If Sam did come here at night, and was found by this guy… Well old man Picket didn’t want to think about it.

They arrived to the barn where the farm-handler took out a key to unlock the chains that held the doors closed.

Officer Perry didn’t say a world at all, but just watched the handler fiddle with the chains, unlashing them from the barn.

The smell of searing metal had rushed up their noses- a sour, chemical-like, pungent odor that couldn’t find a point of reference to anything they knew.

Their eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness inside, now seeing large sculpture in the middle.

A black crystal almost six feet in height and four feet in width formed the base. Forming out from the top of it was a statue of a woman, like she was crawling out from it- petrified in a metal form reaching nearly five more feet up.

“…A very odd sculpture” said Officer Perry glaring deeply at it.

He was not alone in the aweness of it. It was equally strange as it was mesmerizing. It was almost like the statue was luring you in.

Picket followed the officer as he walked towards the strange art. The closer they got, the more they could see the finer details.

Picket could see it now- the odd black crystal was shaped like black flames, and the woman’s expression was as if she was burning in it.

“A witch” spoke the farm-handler. The first words Picket had heard the man say.

The old man looked behind him and realized that the handler was staring at him with an uncomfortable intensity.

Something hard had formed in Picket’s throat. A surge of panic crawled from his gut. He turned towards Officer Perry.

“Why are we here?” asked the old man in a shaky voice, “Where’s Sam?”.

The officer in front of him didn’t say anything, just glared at the statue as if seeing something that no one else could.

Picket walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder, “I don’t like being in here,” he told him.

The officer remained silent.

Picket turned him around and saw his eyes- no pupils. His eyes were completely black.

Old man picket stumbled back in fright, falling over a chunk of hay on the ground.

The barn doors behind him clashed shut. Picket looked back in fright to see that the handler was now tightening the chains, locking them inside.

Picket looked back at the officer to realize that the man was now hovering over him.

“Please…please don’t” whimpered the old man.

A black bile dripped out of the officer’s mouth. His expression unchanged as if he was in a trance.

Picket then noticed the statue, behind the officer, was now exhuming a black smoke.

Officer Perry took out his gun.

Old man picket closed his eyes and suddenly a darkness consumed him.

Sam remained hidden in the shadows of the barn, witnessing the events that just took place. The police officer shot himself, and old man Picket disappeared when the black smoke touched him.

The statue remained still and quiet.

Sam witnessed a similar event with that same smoke, happening the night before when he snuck under the loose boards. It was coming on sunset now and he figured it was time to run, but fear held him firm. He needed to go, but the statue... everything in his body thought the statue would notice him.

Suddenly the chains locking the barn rattled. Someone was coming.

Sam quickly piled more hay around him, covering himself with heaps of it as the figures entered.

It was the farm handler and two hooded figures. The pale folks, Sam knew.

Last night they weren’t wearing any robes when they dragged that man in.

“What a waste,” the pale man spoke, taking off his hood under the shade of the barn.

The man walked over to the dead officer, turning the man over with his foot.

“She didn’t consume him” he finished.

The pale woman walked to the statue and began to caress it with her hand. Her head was close enough where Sam thought she was trying to listen to the statue whisper to her.

“It matters not. Tonight is the gathering for the local farmers. The Witch will have her fill. Only a few more souls needed to come back”.

The handler and the pale man walked beside the statue and all of them knelt around the so-called Witch. Each bowed their heads as if praying.

It was quiet. Sam tried to hold his breath under the hay. The boy began hearing small sounds around him. He looked began seeing snakes and rats crawling toward the statue- more than he’s ever seen before.

A wave of fright surged through him when a rattlesnake suddenly slithered over his head on its way to the statue.

“Serpents…” whispered a weary voice in the air.

This was the first time Sam had heard the voice. The statue began glowing red.

“They tell me he’s under the hay…”

Sam’s eyes shot wide as the pale couple and handler suddenly turned their heads towards him, looking into Sam’s very eyes.

Adrenaline shocked him into movement. He jumped out, shaking off the remaining rats and snakes around him, and ran for the loose boards. The handler raced for his gun and the two pale folks ran after him.

The sun was still out as he kept running. Gun shots blasted around him.

The pale couple who nearly grabbed the boy on his escape shuddered violently as the sun touched their skin- hiding them back within the shadows of the barn.

Sam’s mind raced in all directions. Go to the police. Go to his parents. Leave Town. That Witch-statue could possess them all.

He kept on running and panting, fearing the pale folks and handler were right on his heels.

Sam’s foot suddenly clipped on a small stone and he trampled over.

His breath tried to get ahead of itself as he turned around with his hands up, but no one grabbed him.

Sam opened his eyes to see no one around. They weren’t chasing him. He took a few moments to calm himself down.

A Witch they said. Sam had never heard of the word before. He didn’t know what other things the statue could be capable of.

Sam turned his head and saw he was next to town.

He needed to find out more about what that thing was.

The librarian had watched the boy take about a dozen books on witches and fairytales- fictional stories and mythology, as well as some books on something called “The Salem Witch Trials”. He sat down and began scrolling through each, trying to find a reference to that witch-statue.

“Hey kid,” said a voice.

Sam looked up and saw a bearded man dressed like an explorer. Indiana Jones came to mind. He had never seen the man before, and it was a small town where he recognized everyone.

“It’s curious to see a young boy with so many books on witches…,” said the man.

Sam didn’t reply.

“Unless he saw something,” he said as he sat down across from him.

The man leaned in, “You mind telling me what your up to?” he said.

Sam gulped, “A witch- statue” he finally replied.

The stranger smiled as if he had found the answer he’s been waiting for. “Let me guess- two pale folks also?”.

Sam’s eyes widened and the man continued...

It was nearing 8:30 PM and Walter Vine arrived at the barn already seeing his fellow farmers get out of their cars and mingle. They were at annual farms community gathering and this year the new city folks agreed to host. Walter parked his truck and walked to a few of his neighbors.

“Walter Vine, you made it” said Jones, the farmer two houses down from his.

“I never NOT made it to a community gathering” replied Walter, shaking the man’s rough and blistered hands.

The speaker outside the barn suddenly sparked to life.

“Good evening” it announced, “Please make your way inside the barn for the beginning of the conference”.

Walter followed Jones as they all began walking inside.

“I wonder where our hosts are?” asked Jones, but the crowd’s conversation was too loud for Watler to hear him.

He walked closer to Walter, “Say…Where’s old man Picket? That grumpy old man loves to make himself heard in these gatherings”.

Another farmer seemed to have over-heard the question and his expression shot up in delight. He walked over to the two.

“You haven’t heard?” said the man named Tom.

Walter and Jones looked at Tom in curiosity as they made their way inside. As Jones picked at Tom to find out the news, Walter noticed a strange object shrouded in a cloth in the middle of the barn. For some reason he couldn’t understand, a small shiver ran up his spine.

“Heard he got arrested,” said Tom.

Walter looked at them, now ignoring the mysterious object.

“Not a chance. We talking about Picket? He’s a town favorite,” said Walter as Jones shook his head in disbelief.

Farmer Tom smiled. In such a small town it was rare gift to know something others didn’t. He paused to take in the pride of it all.

“Last I heard,” began Tom, now leaning in to a loud whisper, “A police officer went to arrest him this morning”.

“For what?” asked Jones.

“Young Sam has gone missing, and he was last seen with old man Picket”.

Jones and Walter stood in wonder, curiously wrapping their head on what they had just heard.

Before either could reply a loud crackle filled up the room as the speaker sparked to life again.

“Attention Farmers of the Town Meager” spoke a voice.

Suddenly the barn doors shut closed and a shrouded figure on the other side clasped chains around the handle.

“What the hell is going on!?” a man in the crowd yelled.

More voices began to protest when a pale woman suddenly walked past the crowd towards the shrouded object.

Without warning gunshots fired near the entrance.

The barn door blasted open and everyone began running in all directions then finding their way to the exit, not noticing a man and kid was running inside.

The pale woman’s eyes were enraged to see everyone suddenly flee out the door. She began running towards the statue in hopes to uncover the witches gaze, but before she could take it off, a bullet pierced her arm.

Sam followed the witch-hunter, McGregor, towards the pale woman he shot.

“Eric McGregor,” said the pale woman, wincing in pain. Her breath was heavy and tiresome.

“I told you I’ll find out” he replied as he took out a small necklace with a strange symbol on it.

The woman’s eyes recognized the relic of the witch-hunter. He means to destroy the statue here and now, she knew.

Gunshots suddenly raced around the room, barely missing Sam who ran to find cover behind the pillars.

McGregor shot several times at the pale man who was finding cover near the entrance to the barn.

Sam then noticed the woman by the statue. She sliced her hand with knife she took out from her robe. The woman began whispering to the cut.

Sam remembered what the witch-hunter had said in the library. Some of the servants of the witch could sacrifice themselves to the statue and it would gain another soul. According to the information McGregor had, the statue only needed a few more souls to revive itself.

Sam looked at McGregor who was in a heated gun shot battle with the man.

There was no time.

Sam swallowed hard, pushing the fear back into his stomach and began running over to the woman who was now crawling to the statue.

Bullets grazed by him as he ran.

The woman had slithered over to the statue and was now lifting the bottom of the cloth to put her bloody hand onto it.

Sam jumped forward reaching his hand out.

It was too late.

Just as he grabbed her hand, the woman’s fingertips grazed the statue.

Waves of black smoke lashed from underneath the cloth, lifting the veil violently away.

Sam looked up in fright as he saw the statue, looking into the witch’s angry eyes.

Darkness then consumed him.

Sam opened his eyes… and saw a world the witch-hunter had told him about.