The Enchanted Parchment Wrapped Box

An old decrepit cabin creeks eerily on the outskirts of a dark dreary woods, it's as if it breathes with life of its own. Windchimes jingle as they dance in the frigid morning breeze. A black crow is perched atop a post out front, his ominous stare alludes to danger to come. Four boys creep slowly towards the cabin, crisp autumn leaves crunch lightly below their feet as they apprehensively make their way closer. Hiding behind a grove of trees, they peak out to inspect the house cautiously.

Rumor has it the cabin was home to a Witch. A real life, spellcasting, potion making, soul sucking Witch. Stories of horrific rituals and evil hexes she had cast in times that have passed were spread all over their tiny town, although she had never been seen in the light of day. This foursome was known for pulling their own malicious tricks to tempt the Witch from her home to catch a glimpse for themselves. These heinous acts included leaving a bag of flaming poo on her doorstep, decorating the cabin and trees in toilet paper, pinning a dead rabbit to the post in front of her home, and setting fire to the oak trees surrounding her home. Each attack they hid in the distance, sometimes waiting for hours, but she never emerged from her lair.

Determined to lure her out, they were inspired on this brisk morning of All Hallows Eve. After all, it was a Witch’s favorite holiday, right?

The eldest boy, Harold, acts as the leader of the pack. He declares confidently, “Someone should go up to the door and just knock, you know, just get it over with… I don’t think there’s really a Witch in there anyways, probably just some old Crone withering away to dust. What’s the worst that could happen?”

His brother Isaac blurts out, “Umm I don’t know, we could DIE?!”

Their younger cousin Felix shouts, “Not it!”

They all look to the youngest boy, Timmy, who is frozen with fright. Timmy is not related to the three but their parents are friends and they have grown up together. Always feeling like a fourth wheel, he was often the brunt of their jokes. Little Timmy was terrified of the Witch’s house and very much did not enjoy partaking in their shenanigans, but the trio were his only “real” friends. Desperate for their approval, he reluctantly tagged along despite the pit in his stomach telling him it was wrong to torment or cause harm to anyone, especially a supposed Witch.

Seeing the panic in Timmy’s eyes, Harold coyly taunts, “No worries, Wittle Baby Timmy. We wouldn’t force you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with... Maybe hanging out with us older boys is just too much for you. If you’re too scared, you can always just go home and we will find a real friend who’s brave enough to help us.”

Timmy hesitates for a moment as he peeks over his shoulder at the cabin. He gulps, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat. Fighting back tears, his voice shakes as he proclaims, “I’m not scared, of course I will help you... friends”

Harold grins, his plan worked.

Timmy slowly makes his way to the cabin, his heart pounding out of his chest with each step. The pit in his stomach churns, the lump in his throat grows larger. A silent tear runs down his face, he gently whisks it away so as to not be noticed by the others as they watch him intently from behind the trees.

As he approaches the steps of the cabin, the crow caws at him menacingly, startling him. His heart thumps violently. Slowly ascending the steps, he takes a deep, rasping breath and knocks gently on the door.

Waiting for a moment, he turns to look at the boys and shrugs.

With relief, he quickly starts towards the steps, when he hears a creaking sound below him. A hatch falls open beneath his feet. He is syphoned down a chute, landing abruptly into an underground cage.

He peers around the dim candlelit room. As his eyes adjust he discovers shelves lining the walls. They're filled with leather bound books, knick-knacks, animal skulls, vials of potions, and jars of herbs and powders. In the middle of the room is a large cauldron atop a blazing green flame.

“Holy smokes, she really IS a Witch!”, he exclaims to himself.

A maleficent chuckle echoes behind him, she retorts “Well, well, well… If it isn’t the pestilent little demon spawn that enjoys slaying innocent woodland creatures and igniting sacred Oak trees ablaze.”

His eyes widen, he slowly turns around. Expecting to see an ugly old Crone with green skin and a boil on her nose, he is pleasantly surprised to spot a beautiful younger woman with flawless skin, curly crimson locks and mesmerizing green eyes.

“That- It wasn’t me! I mean... It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want to do any of those things, I had no choice, I swear! My friends made me do it… We just… We wanted to see if the stories were true”

“You always have a choice my dear, for you are the master of your own destiny”

“I truly am so sorry. Please, I’ll do anything, just please don’t kill me”

“Although you have terrible taste in friends and a clear lack of judgement, your eyes tell me all I need to know. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and your eyes are kind. There is one task you can help me with. I intend to make… an offering for Samhain. You would make the perfect assistant.”

He thought to himself, an offering? Like a sacrifice? Cautiously, he replied, “What... assistance do you require?”

Pulling out a quill, she scribbles across a piece of brown parchment paper as she chants a spell underneath her breath. She wraps an ornate wooden box in the parchment paper, securing it with red twine.

She turns to him, “You must be taught a lesson on trusting your inner voice, and to resist pleasing others when you know in your heart it is not the right thing to do. You will deliver this box to my sister who lives on the opposite corner of the woods, you must travel quickly as she needs it for this evening’s ritual. You are not to open the box or abandon it for any reason. I have enchanted the parchment it is wrapped in, anyone who opens it whom it is not intended for will suffer a grave and dangerous punishment. There will be temptations, just remember to listen to your heart and do the right thing.”

Unlocking the cage, she hands him the parchment wrapped box, “Off you go, I hope to see you this evening my dear”

Timmy gingerly cradles the box and starts off through the woods.

As he travels, he wonders what could reside inside the box. A small sing-song voice chimes, “Hello sweet boy, wouldn’t you like to have a peak?”

Startled, he looks around and sees nothing but the trees, the cabin is in the distance behind him.

Shaking his head, he continues on his way. He wonders to himself what mysterious magic could be hiding inside.

The same voice calls out, “Open me dear, and you shall reveal all the magnificent wonders awaiting you.”

He knew he must not open it, this must be the temptation he was warned of. This test seemed easy, all he had to do was get the box to the Witch's sister.

Fear begins to creep into his mind... What if, when he got there, HE was going to be the offering?

“They do intend to sacrifice you dear, inside I contain all the tools you need to protect yourself...”

The box could hear his thoughts and was playing on his doubts and insecurities, he knew he must keep going.

He spots the trio approaching him, “There you are! We looked away for a moment and when we looked back you were gone. We thought you chickened out and ran away!”

Isaac notices the box, “Hey, whatcha got there?”

Stunned by their arrival, he mumbles, “Umm... it’s just a package I need to deliver”

“Is that from the Witch’s house?! Give it here!” Harold lunges for the box as Timmy wrenches it away.

“I’m sorry, it is very important that I deliver it. You cannot touch it, it’s dangerous”

Felix snatches the box from Timmy as the other two shove him to the ground.

“You’re always a party pooper, let the big boys handle this!” Exclaims Harold as they tear open the parchment.

All three boys vanish into the box, Timmy remains on the ground in shock.

“What happened? Where are we?!” One boy yells from inside the box.

Panic stricken, Timmy quickly gathers the box in the parchment and bolts toward the sister’s house.

“Please, let us out, we can’t breathe!” Another boy begs.

Timmy pauses, if he opens the box will he get sucked in too? If he doesn’t, they may die and it will all be his fault.

The voice inside his head reminds him of the Witch’s words, “You are not to open the box for any reason...”

The boys plead frantically, “Please, we are dying!”, he runs faster. The quicker he can get to the sister’s house, the better his chances are of saving them.

Approaching the sister’s house, he bangs on the door yelling, “Help, please help me!”

As the sister opens the door, she has a satisfied grin on her face.

“Hello dear, is that for me?”

“Yes, but my friends are trapped inside, you have to help me save them!”

The sister giggles, “Sweet child, those boys are not your friends. Friends do not belittle and take advantage of their friends. Those boys are cruel and deserve to pay handsomely for their malicious tricks.”

As she opens the box, he peaks inside anxiously. Inside are some bundles of sage, a bouquet and garland of marigold flowers and some turnips.

He looks to the sister, confusion written on his face. In this same moment there is a tap on the door, in walks the Witch.

“Hello dear, I’m pleased to see you have passed the test. Sister, we must begin preparations for the offering…” She strings the marigold garland over the doorway and scatters loose petals in a circle on the floor and across an altar on the East side of the room. The sister begins chopping the turnips and putting them in a large cauldron she has hovering over a green flame.

“Pardon me, but um, where are…”

“Oh, those heathens you call friends? They will be dealt with accordingly”

“Will they be…”

“Sacrificed?” she chuckles, “Oh goodness, of course not. Our kind hasn’t sacrificed a living soul in ages. We are vessels of love and light, peacekeepers and healers. We are lovers and protectors of nature and all beings both living and passed. Your acquaintances, however, are evil spirited and must be taught a lesson about not harming others for their own benefit. They will be held captive in my chambers until Spirit enlightens me with the appropriate measures to handle them.”

“What about the... offering?” he inquires curiously.

“On Samhain, or what you celebrate as Halloween, we honor our ancestors and Spirits that have passed before us. Part of our tradition is to make a feast of their favorite foods and items that they loved when they were alive. Our Great Granny’s turnip stew was a favorite for all. We honor her and our other beloved ancestors by making a large pot to share with them. Marigolds were our Great Auntie's favorite, she carried them on her wedding day. We also drape the doorway in Marigolds and scatter them on the altar and the ground to welcome them through the veil. Would you like to help us?”

Smiling, he nods as he helps prepare the stew.