The Witch and the Locket

Deeds was determined to make it over the southern wall of the island before the sun was under the water and darkness claimed the sky. She had been in the tropical belt for weeks, following folk tales of a woman who was said to have a treasure that would raise the dead. Many said she was nothing more than a lonely old hag in a mud hut along the shores of the beach. Others swore on her magic, saying they watched as the waves brought back the ones they lost. She knew that beyond the great wall of rocks on the island is where the so-called “witch” could be found.

In her hand, she held fast to the final memory of her lost family. The locket her husband had given her only months before the accident. Deeds ran her fingers over the deeply engraved letters, D.A.M. It was the first initial of each family member's name; mother, father, and son. Now only the D remained, walking the Earth aimlessly in attempts to escape her sorrow.

Something about her time on this particular island seemed different than the others she had visited in her pursuit. Originally, she came to the Bahamas simply to be away from everything she had known in her life with her family. That life was gone. Once she heard the tale of the old sea witch that brought people back from the dead, she became fascinated to the point of obsession. Not that Deeds believed someone on a Bahamian island could actually bring her dead husband and son back to life, walking out of the ocean as if they had only gone for a swim. In truth, it was more of a timing thing, the universe had laid out this adventure in front of her right when she needed something to occupy her mind the most, and she latched savagely like a famished infant to its mother’s bosom.

She was almost at the top of the jagged rock formation now. It seemed to stretch out as far into the ocean as the eyes could see, but she assumed this was just an illusion of the light. The sun dancing in bright colors across the water made her feel as if she were crossing through some fantastical portal into the unknown. As her foot made its final ascent and she stood fully on the top now with no other way to go on either side of her but down, the beauty of the scene provided a momentary relief, she felt almost high. It was then followed by a crashing and devasting pain when she imagined turning to her family and basking in the beauty with her favorite people.

The descent was easier and in a blink, her feet were walking softly back on the beach sand. It was not much further, she could see the opening in the jungle ahead and the old witch's house should be just beyond. An explosion of emotion was coursing through every nerve threaded throughout her body. Deeds realized she was walking so quickly it could almost be considered a jog. She felt drawn to the place, as if this is where she was always meant to be and her hand clenched her locket tightly, rapidly running her fingers over the letters.

Another couple minutes passed – or a couple of hours as far as she could have told you, the world she walked in no longer felt like her own – and she stood toe-to-toe with the opening to the forest. Something about the place felt welcoming, but also, dangerous. Deeds looked to each side of the opening feeling as if there should be some sort of knocker, or perhaps an intercom system to buzz her in, but of course, there was not.

Stepping through the threshold that divided jungle from beach the air became cooler and damper, with a stench of new wet rot and that of fresh green life. Neither smell was appealing to Deeds, the rot stank, and the green life made her stomach feel sick. Just ahead, she could see a mass of roots, sticks, and vegetation, woven intricately into a dwelling space. Between the very fine cracks of the intricately placed wood pieces, an orange and yellow light flickered and smoke rose from a small chimney at the top. There was no solid door, simply heavy leaves crafted together to cover the entrance. Deeds went to knock on the wooden frame of the opening, but before her knuckles could rap one time a voice came from inside.

“Come in girl, there’s no need to knock.” The voice was worn and raspy. Deeds’ heart raced as she pushed through the door. She had surrendered control of her body to her senses and now felt like she was simply along for the ride.

Inside, before her appeared a simple setting; a small framed bed, table, and two chairs, all in the same woven wood style as the rest of the structure. She noticed the wood around her seemed to be impossibly smooth, as if time had sanded and placed each piece professionally. Deeds wondered how long the woman had been there.

“Well then, will you sit?” Deeds finally managed to focus on the old woman in front of her. Her hair was matted, grey, and hung down to the floor. She wore all black tatters, made from a material Deeds could not identify. Her eyes were cloudy and her face sagged deeply, though in it Deeds could see some of the woman she had once been – or so she thought – and familiarity washed about her as she took her seat.

“You don’t know why you’ve come here I see,” the woman said without looking up from her knitting.

“I hear you raise people from the dead.” Deeds heard herself speak the words but did not remember commanding her brain to do so. The old witch laughed heartily and Deeds found herself surprised when it was not the cackle she had created in her mind.

“Ahh yes, the witch at the south end of the island who brings lovers and family members back from the dead. Risen from the ocean to walk the earth once again.” She laughed harder this time. Deeds was silent as the woman roared, a fury was building inside of her at the sight of the mockery.

“Sorry to have wasted your time!” Deeds said as she stood and turned. The old witch stopped laughing and lay her knitting aside.

“Come with me child,” the old woman stood more agilely than expected and walked ahead of Deeds out the door. Again, the woman found herself being led by her feet, as if she were not there at all, watching from some distant land of space and time. Everything felt surreal and suddenly terror took her over as she saw herself following the old woman out of the woods and back onto the beach until they were both knee-deep in the ocean.

The sky was black and she was unsure where the sun had gone. Had she not only been inside the witch's hut for a few moments? Her head was spinning and she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“There, there, child.” The old witch rubbed her back soothingly, “I’m sorry for your loss, it’s much easier when you get here and you are searching for death. You confused one’s always make it harder,” said the old witch now placing her other hand on Deeds’ other shoulder. Deeds was confused, what did the old witch mean? And as she went to open her mouth to ask that very question she felt herself forced under the ocean.

The two hands seemed to be stronger than any man she had ever met. Deeds fought and flailed in the tide, struggling to break above the water and gasp just one piece of sweet life-giving oxygen. But the old witch was too strong. She stood there, holding Deeds under the water until she stopped moving.

“Your pain is over now child,” said the old witch. As she pulled her hands from the limp body in the water, with them she snatched the locket from around the young woman’s neck. The old witch turned and slowly walked back into her hut. Concealed under a blanket of leaves she opened a chest. The fire reflected off the gold that was in the box and the old witch threw the locket on top of the rest.

She made her way back to her chair beside the fire and stared deeply into the dancing flames. Her hand reached up to the golden locket around her neck, it was worn now and the letters, D.A.M., were harder to feel than they had been when she had first been given it so many years ago. Deeds squeezed the locket tightly and thought about the versions of herself that never found the island, the ones that lived happily in some time and space. She watched the women in the flames and drifted off, hoping to never see another one of her younger selves again.