Witch’s Custody
By Car’lyle Lee
Neana and her mother, Manea, stood at her bedroom window as they watched the van bounce up the tracks between the dun green hills. There were no clouds in the sky, only gray scenery with the smell of soggy mud and wood carried on the wind. Neither of them smiled. It wasn’t the farm van that Neana’s father used to ride to the fields, nor could it be any horseback wagons that their neighbors would visit them in. Before long, they saw the cold steel van with a dark red dagger logo on the side that pulled up to their two-story house.
“It is the Witch Enforcement Custody,” Manea whispered. “I thought we had time; how foolish I was to think we had time. There’s nothing we can do now.” It amazed Neana to hear those words of defeat coming from her mother. Even though they were the same height, Manea was as strong as an ox. Her frizzy silver hair reflected her lineage of the “mystical women” in their family: strong and unique. She held down both the house and raised Neana independently, with a hand like iron, and worked the mill alone. “That damn farmer’s son must’ve tipped off the W.E.C. about you, I swear,” Manea started, “if I see Neal again, I’m going to ring out his fatty neck and make a pig pie out of him.”
“Neal couldn’t inform on me,” Neana sputtered. “He promised me.”
“I know he did,” Manea said. “I should be taking my anger out on his father. That man never liked us; he probably forced Neal to tell the W.E.C. about witches that live here. It doesn’t matter now. They’re here nonetheless.” The van stopped near the dusty-brick farmhouse while the chickens flapped frantically, and their sheepdog pups barked their heads off.
“Go and hide in the cellar, and be as quiet as possible,” Manea said in a hushed tone. “If the gods are on our sides, we might get off. Or something else entirely.” A knock came from the door, loud enough to rattle some of the pictures on the wall. Manea opened the cellar door in the floor and hurried Neana down. “Remember—be as quiet as a mouse, and don’t panic.” She quickly shut the cellar door. Neana could hear the thick rug placed overtop the door and then her mother's footsteps as they hurried off.
Neana remained silent, huddled near the cellar's far dark corner, behind a few wheat and flour crates. As she remained invisible and quiet, she heard the front door open and heavy boots as they walked in. Neana shoved herself farther into the corner until her back and the cold, damp wall were almost the same. She heard voices coming from above her. One was her mother’s voice, and two were deep male voices: thick and heavy. Their heavy combat boots walked closer to the cellar door. A weak, sour feeling grew inside Neana’s stomach. She could hardly move for fear of being discovered. The sound of the door that was opening and closing echoed throughout the house. “Where is she?” one of the male voices roared.
“Who?” Manea asked.
“Don’t be stupid with us, woman,” another male voice threatened. “A farmer’s son, Neal, made complaints to the Witch Enforcement Custody about a witch residing in this village. The son mentioned that the witch lives right in this house with an older woman that matches your description.”
“Well, there’s a lot of old women that match such description,” Manea objected. “Maybe you should try Miss Needle two fields away. We always get mistaken for twins.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” one of the knights said.
While Neana listened to the knights question her mother, tears started to fall from her eyes and drop one by one on the dirt-covered floor. She couldn’t help it. This whole situation placed a great heaviness on young Neana’s heart. Oh, Neal, she thought to herself. Could you have done this? You couldn’t have—you promised me.
“The farmer also mentioned that a girl had bewitched young Neal into having feelings for her,” a male voice stated. “A ploy to hold the young boy captive without resentment.”
Manea didn’t say anything for a while. “Seriously,” she started, “whoever heard of such nonsense around these parts of the Country. Witches casting love spells on boys. How absurd!”
“It’s not that absurd, woman,” one of the male voices said. Neana heard heavy footsteps as one of the knights marched up to where Manea stood. “Witches are known to be irritating creatures, capable of the most wicked of acts against man. No wonder this… creature did such a thing, for who can ever love a creature as wicked as the Devil’s heart.”
“Or maybe,” Manea said, “the boy wasn’t bewitched but felt love for the girl of his own accord.”
There was a long pause for a while. The only thing Neana heard was the small feet of a mouse that ran on the floor and over her feet. She held such a surprise in her throat, not even letting a small source of sound escape her lips. She wouldn’t scream. She had to be strong.
“Explain,” one of the male voices said.
“I’m just saying,” Manea started. “Maybe the young boy fell in love with this so-called witch on his own and not by any spell or potion. Just simple old love.”
“But the farmer said…”
“The farmer is a liar,” Manea interrupted. “Everyone knows he beats Neal for no reason. Mostly when he drinks too much of that ale he gets every Tuesday. Instead of questioning me about a witch, you should call social services on him.”
“Not our jurisdiction,” one of the male voices said. “Besides, the boy specifically mentioned the witch showing him magic behind the windmill in the farming lands.”
Neana’s heart skipped a beat. Oh no, she thought—the Healing Spell. Oh, Neal, I should have never done such a thing; none of this would have happened. Neana stopped to think about the past as she blocked out the voices and noises from upstairs. She saw Neal with his brownish-blonde hair and his blue eyes. He was a boy who Neana never thought of falling in love with, but as Cupid’s arrows would have it, the two fell in love without hesitation.
* * *
“By the gods, Neal,” Neana said, as she stood over an injured Neal behind Neal’s family windmill. Neana saw a white horse that ran away from the windmill to the family barn from the corner of her eye. “What happened to you?!”
He moaned in pain as he held his right leg, which was bright red and swelled beyond recognition. “That damn horse! She got spooked when she heard an owl hoot and knocked me off. Now my leg is in unbearable pain!”
“Here, let me help you up,” Neana said. She carefully tried to raise Neal from the ground, but when he put pressure on the injured leg, he let out a scream and fell back on the grass. Neana saw the pain in Neal’s blue eyes, the eyes she always got lost in every time she looked at them. Instead of the joy she usually saw in them, she saw a state of pain and fear.
“We got to get you help, Neal,” Neana said as she looked around. “I’ve got to get your fa-”
“No!” Neal yelled. “He can’t know I’ve ridden a horse without his permission. He would kill me, or worse.”
“But, Neal,” Neana started. “Your leg is broken. You can’t even walk on it without falling. We need to get you some help.”
“There has to be another way?” Neal moaned as he held his swollen leg in pain.
Neana saw him as he tried to hold in the pain, but a few tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his red cheeks. He was in pain, and it broke her heart to see him in such a state. She had to do something. But what? She stared deep into the face of the boy who her heart longed for and came up with an idea. An idea she never thought she would ever act upon, especially in front of Neal.
“Neal, listen to me,” Neana said as kneeled to his level. “You must promise me that you will tell no one what I’m about to do.”
“Do what?”
“Just promise me!”
“Okay, I promise.”
She cupped her hands together and concentrated on the air, her hands, and the light of the summer’s moon. Suddenly, a small orb of light grew in the palms of her hand. She gently laid it on Neal’s swollen leg. The little ball of light floated down on the injured leg and merged with the redness of the bruise until it made Neal’s right leg glow bright. One could almost confuse the glowing light with a fallen star to the naked human eye from a distance. As the brightness went away, so did Neal’s injury until his leg was back to normal.
He stared at Neana with a look of surprise on his face. “Neana, are you a…”
“Witch?” Neana interrupted. “Yes, Neal, I’m a witch. I wanted to tell you for some time now, but I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Neal asked as he and Neana got up from the ground. “That I would turn you into the W.E.C.? Come on, Neana, I care about you too much to do anything like that.”
Neana smiled.
Neal smiled back and looked down. “I want to tell you something, Neana.”
“Which is?”
Suddenly, a loud dog bark ranged into both of their ears, along with an older man’s voice that roared over the field. “Who’s there? What was that light I saw?” It was Neal’s father.
“Go, Neana,” Neal said. “If my father finds you here, he will kill you… or worse.”
“But what did you want to tell me, Neal?” Neana asked.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow, but right now, Neana, you have to go. Go now!”
She embraced him with a quick hug. “I’ll see you then.”
He returned the same affection. “And I will be waiting. Now, go!”
Neana quickly dashed from the windmill and ran through the field before either the dog or Neal’s father could have noticed her. She never looked back.
* * *
“What can I say, young love does foolish things.” Manea’s voice brought Neana back from her memory. She was still hiding in the cellar while the knights above her were interrogating her mother. She badly wanted to cry. But she knew it would only make things worse.
“That’s not love,” one of the male voices said. “That is witchcraft. No love will hurt one of the lovers in the process. Only a person with a cold heart will say such a thing.”
Manea remained quiet. “Did the boy said that, or was it his father?”
“That’s none of your concern,” one of the male voices said. “All that matters is that there is a witch on the loose, and it’s our job to find her.”
“Even if a boy is threatened to tell such lies.”
“What?” one of the knights said.
“It’s not a secret that Neal’s father threatened him to tell you that a witch lives here. That man never liked me, especially after winning the blue ribbon for the Country's best farm. He would do anything to get rid of us, even telling lies to the Witch Enforcement Custody.”
“Enough,” one of the male voices roared. “There is a witch here, and we are going to find her, whatever it takes.”
“Well,” Manea said. “No witch is living here.”
“We shall see.”
As the two knights walked around, swirls of dust started to sweep through the floorboards and flew into Neana’s face. Her nose started to twitch.
Hold it in, she thought to herself. Indeed, if my mother can hold off these stiff neck knights, then you can hold in a sneeze. The urge started to grow, causing pains in both her cheeks and her chest. Her upper body cavity felt like an anaconda had constricted her lungs.
“If you don’t have any more questions, you can leave!” Manea yelled. Neana knew that when her mother’s voice increased, she either didn’t have any more patience or she was angry, but in this case, it was both.
“We’ll be leaving now, but we’ll be back if we have any more questions,” one of the knights said.
“Trust and believe; we’ll be back, madame,” said the other knight.
Neana heard their heavy boots slowly making their way back to the front door. But Neana had a challenge of keeping quiet with her urge to sneeze growing closer. Tears started to roll down her cheeks and slowly drip down to the cold stone floor, like a leaking faucet.
I’m sorry, mother, Neana thought as she let out a loud sneeze. Although she felt a release from the sneeze, she also felt a sad and guilty sense that slowly came over her. The heavy boots above her suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. Neana’s heart immediately stopped, as well.
“What was that noise?” one of the knights said.
“What noise? I didn’t hear anything,” Manea said anxiously. The floorboard creaked each time the knights’ heavy boots paced the room, getting closer to the cellar door.
“It sounded like a sneeze,” countered the other knight. His boots stopped near the rug. Neana's eyes stared directly at the cellar door, as she knew they were getting closer to discovering her whereabouts. She needed a plan. Better yet, she needed a miracle.
Heavy footsteps marched overtop the cellar door. The dust became more vigorous than before, which resulted in Neana holding her nose and her surroundings becoming blurry from the dust. Neana heard the rug as the knight started to pull it away from the door, and suddenly, everything went quiet.
“Sir, there’s a cellar door here,” one of the knights said.
“Last chance, madame,” challenged one of the knights. “Are you harboring a witch in your house?”
There was quiet again.
“Open the door, knight,” one of the knights ordered.
Neana’s eyes locked on the cellar door. Her heart started to beat so fast that she thought it would burst from her chest. Her palms became sweaty. She knew this was the end and that she would be taken from her mother, village, and Neal, never to see any of them again. She would burn at the stake like all the other witches who were arrested by the W.E.C. She never thought in all her young life that she would be one of those witches she heard about from the local papers.
Burned.
Erased.
“Fine,” Manea said. “I do have a witch in my house.”
Neana’s heart completely stopped.
“Where is this witch then?” one of the knights said.
“You’re looking at her,” Manea responded in a tired voice. “I’m the witch you’re looking for. I’m the last witch of my family, and I’ve been living here ever since my mother's death by your kind’s hands. I knew it to be a matter of time before you came back for me. As you state in your slogan, ‘No witch nor warlock can hide from the W.E.C.’”
“I don’t believe you,” one of the knights said. “The farmer’s son said the witch was around his age.”
“Well, as I said before, maybe it was his father who made Neal tell such lies. You can’t trust a man with a drinking problem, can you? He even stated that Neal almost ran him over with the tractor when he was harvesting in the fields. Now I find it hard to believe that a boy like Neal can do such a thing. And besides, Neal will say anything to stop his father from beating him to death.”
“I don’t buy it, sir,” one of the knights said. “Besides, we all heard a sneeze coming from the cellar door. I say we open it up.”
“No!” Manea's voice roared like thunder in a storm.
Suddenly, everything went quiet. Neana saw a glow of orange light coming from the cellar door, along with the smell of something burning. But instantly, both the shining orange light and the scent disappeared, as if they never happened, almost like magic.
“You just started a fire!” one of the knights said in horror. “In midair!”
“Just like any witch,” Meana said. “Proving that I am the witch you are looking for. There is no need to hide it anymore. I’m already caught.”
“But, the boy’s story,” one of the knights said, his voice mixed with both confusion and anger.
“The father was filling in Neal’s story, sir,” one of the knights said. “Almost like he was coaching him to say such things.”
“Or maybe he was helping his son. The poor boy was probably too scared about what happened that he needed his father's help to tell the story. Anyway, we have found the witch.”
Neana heard the knights’ heavy boots as they marched over to Manea, along with the noise of rusted chains.
“You’re a sick and wicked woman,” one of the knights said.
“I have to be,” Manea said. “To survive in a world more sick and wicked than me.”
Neana heard the rusted iron shackles placed on both Manea’s wrist and ankles. All the footsteps started to grow faint as they walked to the front door. Neana heard her mother’s footsteps as they walked along with the heavy boots. She knew that her mother would not return home this night or the nights to come.