The Witch, An Horror Story: Books About Witches Read online

  The Witch, An Horror Story: Books About Witches

  By Robinson Fowler

  Published by Robinson Fowler

  Copyright 2017 Robinson Fowler

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to the store book or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  The Witch, an Horror Story

  Conclusions

  About the Author

  Other Books by Robinson Fowler

  SAMPLE OF THE BOOK ANUNNAKI

  INTRODUCTION

  When the youngest of the Morgan children, Annie, turned eight she didn't know the fate that would await her. As they enter the forest, she and her brother, Bill, will experience unspeakable terror. Only her ties will be able to save them... because she has waited for them for a long time, in a forest flooded by her everlasting evil.

  Enjoy my book!

  I dedicate this story to my parents and my beloved sister, my friends and my girlfriend, and my first official buyer of a story, Mauricio, who requested that I write this story. Thank you my friend.

  THE WITCH, AN HORROR STORY

  The old witch of the forest had been stalking the Morgan children for years. Every night she waited for the youngest of his children to turn eight years old. According to her old traditions, he firmly believed that at that age the essence of the little ones was the most appetizing for his dark ideals.

  Endless nights she awaited the perfect moment in which the youngest child would have his eight springs. Also and above all, the fact of the little ones were alone at home...

  She had the full certainty that one day their curiosity would motivate them to go into the dark entrails of the old forest.

  Bill was the oldest, he was ten years old.

  One day, Bill and Annie, tired of the limits imposed by their parents on their short lives, decided one day to go into the forest searching for adventure. Bill was obsessed with trees. Once he told his sister that he had heard them mutter each other...

  The old witch discovered that because she had some animals in her favour: they were enchanted. She noticed that they would go into the forest the next morning, a day after Annie's eighth birthday. So the witch enchanted much of the forest and was responsible for making a very striking and picturesque road for the children: a fascinating mirage.

  That day, Bill saw that the entrance to the forest was clear and looked like a garden filled with life so he entered in it. Annie was also encouraged. She followed his brother.

  When they could see the witch's house, she was waiting for them at the door, immobile, with a relaxed face radiating motherhood. The house looked bright, like new. The dirty rags and the old woman's appearance were unveiled, clean, and immaculate.

  The children were happy to see the woman. The way she dressed, indicated that she was a tender grandmother in her sixties; no more no less.

  "Oh, my children," she said in a honeyed voice. Come in, come in. I have just baked a pie.

  Annie expelled an incredible glare through her eyes and set out to run inside the place.

  But Bill was stopped. He threw a dismissive gesture towards the old woman.

  "Wait, Annie" Bill said, taking her by the arm. We cannot enter the house of someone we do not know. Dad, he always says it.

  The witch shot a look of hatred towards the boy. The spell almost fell apart.

  — Baby, your parents know me. On many occasions I have brought them cakes and other delicacies — she finished with acuteness.

  Bill's heart beat violently. Now he understood who carried those cakes home in each of his birthdays anonymously, which, his parents always destined at the top of the cupboard. Caution maybe? His memory lit up, driving him to dusty memories, to the limits in which he start to have conscious, for the first time.

  Annie was confident. Bill followed her, never taking his eyes off the old woman who was leading them smiling.

  "Here you are," the witch said.

  The children sat at the table. He brought them a strawberry pie. Bill just fiddled with the silverware. It was clear that he did not trust her.

  —Don't you want? —Annie asked. If you do not want, give it to me.

  He swallowed the two slices in a couple of bites.

  When Bill looked for their hostess, she had gone. He peeked through the windows of the house, which showed more and more sickly, for time. In the outskirts, a huge, long gray hair rested on a thick black coat. His hunched back tried to stand up, leaning on a cane she had in both hands. A soft blizzard swirled the brown autumn leaves around it. The horrible witch turned towards him, drawing a terrible and mischievous smile. Her nose was extremely aquiline. Her skin was pale, green, she looked like a dead man desecrated from a grave. His long clawed hands expanded; she gave a laugh that brought down the windows, making them dust.

  Bill had all the horror of countless centuries in his face.

  —Brother, little brother? —Bill heard.

  The voice was the same, but there was something similar to a bird of prey. Bill turned on his heels, slowly... Annie was a real chimerical creature: her elongated limbs formed impossible angles; the position of these, was similar to those of a spider. Bill could not tell what was on his skin: were they black feathers like a raven's, or just thick spidery hair? He could hardly see her eyes; the only human thing that had remained. Bill noticed his sister's tears and hugged her. She was in pain.

  He tried to get out pulling his little sister's paw. The door gave resistance for a moment, then it was left open. The witch was not outside. They ran through the forest, both were frightened and the witch knew it. She knew it very well. It did not matter where they hid. She would find them by the beat of their terrified hearts. She could hear them clearly...

  More they struggled to run, more they had the slight feeling of going around in circles, aimlessly. The dim light of the forest was their only hope and consolation. They followed the light fervently. Sunlight fell faintly on the paths, due to the leafy canopy of the trees; this gave a dull effect at dawn: nuances of a weak emerald green trying to subsist in the depths of an immeasurable darkness...

  —NO MATTER WHERE YOU HIDE, I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. I KNOW!

  Her frightful screams were heard in every corner of the forest. Many birds fled when they felt those screams approaching their nests. Conspiratorial animals, damned, bewitched! Bill thought.

  Both siblings got tired.

  —That is all. We're done, Annie.

  —I'm sorry, little brother. It’s all my fault.

  —Forget about it. The most important is that I love you.

  Annie clung to her brother with both front legs.

  —I COULD SMELL YOUR FEAR. I FEEL YOUR RESIGNATION. THEN HAVE YOU ACCEPTED IT?

  Their hope was becoming diluted, turning in reality; a heart-breaking reality. But a miracle appeared in front of them: a hole that a kind oak offered them as a hiding place. Inside the oak, they took a breath.

  Everything was silent, except for the wind out there whistling its melody.

  After a moment, Annie noticed that many leaves fell from the tree that sheltered them. She wanted to go out and inspect what happened. Bill took her from the spider back and restrained her with the litt
le strength he had left. She felt attracted... attracted by the melody of the wind, by the "crack" of the branches that some extraordinary force exerted on the ancient tree.

  —APPEAR, MY DAUGHTER. LET ME POSSESS YOUR BODY AND BE ONE —the witch's voice was heard nearby.

  She had found them.

  Bill understood the witch's plan perfectly: she needed a new carrier. That battered body was no longer useful. And what better than a girl, to then offer her spirit to Beelzebub in order to prolong her stay in this world? For that harpy, Annie was just a container.

  He and his sister held their breath. Then they could see the witch. Among the holes that let see the sky. Like Annie, but without all that black on the skin (skin bare and bruised like that of a dead person), huge, with legs ending in sharp points: a perfect colossal mantis, just above them.

  She looked triumphant, herculean. They could see how she descended through the trunk of the tree. Its legs, in descent, covered the view to the grey sky, also its bulging belly in which a disgusting black mass contoured an orifice that came gurgling sounds.

  —OH, YEAH. I FEEL FEAR. I FEEL FEAR. BEAT, BEAT! BEAT, LITTLE HEARTS! FAST MORE FAST!

  The sharp legs came and went from the bark of the poor tree making its branches shake.

  — IT WOULD BE BETTER TO GO OUT. YOUR DEATH WOULD NOT BE CRUEL.

  The children had to make a decision before the worst of tragedies happens.

  Bill steeled himself and took his sister back, but the moment they set out to leave, the witch poked her hideous jaws into their hiding place. She opened her jaws showing the sharp teeth from which hung long strands of saliva.

  Luck still protected them. The beast could not enter in the little hiding place.

  She struggled for a long time. I tried to split the tree with its powerful legs: half saws, half knives.

  Bill and Annie tried to escape again, and this time they succeeded.

  A nightmare chase started. The witch was behind them. She would achieve them; the distance between them was very short. Her thirst for blood motivated her impetus.

  Annie saw that the revolutions, in Bill's career, had diminished. She knew terrified that he would soon stop running.

  —Come on up— Annie said hurriedly. Come on up! You don't have more energy.

  Bill obeyed and mounted on her, as Annie jumped instinctively, dodging the witch's front blades by a hair.

  Suddenly, in front of them, the exit of the forest appeared. The path they had followed with such hope took pity on them.

  Time seemed slow, and the path, infinite...

  Annie climbed the trees. Being little, she thought that it could be harder for her persecutor to reach her. She was wrong...

  That was not a disadvantage for the witch. Quite the contrary. She jumped, she did not run; It was jumping, provoking instability where Annie set out to climb.

  The witch, noticing that the children were heading for the exit, babbled a spell, but without uttering a word. What emerged was a guttural scream that stunned the children a little. Annie lost her balance and fell from the top of a tall tree on which she had rested all her weight.

  —I HAVE YOU WHERE I WANTED. YOU WILL BE THE FIRST TO DIE, BRAT!

  She lunged at Bill, but Annie got and climbed him onto her back. Both ran for the exit.

  A new guttural scream trigged on the path; the trees huddled hiding the exit. At the same time, the road was even longer and deformed, causing a dizziness who looked at it.

  Annie followed the same path. She jumped over the bushes of the trees, now hunched over. The beast ran screaming incessantly, tearing apart every obstacle.

  The influence of their spells arched the trees much more. They almost touched the ground. Some who were further away, sent their broad roots over land, further encumbering their long way home. Suddenly, a fog appeared slowing down Annie's speed.

  —Annie, this is the end— Bill said, resigned.

  —There must be an exit—Annie replied.

  —WELL, DEAR—said the old witch. NOW THERE IS NO WHERE TO GO... DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT AND JOIN ME? SO YOUR BROTHER CAN GO AND BE SAVED?

  She lied.

  —Never!—Bill protested.

  —WHATEVER... —she immediately articulated a roar similar to the majestic black panther's. The sound's effect caused an echo when hit the wooden wall that surrounded them, then spread out into the forest.

  Trapped and having accepted their condemnation, the children stood still, waiting for death, like some docile lambs...

  The huge beast showed the longer canines protruding from her snout. She licked her lips, making visible the threads of saliva that fell in spurts on the floor thick with fog.

  The whispers of the trees were clearly heard. The roots rubbed together, danced macabrely behind them; their ears interpreted what seemed whining. The roots in chorus lamented, and in the fog they were confused with spectral figures.

  For the witch, that was most familiar.

  She raised the blades to her target and as soon as the beast launched herself into attack, pointed roots emerged from the ground, coming to rest on his jagged snout, finally piercing her head. The brains shot out, lost in the ghostly vapour. When she fell into the puddle of purple blood, we saw her blank eyes.

  The fog dissipated. The animals left behind their threatening features and returned to be the pure creatures of that Eden. In the distance they could see how the witch's house faded to the beat of the fog. Sunlight leaked golden; the green pacified the terror for which they and all the beings of that forest had suffered so long.

  Annie took Bill from the shoulder, who finally could feel the warm and soft hand of his sister. He hug her. The spell of the witch disappeared gradually. The place where it had fallen dead was filled with green grass.

  The trees returned to their natural position. But some roots awaited them. The roots of the other trees retreated back underground with their laments.

  The roots of that special tree guided them towards him. It was the oak that took pity on them. When Bill inspected him in detail, he could not hold back the tears and felt to his knees before the tree. Annie did not understand.

  In it were carved his initials, and under them a phrase that said:

  For our beloved grandchildren...

  With love, your grandparents, Dan and Amy.

  After several years. In old age. Bill and Annie visited the old oak and carved their initials. A phrase in response could be read:

  Thank you, grandparents...

  We will be with you, soon

  and our parents.

  Thanks for taking care of us beyond

  of the same death,

  by the murmurs in the forest...

  Eternally yours,

  Bill and Annie.

  No more was heard of the old witch. But through the generations it was always said, that since her death, that day, a dense fog floods the forest and reaches the village, and every villager must stay anywhere behind closed doors. It is unfortunate who dares to walk near or inside the forest. Who remains without shelter and forget that day in the almanac... Their screams will be silenced by the roar of a feline killer.

  END

  CONCLUSIONS

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  I see you in another story.

  Robinson Fowler

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Robinson Fowler is a Peruvian writer of science fiction, horror, drama, short stories of terror and children stories, who was born in Trujillo in 1987.
He attended his first education at the National School José de San Martín, then, in 1999 he continued his studies at the Dante Alighieri Private School, where he discovered the stories, in his hours of happy reading, of the writer Julio Ramón Ribeyro, which he took as a great reference and inspiration of his writings, together with the poet and writer Cesar Vallejo. Between 2004 and 2006 he studied everything about editorial design, where he consolidated his knowledge in the beautiful art of layout and editing of texts in the different text editing programs at the Institute of Graphic Design and Editorial PICASSO.

  In March 2006 he began his studies at the Institute of Computing and Information Technology, Leonardo Da Vinci, which concluded in 2008; year in which he began to give himself completely to the letters, writing several stories on his personal blog, which he deleted following the advice of his mentor.

  Those stories were of horror, a genre that he's been passionate about since he has counscius.

  Since 2008 he worked as a web designer and desktop application programmer at HN Connection (HNC), an associated company, dedicated to the computer in both branches: hardware and software, but his true vocation was marked. He continued to write compulsively not only Stories of Terror, but also Stories about Drama, others for Children, never stopped in his dream of being a writer.

  In October 2012 he decided to study Industrial Engineering at the Engineering University, a profession with which he felt identified and absorbed many knowledge about business, thus resuming the business with his colleagues / partners of the company HNC, and thus achieving internal improvements, as the distribution of computer accessories to its customers and the quality of service of its employees with respect to customer satisfaction.

  In 2012 he began his work in the company of Industrial Plastics, CODIPLASTICS MAX SAC as logistical assistant, in which, until 2017, he still continues with his tasks as Logistic Supervisor, is that he decides to resume his true passion: writing.