HeatMarie

The winds howled through the small cracks of the cabin’s wood carrying with them the scent of the forest, mixed with the faint, acrid remnants of smoke blown from the kingdom. The witch’s daughter stood near the entrance of the cabin and listened to the unsettling silence that followed the gusts of wind. I have to leave now, before she says anything!

She opened the cabin door and stepped out into the lively forest, vibrant and untouched. It was as peaceful as it had always been. She glanced down the path, shaking her head as she walked up to the crack that split the earth, she could feel the tension between the two parts–the life that pulsed in the forest and the death that clung to the kingdom like a shadow. What has she done? The girl thought to herself as she watched the smoldering smoke rise above the trees. It should have never gotten this bad. I should have stopped it. I’ll fix this! A chill ran down her spine as she gazed into the crack. It seemed alive, pulsing like a dark wound. Smoke rose from it, thin wisps curling up like fingers reaching for the trees on the forest’s edge. She looked up beyond the crack toward the kingdom that lay in near ruin, the fields charred, the rivers reduced to lifeless trenches. Even the sky over the kingdom seemed different–darker, heavy with ash. How can I undo this? How can anyone? No, I can’t think like that. I will fix it. I promise! Her thoughts went out to the universe, out to the earth, asking, begging for forgiveness.  

“Runnin’ off, are ya? Off to save that foolish princess and her pitiful kingdom?” The old witch cackled as she walked towards her daughter. “Do ya really think a witch’s daughter like you can play the hero?”

The witch’s daughter clenched her fists at her sides, but she did not turn around. “This…” she said pointing towards the cracked ground and rising smoke, “This is wrong. What I am doing is not about saving the princess or the kingdom, It’s about undoing what you have done!” 

The old woman’s cackle was harsh and jagged, like the crack in the ground that separated the two parts of the world. “Undo what I’ve done? Ha! That fool princess wanted the curse, and begged for it. Now ya want to go help?” She stepped from the doorway, her feet moving silently across the soft earth of the forest, as though it were her own royal carpet. “You’ll regret it. That prince will use you up and spit you out. But not before you catch those feelers. Na, I think not. I know not. I’ve seen it, girl. Your heart will blacken darker than mine when they’re through with ya. I was once like you,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Thinkin’ I could save things. Think’ I was different. You’ll see. You’ll see soon enough, girl.”

Why does she keep going on about the prince? She stared down at the deep fissure, watching it. The crack seemed to widen before her eyes. It separated the untouched world of the forest, but for how long? I won’t let her darkness spread. I have nothing to fear, nothing will break me.

Her mother’s words slithered into her mind like snakes, whispering doubts, but she pushed them away. I’m not like her. I’ll never be like her. I’m doing this to keep the darkness out of the forest.

The witch stepped closer to her daughter, her hot fish-oiled breath close to her ear. “Go on, then. I’ll be waitin’ to say ‘I told ya so.’”

The witch’s daughter turned, her eyes blazing. “I am not you, Mama,” she said, her voice cold but steady. “I know a witch’s place!” 

Her mother’s smirk widened as she stepped back toward the cottage. “We’ll see… when you come crawlin’ back, girl. We’ll see,” she muttered before closing the door and shutting herself inside. 

I’ll fix this, no matter what it takes, she thought, her resolve hardening. You’ll see. And without another word, she turned her back on the cottage and headed toward the kingdom.