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There’s a witch in his home. Alex Lilly is certain of it.
Aunt Gladys, his great aunt. The very aunt who his parents claimed hadn’t visited in over 15 years.
“I remember you when you were a little baby. So tiny, a baby birdie in my arms.”
He doesn’t know what to believe anymore.
Aunt Gladys is nothing like the characters described in the bedtime stories when he was younger. Her skin isn’t green, nor covered in warts; she wears no black hat or carries a black cat. No wand to cast spells and no broomstick to fly high in the sky.
If anything, she’s more of a clown. Yes, a clown! Crazy red locks and smeared makeup with mismatched clothes that reminded him of a discarded yard sale offering. Always smiling, always laughing, like any worthwhile clown should.
Weren’t clowns supposed to be funny?
She doesn’t fool him. Alex can feel it. A chorus of truth in his brain.
Witch. Witch. WITCH!
Her cackling croak of a voice that barks orders at him whenever she pleases. Fingers long and spindly that claw towards him. Nails digging into him are a permanent reminder of his place and a threat of violence (a merciful fate, really) if he dares to question her ways or ever step out of line.
“This is the consequence, Alex.”
Alex remembers the stabbing of the forks. Over and over his mom and dad were completely powerless to stop it. Shiny and silver prods were jamming into cheeks, causing blood to flow amongst the translucent flesh.
“Oh no, looks like my baby’s got red on his face!” His mom would say as she’d wipe the food off his little round nose.
He’ll never eat anything red again.
Alex begs to Aunt Gladys, and the witch prolongs his suffering as if she draws her very strength from his pain. Many years later, when he’s as old and weathered as she first appeared, he’ll conclude it was exactly that.
But not now, not when he’s but a boy of nine who sleeps with his first teddy, thinks that piggyback rides from his dad are the best thing in the world and still believes there’s a monster in his closet.
Alex has opened that very door, and the monster has come out to play. Smiling while she does. Teeth rotten and stinking of death itself.
Maybe she is.
“I won’t tell, I promise.”
He makes a pinky promise with her, and everyone knows you never break a pinky promise…right?
~~~
When he was sick with whatever popular bug was around school at that given time, his parents would feed him chicken noodle soup and stroke his hair until he felt comfortable enough to rest.
And so Alex does the same for them, holding their hands and hoping it will be enough to squash the illness inside. His dad struggles with getting the carrot chunks through his lips, but Alex isn’t angry. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, even adults.
He could’ve sworn Mom moved her finger. Did she feel comfortable enough to rest?
“That’s it, down the hatch. You are doing so well.” Echoing the very words his dad would say to him. A hum, although very faint, is the reward for Alex’s efforts.
“I’m here; I won’t leave you.”
Alex hopes they know how much he means it. Families stick together after all. Mom taught him that.
~~~
“Are you the devil?”
Aunt Gladys laughs at his question as if he wasn’t the first to wonder of her true nature. And what were witches to his young mind if not the devil themselves, casting unknown curses and drawing power from the tears of their victims? Aunt Gladys pulls him closer to her; Alex wants nothing more than to shove her off, but he knows better.
All good things come to those who wait.
Aunt Gladys seems lost in thought, fiddling with the soil of her beloved tree, her only true friend in this desolate place. She whispers a statement that burrows itself into the boy’s very soul.
“To some I was indeed; my own dearest mammy would agree! You should’ve seen me when I was a young girl; such a pretty thing I was with red flowing locks that would enchant all the boys in the parish. My sisters were so envious of me!” She cackles, shaking his shoulders.
“Where are your sisters?” The young boy ponders; picturing Aunt Gladys with any immediate family fills him with a sense of dread; it makes her seem human rather than the witch he lives with.
“Oh sweetie, they are in the ground. The deep, deep ground. For the best really, annoying little trollops that they were. Good riddance.”
Alex’s heart starts to hammer; he’s running out of time, a truth he can feel in his very bones.
“Am I going to be in the ground?”
A coo, sappy and fake. Aunt Gladys takes his soft hands into her cracked ones. A warning, or better yet, a threat.
“Not if you continue to be my good boy.”
If it’s a good boy she wants, then it’s a good boy he’ll be.
~~~
Alex counts to himself. Is 27 cans of soup enough? The buzz and general chatter of the supermarket slashes through his train of thought.
He didn’t want to do this. Draw his own classmates into the witch’s spell (not even stupid Matthew), and yet he had no choice.
Mom and Dad needed him.
Alex looks to the woman next to him; she’s browsing through the different types of vegan soups, and he gazes over to the store clerk at his other side. The young boy knows he must stick out like a sore thumb. Aren’t they wondering where his family is?
“Help me, please help me.” Is what he would cry if he had the courage.
Nothing comes out; nobody sees young Alex Lilly, let alone bothers to hear him. He fades into the background, forgotten, just like Matthew and his other bully buddies tell him.
Miss Gandy says she’s here for him. But Alex feels it to be a falsehood. A comfort to no one but her. She’s caught up in her own spell now, one of misery and outright betrayal from the entire town.
She can’t help him, nor can his parents, and so Alex Lilly has to help himself.
One foot in front of the other, just like the coach in the gym class would say. Back home to those who depend on him and the witch governing among them chanting in a language seemingly older than time itself.
Alex has never felt more alone.
~~~
Alex feels the palpable irony in the room seemingly reverberating through the very walls as he feeds Matthew and the other classmates their dinner.
The defenceless has become the defender. Alex wonders what Matthew would make of that, if he could even respond, that is.
Alex wonders if Matthew’s dad was ever as patient as he’s being with him right now, even though the soup keeps seeping from Matthew’s lips. Alex hopes he was, but he’s not so sure.
Two years of constant torment from the boy would state otherwise.
~~~
Somehow it’s all come down to this, another chapter to add to the never-ending horror story of the existence of one young Alex Lilly. His parents all but brutalise their way into the door. The very hinges loosening evermore. Alex might only have a minute to spare. He won’t waste it.
A very familiar red wig captures his eye. Gotcha!
If there’s one thing you need to know about Alex Lilly, it’s that he’s observant far beyond his young age. Always watching and soaking in information even when the rest of the class went out to play.
Thus, when you’ve been a witch’s unwilling accomplice for months on end, you tend to pick up on a few things.
A stick, water from the sink, a lock of hair… He barely winces as he draws the blood to complete the ritual. He’s felt worse after all.
A snap – now she’ll know how it feels.
Alex hugs his parents, and he knows he’s finally home. He kisses their marred cheeks over and over as if that very action would break the spell.
This is no fairytale.
“I’ll be right back.” He squeezes his parents' hands as he sprints out of the bathroom, wood and salt crunching under his shoes.
~~~
Ding dong, the witch is dead.
He recalls how Miss Murphy, his English teacher, would waffle on about how incredible and powerful poetry can be. Alex never understood her passion until now, that is. For what he sees in front of him is pure poetry manifest.
Aunt Gladys, killed by her own weapons. The witch boiled alive in her own blood and guts. A parasite without a host, now nothing but mush on the grass. Her very existence is now all but sunk into the deep ground below.
It’s the first time in a long time that Alex truly smiles.
Then the little boy starts to laugh and laugh. He doesn’t stop laughing even as Miss Gandy rushes to his side in worry, gathering him into her arms and telling him it will be okay.
He thinks of his parents, scarred, malnourished and mute, and wonders how it will ever be okay again.
Alex doesn’t believe her; it’s not the first time an adult has lied to him, after all.