Witch Brew

Deep in the forest,

Just beyond the trees,

Nobody can ever escape,

The evil of the three…

CHILD FOUND DEAD! Read the headline of the Beckwood Times. The people of the town were outraged. Beckwood was a respectable town; murder was rare, very rare. The last recorded murder in the town was twenty years ago, back then it was a young man, he was killed by his lover. She had stabbed him thirteen times with an ice-pick and put his body in the back of her car. She had then driven the car into a lake and resumed with her life. The child’s murder was different, this wasn’t just a simple stabbing, this was mutilation. The child was found with numerous bite marks and missing limbs. It was a little boy who had been killed; the amount of violence had turned his blonde hair, a dark crimson.

Richard Turner threw the newspaper in the bin; he was sickened that anybody could have done that to a child. He shuddered just thinking about what could have happened to the poor kid. The biggest problem was that Richard was in charge of the investigation, it was times like this that he wished he’d never became a policeman. This was the most brutal case he had ever been involved with, seeing that amount of blood and gore would haunt his dreams forever. He sighed and took a deep breath, having to accept that he would have to view that mangled corpse.

He kept driving down the street and the rain was beating down hard on his windshield. His windshield wipers were nearly snapping off due to the speed they had to work so that Richard could get to Beckwood Forest. The rain was still beating down hard when he arrived. He got out of the car and opened up his black umbrella. The rain showered down onto the umbrella and made a loud thumping noise over and over again. Richard walked across the soggy leaves and saturated soil and it squelched beneath his feet. A large group of men and women, all with black umbrellas were stood at the scene of the crime. They were taking pictures and writing down notes, all of them were chatting quietly simultaneously. Richard saw the white sheet, stained red by the blood, covering the body as the people in black surrounded it.

Richard felt unsettled by this sight, seeing all these people standing around a dead child. It was morbid at best, but it was his job, it was what he was paid to do. He took a deep breath to stop the nausea and approached the group.

“Hello PC Turner” Said a woman, Richard recognised her as PC Hughes, she was a kind, gentle woman, but she was committed to her job.

“Hello PC Hughes, is this the body?” He asked, knowing full well it was.

“Yes, do you wish to see the extent of the violence?” She asked, slightly trembling. Richard took another deep breath and nodded his head in agreement. PC Hughes nodded her head to the coroner and he removed the blood stained sheet. Richard then ran to a nearby bush and vomited. What he just saw was no child; it was a random mess of blood and pulp.

PC Hughes was behind Richard, patting his back, making sure he didn’t choke.

“You were told how bad this case was” She said softly.

“I know” He said, with the vomit dripping from his mouth.

“You chose to take this case; do you want somebody else to take over?” Richard wiped his lip and said,

“Just give me a minute, I’ll be fine” PC Hughes said nothing and went back to the coroner.

Richard shook his head and stood straight up. He looked around the forest, it was a lush green and droplets of water littered the leaves and gave the place and aura of tranquillity. As he breathed in the air that cleared his lungs and cleared his nausea, he saw the vague shape of a person. A person draped in black, with long silver hair. Richard squinted his eyes and looked closer, the shape then looked at him and the trees all around him burst into flame. He fell backwards onto the wet soil and looked up at the trees, their branches were dancing with flames and charred leaves began to fall all around him. The group of police then ran over to him and dragged him away.

“What happened?” Asked PC Hughes,

“I don’t know, I saw something, and then it saw me! And then the trees set alight!” He shouted. Some of the officers thought he was going crazy, others were curious as to whether his story was true. PC Hughes put her arms around Richard, she kept whispering in his ear, telling him that everything was fine; he was going to be fine.

Several hours later, Richard was back at his apartment, drinking Bourbon and wondering what was in the tress earlier. He just sat there, thinking, and eventually he came to a decision. Maybe it was his curiosity, maybe it was the Bourbon, but whatever it was, he was compelled to go back to Beckwood Forest and find out what had caused those trees to burst into flames.

Within ten minutes, Richard was in his car and driving to Beckwood Forest, his mind still concentrating on that bizarre figure in the trees. When he finally arrived, he got out of the car and drank the last of Bourbon from the bottle, and smashed it on the ground. He took the Shotgun from his car and proceeded into the forest. The moonlight was enough to illuminate the forest so he could see. As he got deeper into the forest, he began to hear a faint cackling. Not very loud, but just a near silent cackle that chilled him to the bare bones. He put it to the back of his mind and kept on walking, he knew that if he did meet whatever caused those flames, he would put a hole through its stomach with the Shotgun.

Eventually, after scouting most of the forest, he began to smell a foul odour. He looked all around him and saw a faint white smoke drifting in the air. Seizing the moment, he walked on and the foul smell became stronger and stronger until a small cottage came into view. He had never seen this before; nobody had ever reported a cottage in the forest. He raised the Shotgun and approached the cottage. Outside the small house, there was a well and a vegetable patch. Maybe a hermit lived here, Richard thought. He then heard the cackle again, only this time it was louder, it was closer. He spun around and pointed the Shotgun into the trees and fired a warning shot. There was nothing but silence. Suddenly, an ear splitting screech broke the silence and Richard felt something hard collide with his head. He then fell face first onto the floor.

Richard awoke, tied to a wooden post, his shirt ripped and torn, his blood dripping onto the wooden floor. He was dazed and looked around, he blinked a few times and eventually his vision became clear. Richard saw three hunchback shapes, wearing black cloaks, one had silver hair, one had brown and one had black. They were saying odd chants and throwing dust everywhere, it suddenly registered to Richard who they were, and who had killed the children. These people were Witches! Richard tried to move but the knots were too tight. He screamed and the Witches turned to look at him, Richard screamed ever louder when he saw their faces. They had skin hanging from their cheeks, their eyes were blood red, they had blisters and warts beneath they’re bulging eyes and they had no noses.

In a line, the three of them slowly drifted towards him, they may not have had noses, but they could still smell his sweat, and his fear. Richard was terrified of these women; they seemed to be dancing around him, playing with him, teasing him.

“Now girls” One of them began, “We must not be impolite, I am Arts, these are my sisters Strickson and Watmore” Richard didn’t care, he was being tormented by these women.

“He’ll make a fine brew” Snarled the black haired which, she must have been Strickson; she had giggled when Arts said her name, “His muscled arms and legs will be perfect with those child insides” The three of them cackled uncontrollably. Richard kept wiggling his hands and the knots slowly loosened. The three Witches then drifted into another room. Richard saw his chance, with one almighty burst of strength; he broke the rope and untied his feet. His Shotgun was resting up against a cabinet; he quickly snatched it and hid behind a large cooking pot.

The three came back into the room and screeched when they saw Richard was gone,

“Where has he gone?” Spat Arts. Richard then sprung up from behind the cooking pot and said,

“Here!” The Witches screeched one again and Richard fired the Shotgun, it hit Strickson in the face and made her skull explode. Strickson fell to the floor and the rest of her mangled head smashed like a vase, her brain matter and the rest of the contents of her head leaked out onto the floor. Arts and Watmore screeched once again, but this time not from anger, this time in sorrow. Watmore then leaped onto Richard and pushed him to the floor, causing him to drop the Shotgun. She pinned him down with one hand and began to slash at him with her long nails. Richard screamed as the nails ripped his skin and they penetrated his flesh. Richard then snatched up the Shotgun and swung the butt of it and hit Watmore in the face. He heard her jaw snap and he fell onto the floor, writhing in pain. Richard then fired two shots; one hit her in the stomach and one hit in the top of her head. Her brain became a thousand pieces as soon as the Shotgun shell connected to it.

Richard got to his feet and saw Arts staring straight at him, she was silent, but her eyes were aflame. He was clutching his wounds and was using the Shotgun to keep his balance. Arts then made fire spring from her fingertips. Richard dived to his left but the flames caught him slightly and turned his skin a bright red. He aimed the shotgun at her and attempted to fire a round. The Shotgun just clicked, no shell came from it.

“Oh fuck!” He said, Arts then leapt onto him and sunk her teeth into his flesh. Richard struggled against her but it was no use, she kept sinking her teeth into him. Making his veins pop and the blood come gushing out. Richard saw a bottle filled with a bright green liquid, that he been knocked onto the floor during the struggle with Watmore. He grabbed hold of it and smashed it across Arts face. She didn’t screech, she screamed, an actual human scream as her face began to smoke. She then began to float in the air and was in the air over Richard. She screamed once again and her whole body began to smoke. With one final scream her whole body dissolved and the residue fell onto Richard. He had killed them all, he clutched the deep wound from Arts’ teeth and lay down on the blood stained floor. He had a slight grin on his face…He then died with this grin, painted across his face.

“Witch Brew” The Fourth Short Story By Divine-Insanity