the door to the barn and the flames from the forge doubled in size, nearly melting the skin from my body. I fell to the ground, perspiration dripping from my face and burning my eyes. The iron I had been casting fell to the ground next to me. Without taking so much as one step inside the barn, she was able to deliver the most painful injury one could receive from burning flames.
The iron piece lifted into the air slowly and hovered over my body. My shirt ripped open. I screamed in anticipation of the forthcoming horror. The piece slowly dropped onto my chest and burned into my flesh, branding me with the witch’s symbol. The pain was more than I could bear. My vision went black as night and I faded in and out of consciousness. Her voice was low and she spoke quickly in a language I could not understand. I know now that she was casting a spell upon my home.
My thirteen-year-old daughter, Clara, ran from the house yelling for me. The witch turned from me and raised her hand toward my daughter. She muttered the same words again. I mustered my strength, and pulled myself up from the ground. I grabbed a sharp iron rod that was to be part of the fence and rushed upon the witch, stabbing her through her heart with the iron rod. The sight I saw next was one I shall never forget.
Her skin turned an ashen purple. Black lines webbed across her face. Her hair transformed from a deep raven to a silvery white. She let out the most horrifying scream I have ever heard in my thirty-five years. Her body melted inside of her gown and vanished. Her clothing dropped to the ground in a rumpled heap.
Four dark snakes crawled out from under the clothing, hissing and slithering. I ran to the forge and secured an iron pole, which had been resting in the fire for some time. Its end was several hundred degrees in temperature. I lunged at the snakes and burned the blazing hot poker into one, stopping it in its tracks. The other three escaped the barn. I ran into the field in search of them, but the sun had fallen and the house lanterns did not burn bright enough to see the ground.
Clara, standing frozen in the same location, let out a blood-curdling scream. I ran quickly to her and attempted to console her.
Mary, my wife, ran from the house leaving our two younger daughters, Anna and Emma, asleep in their beds. She was unaware of the events that had transpired. Terror was visible on her face. She escorted us into the house for safety.
While Mary tended to Clara, seating her in a chair and patting her face with a wet cloth, I secured all the doors and windows to the home and loaded my rifle. I attempted to cull Mary’s fears while relaying as much of the events as she would be able to handle, to her.
I instructed Mary to put Clara to bed as she had the other children. Clara took many long moments to settle into slumber. I could hear her moaning, whimpering, and crying in her bedroom from my position near the main entrance of the house. She repeated words about a darkness that was coming for us many times over.
I paced the floor of our home, watching the doors and windows for signs of trouble. Mary made her way down the stairs and over to me. She pulled me to a chair near the brightly burning fire and made attempts to clean me with a cloth as she had with Clara. She wiped soot from my face, perspiration from my neck and chest. She pulled my shirt off and my brand was revealed. Just as cattle are marked by their owners, I had been marked by the witch.
“What is it?” Mary asked. I had no answer to give. My emotions were slowly getting the better of me. Not wanting to worry her any more than she already was, I dismissed her fears and sent her off to bed. I remained pacing the floors, guarding the home for the rest of the night.
My ears became incredibly attuned to the sounds outside of our home. They taught me noises I had never paid the slightest bit of attention to. The owls in the barn made ungodly screeches like never before. The shrubbery along the porch of the house rustled in the still,