Little Witch In A Pink House

She wasn’t a typical witch, but her magic was real

photo by LunaMarina — purchased by author

I walked by the witch’s house every afternoon on the way home from kindergarten. I knew a witch lived there because all the children talked about it in hushed voices. They said she only came out at night, and if she ever saw a little girl or boy close by, she would turn them into a ceramic creature for her garden. I was terrified but fascinated by the place. I would stand there, with my plastic, Care Bear lunch box in one hand and my Dairy Queen trapper keeper in the other and just stare.

It did not look like the typical home of a witch. It was a small trailer, painted bubblegum pink. Fake flowers were stuffed into its edges, bursting out in a rainbow of color, and the door was painted in beautiful curly Q’s. Old, wrought iron table and chairs, that looked like they were made of lace, were spray painted white and set for an invisible tea party. Ceramic gnomes of all kinds frolicked past sun bleached toadstools that shaded a menagerie of tiny animals and moss. There was so much to see; I never failed to discover something new before being pulled out of my daydreams by the sound of my mom calling me from the end of our drive.

One day, while staring at the glittery curtains that shimmered in the window, I was surprised to see a face staring back at me. I was so…