At first I didn’t understand why they warned me to stay away from the witch who lived just beyond the edge of town.
Her warm smile offered sympathy for my pain, and when she invited me inside, I found her hospitality impossible to refuse.
They said she was a predator who lived with only one foot in our world, that the rest dwelled somewhere Beyond.
But her small cottage felt more like a home than the place I grew up did. A crackling fire and the smell of spices I could not name brought comfort I sorely needed.
They warned me that—if I had to deal with her—I must not eat or drink what she offered, nor accept any gift without payment.
Yet a sip of the hot tea she poured relaxed the tension I’d stopped noticing in my neck, and her honeyed pastries crumbled delicately with each bite.
They urged me to scrutinize every word for trickery, but, ah! How her stories made me laugh! And when I shared my troubles, she responded with thoughtful words and sharp insight.
I lost track of time conversing openly and freely with her as though with an old friend.
Above all else they impressed on me how I must guard my mind against her.
Enchanted by my host’s piercing gaze drawing out my deepest desires, that worry never crossed my mind. Her eyes caught the firelight like gems, and with every blink fewer eyelids closed than opened.
Perhaps they said I must harden my heart, but I forgot such words when the dam burst and out flooded the tears I’d held back for years.
She unfurled herself, embracing me with every limb. I squeezed my eyes shut, and her kind gaze lingered in my vision, staining the darkness.
They certainly insisted I not tarry long with her, and in the end I chose to also reject this last piece of advice.
It wasn’t a blanket she wrapped me in, but I felt its comfort all the same.
It wasn’t arms she carried me with, but her strength was undeniable.
Even with my eyes closed and my mind drifting away on the tides of her attention, I knew that what she laid me down on was not a bed.
Still this place was quiet and full of warmth, and her whispers in my head assured me that I would be safe here until I was ready to emerge.
Whoever ignores their warnings—they said—disappears, never to be seen again.
Maybe they were right after all. The person who left home in search of a witch is not the thing I am now after meeting her, and that person will not be coming back.
I am not yet what I will be.
I have not yet become me.
But I am sure they’ll have more to say about me when the day comes.
I look forward to it.