Tabatha's Pond

Based on the German fairy tale.

Sylvia the Witch stumbled through the heart of the Black Forest, the pond water in her belly sloshing like a shaking glass of wine during an earthquake. Sylvia had the faint urge to vomit as her belly ached, but she continued toward her home deeper beyond the abundance of trees, most still standing, others fallen to rot away. An inch below the hand that gripped her belly, a knife poked through.

Early one morning, Sylvia was hungry. Her diet ranged from toads to bark; she munched on what she could get her hands on. Most days were spent in front of her home surrounded by leafless trees that stared down at her. The creaking of her rocking chair was the only sound that could be heard for miles.

Sylvia dreamt of her sister and mother who had both been burned when she was only seven years old. They were executed for the same reason dozens of others were: witchcraft. The number of executed women who were practiced witches Sylvia did not know. She was aware, though, that her family was rightfully accused. This did not make watching their skins boil in flame any easier.

A hundred yards from a recollecting witch, a fiery-haired girl named Tabatha spotted smoke spewing from above the army of trees. Her feet crunched on top of autumn leaves and broken twigs, becoming lost after taking a number of incorrect turns within the forest. Tabatha would take long walks almost every afternoon, usually to find food, but other times to clear her head. On this particular day, she had traveled farther than normal. She made the decision to reach the cabin in the distance and ask for directions from whoever lived there. Tabatha daydreamed of flowers and small animals while she walked. Upon reentering reality, it came to her that she had not been paying attention of where she'd been walking. Slightly panicked at the thought of dying in this forest, images of surviving off skinned meat and small plants were displayed in her mind's eye. In contradiction to her innocent appearance, Tabatha was an excellent huntress. What brought fear into her heart was the idea of being alone. “Is anybody out there?” she cried in front of her. With her hands cupped around her mouth: “Anybody!”

Less than a mile away, Sylvia the Witch smiled at the sound.

Tabatha is something of a witch herself. When she was only an infant, three witches invaded her home, a mother and two daughters. Tabatha's mother was turned to dust, her husband transformed into a toad before being swallowed by the youngest witch. Tabatha the Infant could not be left unharmed, the oldest witch decided. While she cried in her crib, the witch placed a bony finger to Tabatha's chest. The witch bellowed a spell and felt her fingertip perform the enormity. Tabatha would possess the ability to morph into a small pond upon her will. She would be considered an outcast for the remainder of her life as well as an orphan. To the witch's dismay, Tabatha believed the power to be a blessing.

It would come in handy one day, she knew.

After a few moments with no response, Tabatha continued forward. Leaves crunched, wind periodically howled in her ears. Through the trees, a log cabin stood. Tabatha examined it cautiously, quietly. An elderly woman sat upon a rocking chair, each creak echoed through the forest. A twig snapped under Tabatha's shoe " the creaking discontinued. Something was not right about the cabin and its resident. It would be difficult to survive out here all alone, especially for a woman of this age. Tabatha proceeded, however, for if she did not find a way back home, she would be equally lonely.

The old woman got to her feet, balancing on a small branch. She approached Tabatha to greet her, but when she stepped off her porch, the poorly crafted cane snapped in two. The woman fell to the grass, moaned in pain. Tabatha ran to her, grabbed her arm gently and helped her to her feet. “Oh dear,” the woman said when she was back on her feet. “Thank you, young lady.” She had a beetle-sized wart on her nose, wore a dark cloak, and had developed a noticeable hunch.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” was the first thing that came to Tabatha.

The woman gave a playful scoff. “Why, this is my home, dear.” Tabatha realized this, but the question as to why her home was constructed so deep within the untraveled terrain still lied unanswered. She guided the woman by the arm back to her rocking chair. “Let us hope this remains unbroken,” she joked.

“I am sorry to disturb you, miss, but I am lost within this infinite wood,” Tabatha explained. The woman smiled pleasantly, began to rock in her chair.

“Never fear, dear. My cane has failed me; I can find a suitable branch and guide you back the way you came.” She stammered to her feet without the help of Tabatha and smiled ear-to-ear, her wrinkles accented. “We will be killing two birds with one stone.”

The duo advanced through the forest at a slow pace. There was no rush, thought Tabatha. As long as I am returned home, I shall be content. “The voyage will take time,” informed the woman, “and the sun is already beginning to vanish.”

“We will rest within the wood and continue in the morning,” Tabatha presumed. The elderly woman agreed with an unseen one-sided smirk.

Tabatha perched up against a tree stub, placing her small bag next to her. Inside was an apple, a sharp knife she used for hunting, and a book about vampires. Vampires used to frighten a young Tabatha, but as she aged she grew to adore them. Fear is so often combated by love. “Rest, child,” the woman insisted, “and I will find a cane to better our travels before the sun is gone entirely.” Tabatha nodded thankfully and laid her head against the stub. She opened her eyes after a moment to watch the woman go.

Night engulfed the world and Tabatha did not feel safe.

Sylvia did not really need a cane. The entire happening had been scripted upon the girl's arrival. She used this opportunity as a diversion. When the deary has fallen victim to tiredness, then I will strike, Sylvia thought to herself, feeling the kitchen knife tucked in her belt under the black cloak.

Sylvia returned to the girl after almost an hour of walking mindlessly through the forest. Tabatha snored lightly, her eyes closed. Sylvia unsheathed the kitchen knife and took small steps toward the small girl whose hair seemed to glimmer against the moonlight.

A twig crunched beneath Sylvia's sandal, Tabatha's eyes snapping open to meet the old woman and the glowing knife in her hand. Tabatha got to her feet quickly: “What are you doing?” she cried.

“I am hungry, child,” Sylvia explained, justification in her tone. “I have not had a decent dining for centuries, you must understand. My acts are just, and not personal in the slightest. But now that you are conscious, I will give your poor soul a fair advantage.” Sylvia stood less than two feet from Tabatha. “My back will be turned, and upon the count of ten, you will be hunted.”

“Ten seconds is not my idea of an advantage, demon.”

“For that accusation, I will give you five,” Sylvia replied angrily. She turned and before Tabatha could think twice, she grabbed her bag off the tree stub and began to sprint in the opposite direction of the witch.

“FIVE!” Sylvia called out. Tabatha moved briskly through the forest, her destination anywhere but in the vicinity of the hungry witch. “FOUR!” " Tabatha tripped on her own feet " “THREE!” " She got to her feet " “TWO!” " The grass squished under her feet as she dodged trees " “ONE! ZERO!”

Sylvia listened for a sound, smiled at the echo of snapping twigs behind her. The girl would be eaten whole before dawn: the witch was sure of this. She turned, excited, and advanced toward the source of the echoes. It had been long since she last dined, but the girl would fill her empty stomach nicely.

Less than an hour passed before the source of the echoes died off. Sylvia continued forward nonetheless, a dose of worry filling her gut like poison. The moonlight reflected off a pond within the forest. This was the witch's forest; she'd traveled through every inch of the terrain over the centuries, and never had she seen such a pond.

Sylvia was also aware of the spell being used.

She neared the pond's edge, sheathed her knife, and bent down to drink. She slurped the pond water down, her fingers intertwined, acting as a cup. The witch was relieved that she had outsmarted her opponent, but the idea of eating the girl still subtly pleased her more than victory.

The witch took a knee. The knife carved a deeper gash. Her belly ached no longer because of a harsh cramp, but due to the excruciating pain as blood flowed from her stomach. A set of fingers gripped the sliced flesh and ripped outward, creating an open hole in the witch. The small girl continued to cut and push outward, a portal of flesh eventually allowing her to slide out of the witch's gaping wound like a newborn child.

Sylvia the Witch couldn't help but giggle through the pain, for the legend that few knew went something like this: The mortal who defeats an empowered being such as a witch, shall gain the life of said being. Sylvia fell over, a pool of red liquid forming around her corpse. A bloody Tabatha laid breathlessly on the grass, her knife still gripped tightly in her hand.

Tabatha never returned home. Within the next few days, she had found refuge back at the witch's own cabin. The young girl found it to be a fine temporary home. Every day for the next year, Tabatha would travel out into the forest in search of the other side, in search of her home. She never succeeded.

The few souls who embark on a trip through the infinite Black Forest, much like young Tabatha, will find that once deep enough, their exit no longer exists. Instead, they will find a cabin and a periodic pond.

© 2014 Michael Acciarino

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C. Rose

The perspective was a bit tricky to follow. I think the first part is from Sylvia's perspective and the next part is more about Tabatha. Try to avoid telling. It isn't important for the reader to know right away that Sylvia's family was burned for witchcraft and it would be more exciting for the reader to see Tabatha turn into a pond instead of be told about how it happened. I was confused when I realized that Sylvia was the old woman. I like that I didn't expect her to hunt Tabatha. At the start of the story I thought witches were persecuted and not inherently evil, but later I notice that all the examples (the witches that killed Tabatha's parents and cursed her and now Sylvia) are killers.

Your voice and writing style are assets. Watch out for perspective and telling.