The Jackson Witch

    “That simply will not do, Jeffrey,” Prudence said.
    Jeffrey reluctantly placed the toy car back on the shelves and stared at the floor while his mother double-checked her grocery list. They’d been in Jackson’s Foods for less than ten minutes, and already Prudence Hyatt had scolded Jeffrey several times. A young boy of about seven, Jeffrey had been categorically deconstructed by his mother before he’d had any chance to develop. He was dressed in miniature clothing: shined black leather dress shoes, rough wool slacks, a button-down shirt, and a small, one button blazer. His hair was kept very short, and he endured it with the same awkward embarrassment imbued into the face of a sheared lamb. He was all restraint and capped emotion, having long been trained by his mother just what mold was appropriate to be in whilst in public.
    Prudence picked a can of fruit cocktail from the shelf, and held it up in the light to inspect it. Jeffrey never could tell what she was looking for, but everything that entered the shopping cart was required to go through this rigorous process. Seemingly satisfied, she set it into the cart, careful to align it with the rest of the groceries, and made a perfect check mark next to “Fruit Cocktail” on her shopping list.
    “Come along, Jeffrey,” she said, and started piloting the cart around the end of the row of canned goods, leading them over to Aisle 8. Jeffrey kept a close distance to his mother’s thick legs, looking doleful as his eyes scanned all the things he was forbidden to touch.  
    On the left side of the aisle were rows and rows of toilet paper, paper towels, and at the far end a small selection of sanitary napkins. On the right, brightly colored cleaning products of all kinds boasted slogans like, “No stains remain!”, and “Oxygenated Action!”. Jeffrey didn’t read very well, but he liked looking at all the bright colors and pictures of cartoon bubbles on the labels. He wanted to touch them, but resisted the urge.
     His mother was laboring over her grocery list, determining the best path through the store to pick up the rest of the items she needed, while never passing an aisle twice. Prudence Hyatt was nothing if not efficient. Even her housedress looked efficient, devoid of the usual playful floral print and instead a no-nonsense flat black.
    Another shopper turned into the aisle, and Jeffrey immediately recognized it as their neighbor, Mr. Edelweiss. Mr. Edelweiss was an older man in his sixties, who sometimes tried to give Jeffrey a piece of candy, or tell him a story. Prudence, of course, always forbid the candy.
    Upon seeing his straight-laced neighbors, Mr. Edelweiss waved from the end of the aisle, and formed a warm grin on his wrinkled face. He made a mock salute to Jeffrey, and the little boy smiled and raised his hand to his temple to salute back. Mr. Edelweiss added a few items to his cart and rolled along until he was in speaking distance of mother and son.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Hyatt,” he said politely.
    “Mr. Edelweiss,” she replied, dipping her head at him in condescension.
    “And a very good morning to you, young sir,” he said, bowing a little in Jeffrey’s direction.
    Jeffrey smiled. He always liked it when Mr. Edelweiss called him a “young sir”. It made him feel important.
    “Morning,” Jeffrey said back, a little meekly.
    “Had any adventures yet today?” Mr. Edelweiss asked him.
    Prudence frowned at the old man, but went about carefully reading labels on some of the cleaners.
    “Nope, not yet,” Jeffrey replied, already starry-eyed by the simple mention of an idea like “adventure”.
    “Well there’s plenty to be had in Jackson’s. You know, it might look like an ordinary grocery store,” Mr. Edelweiss said, and leaned a little closer to Jeffrey, “but the truth is there’s a witch that’s loose somewhere in the store.”
    Prudence harrumphed and cocked her head at Mr. Edelweiss, inflicting her patented stare of doom. He was impenetrable, and took a small bon-bon from his pocket to give to Jeffrey.
    Jeffrey’s eyes lit up. He knew Mr. Edelweiss liked to tell stories, but what if there really was a witch somewhere in the grocery store? The thought frightened and exhilarated him all at once. He jumped a little when the overhead public address system crackled on, and the voice of Jackson’s manager, Augustan Harlow, came out through the speakers.
    “Would the owner of a red Plymouth Valiant please come to the Customer Service Center? Owner of a red Valiant, please come to the Service Center.”
    Prudence perked up her ears, and felt herself flush, which she hated. A scowl spread over her face as she realized it was her automobile in question, and that she would be interrupted in her meticulous shopping by something that must obviously be some sort of mistake. She looked at the cart, and the old man entertaining her son with his foul stories.
    “Mr. Edelweiss, it seems I’m being called to the front about my automobile,” Prudence said. She always called them automobiles, and had never uttered the word “car”.  
    “It seems so,” he said, smiling broad.
    “Would it be an intrusion to ask you to watch over Jeffrey and the groceries while I speak with the clerk?” she asked, mortified at even having to ask.
    “Of course not, I’d be honored to look after the little tyke,” he said, and gave Jeffrey a wink.
    Prudence gave one more quick scowl before hurrying off to see what all the fuss with her automobile was about. Once out of sight, Jeffrey felt more relaxed, and began to ask the old man questions.
    “Is there really a witch?” he said.
    “Most definitely there is, young sir. But she’s hard to spot, tends to move around a lot,” Mr. Edelweiss said, and handed Jeffrey a bon-bon. “But you know, witches are always changing their shape, so sometimes you might not even know if she‘s around.”
    “What do they change their shape to?” Jeffrey asked, popping the bon-bon into his mouth and hearing his mother scold him in his head.
    “Oh all kinds of things. She could be in a box of instant potatoes, or a carton of eggs, or she might decide to disguise herself as a can of fruit cocktail,” Mr. Edelweiss said, and Jeffrey peered closely at the can in the shopping cart, squinting to see if it was really a witch.
    “Might even look just like a regular person,” Mr. Edelweiss said, and smiled his warm smile.
    “Sometimes they can even look like someone you know,” he finished.
    Jeffrey looked around, as though every bottle of detergent might be an evil creature waiting to kidnap him. He was alight with this new information. He peered around more cautiously, trying to ready himself for any sneak attack that might come from an old hag.
    “And witches can be tricky, too,” Mr. Edelweiss said. “Very sneaky.”
    “What do witches want?” Jeffrey asked.
    “Sometimes they want to kidnap people, to boil them up into stew for their evil spells,” Mr. Edelweiss said in a whisper. Jeffrey gasped.
    “They do?”
    “Or sometimes they just want to cause some mischief,” he said, and patted the boy on the head. “Never can be too careful.”
    “How do you know if someone’s a witch?” Jeffrey asked.
    “Well, in the old days they used to tie a big stone to someone they suspected as a witch, and then they’d throw them in a lake to see if they’d float,” Mr. Edelweiss said.
    “Really?” Jeffrey said, his eyes wide while he clucked the bon-bon around in his mouth.
    “But that’s not a very good way to find out,” he said, and leaned down closer to Jeffrey.
    The old man smelled musty, and his breath had an acrid undertone.
    “Really the best way is to scratch them,” Mr. Edelweiss said.
    Jeffrey made a puzzled face.
    “Scratch them?”
    “That’s right. They used to say that when you scratch a witch and make it bleed, it eases their suffering and sends their soul to God,” Mr. Edelweiss said. “The more scratches the better.”
    “What do you scratch them with?” Jeffrey asked.
    “Doesn’t matter, I suppose. As long as you draw blood,” Mr. Edelweiss said.
    Prudence Hyatt came rigidly back into Aisle 8, and appeared a little flustered.
    “Thank you for watching over Jeffrey, Mr. Edelweiss. I assume you weren’t filling his head with nonsense,” she said.
    “Oh no, ma’am. Just the essentials,” Mr. Edelweiss said, and winked at Jeffrey.
    “Any trouble with your car?” Mr. Edelweiss asked.
    Prudence gave him a dull look, and surveyed the rest of the items on her shopping list.
    “Just a problem with the parking brake,” she said.
    Jeffrey tried to look closely at her, to see if she was really a witch disguised as his mother.
    “Come along, Jeffrey,” Prudence said, leading the cart down to the next aisle.
    Mr. Edelweiss saluted, and Jeffrey mimicked the motion back to him before scuttling after Prudence.
    They rounded a few more aisles, sticking closely to Prudence’s neurotic shopping list, until they turned into the freezer section. It was located at the back right corner of the store, where a long row of glass doors housed boxes of frozen foods, and bags of rock-hard vegetables. One of the hanging florescent lights overhead flickered at a bothersome speed. No other customers were present in the cold aisle, and Jeffrey tried to keep his guard up, growing ever more suspicious of this might-be-witch who looked like his mother.
    Maybe she’s still talking to the clerk, he thought.
    Prudence was reading the label on a bag of frozen peas, when she felt a sharp pain on the back of her left calf.
    “Ouch!” she yelped, and whipped round to see Jeffrey clawing at her leg with his tiny fingernails.
    “Jeffrey! Stop that this--” she started to say, but was cut off as he dragged his fingernails deep and long over her pale skin and varicose veins.
    “Owww!” she cried again. His nails felt like tiny razors, and a few faint drops of blood seeped from the raw red streaks he’d left.
    He switched to the other leg, and started burrowing hurriedly into her flesh with the immediacy of a dog burying a bone. Prudence reached out to push him away, yelling out in pain, but Jeffrey grabbed hold of her arms and scaled her like a mountain, until he could grab her hair between clenched fists. Her head jerked to the side and she cried out from the searing pain on her scalp, tipping over to the ground after becoming top-heavy with Jeffrey. She flailed as she fell, and yelled wildly until her head hit the hard tile floor with a sickening thud. She went quiet.
    Jeffrey continued to claw at her face until his hands were wet and red, determined to save the people of Jackson’s Foods and send this witch away. As he tore at her face, a woman entering the freezer section screamed, and quickly darted away to find help. When he was satisfied, Jeffrey leaned back panting, and saw Mr. Edelweiss walk past the corner. He lifted his hand in a salute to the boy, and Jeffrey brought his own red hand up to mimic the gesture back.

Reviews

[DavidRyanM]

Wow. Definitely dark, my friend. Awesome stuff. I love the idea of making the stories about the characters and what's going through their minds. Your writing has taken the approach of making everything seem like it could happen in reality, but having a feeling of fantasy along with it. I don't think you went too far...so don't worry about that. I love that this went from a story about a child with his mother in a grocery store, seemingly innocent tale, to the murdering of his mother and the sense of "I've done something right here." And, who's to say he didn't. For all we know, she could have been a witch. I salute you, Sir.