Witches

Some vain witches in a mysterious forest

Three witches with frazzled hair that flies out in clumps, lined faces clumsily obscured with a thick patina of makeup, eyes turned into virtual bull's eyes with eyeliner. Their voices squeak like old doors and their every movement is scrambled and desperate. They let out high-pitched shrieks as they tussle over a glass bottle filled with shimmering red liquid. One of them snatches the bottle and starts to make off with it, but the other two let out ferocious screams and tackle her, sending the bottle flying into the bushes at the edge of the clearing. The witches dash over to the bottle and watch as the ruby red potion inside it drains out into the ground.

“Now look what you’ve done Bequetha!” the tallest one screeches. “The beauty potion is lost in the bushes and the boys will be here any minute!”

“The boys! The boys!” Bequetha squeals as she frantically hops up and down. The outrageously large bow pinned to her hair flopps into her face as she jumps and muffles her words. Frantically shoving the bow aside, she continues “The boys! They can’t see us like this! I have to hide! Quick, follow me behind this tree so they can’t see us.”

“Right! The tree!” The taller one says as she hurries to an old oak tree with Bequetha.

The last witch hesitates in the center of the clearing. “I just don’t understand why it matters so much what we look like” she calls after her sisters. “Have you ever thought that the boys might like us just the way we are?”

“They might like us just the way we are” the tall witch mimics in a squeakier-than-normal voice. “Don’t be silly Themelzda. No one ever liked a witch. They would laugh us right out of the forest if they saw how we really looked.”

“Right.” Themelzda ducks her head in acceptance and joins her sisters behind the tree.

Just then, Bequetha shushes them. “They’re coming, they’re coming.”

Sure enough, the sound of a beating drum can be heard drifting towards them and one can spot shapes moving through the trees in the distance. The shapes come closer until a parade of strange looking boys is marching right through the clearing. The leader is about five feet tall with a torn tweed jacket and slacks that dragged down past his feet. He jabs the air before him with a shiny green scepter and chants a tune

“We are the boys of the forest!

We sleep all day and we march all night

Our boots are worn but our hair is nice

Everyone swoons when they catch our sight

And we’ll carry you off if your looks suffice

Oh yes we are the boys of the forest!”

All the boys behind him join his chant.

The tall witch lets out a sigh of longing. “They’re all so beautiful in their colorful coats and old shoes.”

Bequetha points to a boy in the middle of the line who is wearing a baggy white shirt with bright red suspenders and purple pants. “You see that one. He’s my favorite. I think I’m in love with him.”

“I think I’m in love with all of them.” Themelzda murmurs dreamily.

The tall witch jabs her in the side. “I bet you care about looks now, Mrs. ‘they’ll like us for who we are’”

Themelzda nods vigorously. “You have to show me how to be pretty. I have to meet one of them!”

The tall witch’s eyes flash and a broad grin spreads across her face. “Now we’re talking!” she screeches. “Don’t worry Themelzda, I can make you look perfect. They’ll never guess what you really look like after I’m done with you!”

She graspes Themelzda’s hand and they whirl away through the forest.

Author's Note

I decided to experiment with using present tense instead of past tense, does it sound strange? Please let me know what you think.