The Witch

            She was down there.  I knew it.  We all gathered in the center cul-de-sac: Brittany and Brandon, Deja, and Caitlin.  Flip flops, sneakers, and bare feet against the blacktop, I took it upon myself to become the leader of our little troupe, as I was the oldest.  Looking around for adults that could be eavesdropping, I motioned for everyone to meet me behind one of the neighbor’s houses, and they all followed.  There was chatting while we moved, and as soon as we stopped and I turned around, it ceased.  Everyone was staring at me, waiting for indulgence on this “big secret” I had come across and needed to share.

            “Do you see that?” I motioned to the big, closed lid to the sewer.  Everyone nodded.  “Right under that lid, is a witch.  She lives down there, and she only comes out at night because the light hurts her eyes.”  I watched as their expressions changed from those of the innocent and realization flashed in their eyes.  Turning back, the Kentucky summer sun wasn’t shining down on the lid anymore.  It had taken on an aura of its own, and coldness filled the air.  The longer I looked at it, the more ominous it became, the air surrounding it becoming darker.  If I strained my ears, I could swear I could hear that old witch cackling at the idea no one would ever find her.  My eyes narrowed, and the others noticed.  We’d played together for such a long time that they knew when I was formulating a plan, and at that moment, I was trying to figure out how we’d get the lid off.

            “It looks scary.” Brandon commented, breaking the silence.

            “Exactly,” I answered authoritatively.  “That’s why we need to open it up.”  The younger kids gave me disbelieving looks, while Brittany nodded her head, signifying her approval.  As I described my plan to them, they began to come together, all eager to uncover the witch in hiding.  I told them we’d need tools to get it open, and that Brittany would be my right-hand-girl, like always.  We agreed to all go home, dig around in our garages and playrooms for items we could use to try and open it up, and meet back there in ten minutes.  Caitlin and I raced off in the direction of our house, and the others to their own.  After a few minutes of searching, all we could find was a jump rope, but I figured if we tied it around the bolts and pulled really hard, we might be able to get it open.

            We got back to the meeting spot second, after the empty-handed Deja, and it wasn’t long before the rest of our crew was meeting us.  We all pooled our items together, and looked at what we had.  There was our jump rope, a Barbie, and some toy tools.  Deciding the tools would be our best bet, I picked up a plastic wrench and placed it over the too-big bolt.  I gave it a few twists, not letting the fact the tool was too small deter me until I saw that there was no way it would work.  We then tried the hammer, the screwdriver, and then the jump rope.  I tied one end around one of the bolts, and the rest was to be pulled on.  I took up some rope nearest to the sewer, and the others joined in behind me.  We pulled and pulled, sweat dripping from our foreheads, our tiny arms and legs aching.  When we saw that wouldn’t work, we were reduced to trying to pry it open with our fingers.  The metal was harsh against our skin, and eventually we became too exhausted to continue.  Frustrated, I gave the lid a kick, and went back out to the cul-de-sac with the others. 

            As our mothers began calling us in for dinner, I turned back one last time to the lid to the sewer.  The twilight was bringing filtered sunlight through the leaves, and the lid looked as though there was a spotlight on it.  I thought it looked different from how we’d left it, and squinted to see it better, pushing my glasses up on my nose.  Right as I went to go inside, I could have sworn I saw the lid drop close.