The Trouble with a Witch, Part Three

The words on the paper she had handed me made no sense. I stumbled and stuttered my way through them. "Terguuuum occctoooo annnnis."

She bent down, looked me in the eyes. "It's tergum octo annis. It's Latin."

I managed to stutter out. "I don'tttt know Laaatin."

She whirled around as she moved across the room. "Try it again," she ordered then repeated it again and again after each time I read it out loud. Until finally, she shouted "That's perfect. Now again. Now again. Now again!"

Without thinking, I did. "Tergum octo annis."

I had no idea what I was saying other than a bunch of mumbo jumbo in Latin. I thought for sure that I was about to turn into a a frog.

The old house began rumbling on its foundation. I felt the floor boards shake under me. Dust showered down from the ceiling. I could hear glass breaking somewhere. I thought for sure it was going to cave in us.

"Tergum octo annis." I started shouting over the rattling of the house.

The witch continued to twirl around and around the room like a gypsy doing a dance, paying no attention to the impending doom of the house collapsing. Her hands as high as they could go. Her skirt flaring out.

"Keep reading it over and over and over...," she shouted.

"Tergum octo..."

Scared out of my mind, I finally tossed the paper into the air and watched it float around the room. I leapt from the chair and raced to the door. The house stopped shaking and went silent and still. I couldn't hear the witch.

I yanked on the door knob, twisting and turning it will all my strength. It didn't budge. Looking over my shoulder, I couldn't see her. Then with one hard tug, the knob turned and the door flew open. I ran out onto the porch and stopped. The yard was immaculate and clean. Roses bushes overflowed with white and red flowers. Daisies, petunias, black-eyed Susans. Butterflies and bees.  The house looked like it had been returned back to when it was first built.  The paint fresh. The shutters neatly hung.  The windows clean and clear.

Before I could move, I felt hands on my shoulders and could feel her moving close to me. Her lips near my left ear.

She whispered.  "You did it. You brought the garden back to life."

I was amazed at what I saw. My mind could hardly wrap itself around the fact that everything had bloomed and looked fresh and new.

Turning around to look at her, she had changed. Her hair was thin and white. Her hands bony and blotched. Her face shrunken and wrinkled. Now, she looked like a witch. She lunged forward, grabbed me back the arm, and dragged me towards the front door and back into the house.

"Come along! I need you to read more." Her hand was like ice, making my forearm ache. I thought for sure it would give me frost-bite.  I started kicking and pushing her, trying to release it from my arm.

Just then, by some divine intervention, there was a rumble of thunder.  Above, dark clouds flowed quickly over us. It began to rain.  The witch screamed as the drops fell and landed on her.  Where they hit on her skin began to burn.  She wailed louder and fled inside.  The door slammed behind her.

I fell backwards down the steps and blacked out.

The next thing I remember was water splashing on my face and going up my nose. Mr. Pruitt stood over me with a bucket.

"Well now," said Mr. Pruitt. "Looks like he just passed out. Probably overcome with fear."

"You alright, Tommy?" asked Grandma Alfred. "What happened?" She helped me up.

I looked around and the yard was barren and bleak just like when I first saw it. The derelict house looked as it did when I first went the stairs. "I... I thought that... The witch. Where is she?" I felt my head and chest. "She didn't cut me up and throw me in her pot."

For a brief moment, I would have swore on the family bible that I saw a bony hand pull the curtain back and look out. I would have sworn it.

That wasn't the last time I saw her.  I was much older when she appeared again in my life.  But that is the trouble with a witch.  They never leave you alone, at least not me, until they've won.