Storytelling Week 13: The Witches' Return

Mary stepped her foot out of her car and felt a chill in the air. As she exited her taxi, she observed the manor she had recently inherited. Only a few months ago, she was struggling to pay rent for a one person apartment in South Chicago. Now she was standing at the threshold of her late aunt's estate in Northern Ireland just a few miles West of Belfast. She had never known her aunt Shelly, in fact she knew very little of her family at all. When Mary was a child, her parents had both drowned in a flood while she was safely at a baby sitter's house. Her godparents told her what they knew about her parents, but even they weren't very knowledgeable about her father's estranged sister. The news of her death was sad, but more so exciting for Mary as she was the sole remaining member of her family. Which meant she inherited all the wealth and estates of aunt Shelly.
The taxi drove away after Mary had payed the driver, but Mary felt as though she wasn't alone. She spun around hoping to catch the eyes she could feel burning their gaze into the back of her skull, but all she saw was an old well at the edge of the fence. Something drew her to this well, like one is drawn to edge of a cliff to take a peek at the bottom. The stones were crumbled and worn. A great big wooden lid was secured on top of the opening. Weeds had grown long around it, and vines inched their way up the cracks between the stones. Mary heard a small voice call her name. It sounded as though it was coming from the well. She thought at first that it was the wind, but again she heard it call her. She cautiously pushed the lid off with no small amount of straining. The darkness below felt as though it crawled up and out as Mary gazed into the well. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Mary let out a cry as she turned to see who stood behind her. It was a young man, with stubble on his chin and soft green eyes. He spoke with an Irish accent, "My apologies, miss! It wasn't my intention to frighten you."
Mary reeled back to catch her breath which she didn't realize she had been holding. "No, it's fine. I am just being jumpy. I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked politely.
"My name's John, though people round here call me Pip. I'm the grounds keeper for Miss Shelly's estate. Who are you?" he replied with a reciprocated politeness.
Mary relaxed at this, and smiled. "I'm Shelly's Niece. I was told I inherited this place from her."
"Ah, yes. Miss Mary. I thought you looked like her, with that red hair and sharp blue eyes! In fact your the spitting image of Miss Shelly when she was a young fair lass."
Mary blushed and replied, "Thank you, sir. I'll have to keep you around if you keep talking like that."
"I didn't know there was chance you wouldn't keep me around," Pip said surprised, "I've been here most of my life. Since I was a lad, Miss Shelly let me work for her."
"I'm sorry, Pip. I was only joking. Will you not give me a tour?" Mary asked.
Pip's face lit up with a smile, "Of course, Ma'am. Right this way!"
Pip led her through the main house where aunt Shelly lived. He told her that the house is well over 400 years old, though it had been renovated and expanded in the previous century. In the living room there was a great fireplace with two arm chairs facing toward it. In the back of the room was an antique table with twelve chairs sat around it. Mary thought it odd, since her aunt was known as a bit of a recluse, according to Pip. The rest of the house was well furnished and decorated with all kinds of Celtic artwork. After the tour, Pip retired to the secondary house that was a stone's throw from the main house.
Mary was left to herself in her new home. She lit the fireplace and sat down with a cup of tea in one of the arm chairs. Darkness soon fell on the estate. As she relaxed she felt a great weriness come over her. Mary attributed it to jet lag. When she about to nod off, she noticed a book on the side table beside the armchair. Curiously, she thumbed through the pages. It was her aunt's journal by the look of it. She knew she shouldn't read it, but she wanted to know her aunt's final thoughts before she died. Mary flipped to the final page that had writing on it. it read:

"Again the knocking has started. Open up, Open up, they said. I had no choice. The horns. One horn, two horn, three horn... twelves horns. Every night. Eating blood cake. Pippy can't help. I heard them talk about the well. and the mantle. I need the mantle. Pip threw it in the well, I saw him. I need to go get it or they will eat my blood for the rest of my life!"

Mary was regretful that she had read the book. Pip said her aunt spoke of strange women in the night and went on about some mantle, but they were just the ramblings of a old lonely woman. It made her sad that her aunt suffered so. She also remembered how Shelly died. Mary was told back in the States that Shelly had drowned. Could she have fallen in the well? These thoughts were worrisome, but not enough to keep the exhausted Mary from closing her eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.
                                                                               ...
Mary awoke to a loud knocking on the door. She put on her robe and walked all the way downstairs to the front door. Thinking it was Pip needing something, she opened the door. A woman with a horn growing from her head stepped in. She thanked Mary and walked over the the table with twelve seats. Mary wanted to protest, but she felt her mouth closed shut. Soon another knock came, and she was compelled to walk over and open it. A woman with two horns on her head entered and sat at the table. This continued again and again. Each time the number of horns grew until the twelfth woman entered with twelve gnarled horns. They began chanting and cutting themselves with knives. Mary watched horrified. The monstrous woman commanded her to make them a cake, and she obeyed. After that, they commanded her to bring them water. She went to the faucet in the kitchen, but no water came out. When she told them this, they hissed and cursed at her. She was thrown against the wall by a tremendous force. They sent Mary to get water from Pip's house. The witches were also very clear that she should not get near the well, or she would meet the same fate as the rest of her family.
Once outside, Mary felt autonomy again and fell to the ground weeping. Whatever was in her house, was there to stay. She went to Pip's house and went to the faucet. Still no water. Mary screamed in frustration and fear. What would they do to her if she again brought back no water? She went to awaken Pip, but he wouldn't stir. She noticed he had slices on his wrists that she hadn't noticed earlier, and his face was pale. Fearing that Pip was dead and that the witches would do the same to her, she hurried to the well to draw some water. That's when she heard the voice. A small whisper coming from the well. It beckoned to her. Then she remembered aunt Shelly's desire to get some mantle from the well. Mary figured if the witches were afraid of it, it only made since they'd warn her from going near the well. After what felt like an eternity, Mary climbed in and down. The water on the bottom was cold and the light of the moon was barely visible from down there. Mary shivered at the thought of her poor aunt drowning down there. Then she felt some kind of fabric floating in the water. The mantle! She wrapped it around her and tried to climb out. At first she struggled, but then a small force helped her out. "Go," a voice whispered, "I will help thee. Call forth the fire of old. For they hath avoided it far too long. Hell licks its lips for their taste."
Mary ran back into the house holding the veil in her hand. When the witches saw her enter the living room, they commanded her to stop. Instead, Mary took the veil and shouted, "Fire I call you! Take what is yours!" and she threw the mantle into the fire place. The witches screamed and the house shook violently. The twelve woman began to flee for the door, but it would not open. "Open up! Open up door!"
As they scratched and pleaded, the fireplace's flame grew and became like a great arm. It grabbed each one and pulled them in its heart. The screaming continued, but grew distant. Soon Mary was alone in the house. She went and sat down on the armchair and fell asleep. Mary woke up to Pip opening the curtains letting light flow through the room. She could smell the breakfast Pip had prepared for her in the kitchen. He prodded her to get up and eat, there was a lot of work to do as far as paper work went. Just a dream, Mary thought to herself as she got up to walk to the kitchen. Then she noticed something in the fire place. A small piece of fabric, black and burnt. She looked out the window, and saw the well, the lid slid off and placed beside it. Mary went to eat breakfast with Pip.

Author's Note: This is by far the longest story I've written yet. I really like horror stories, so I wanted to get the details in. This story is based on the tale of the horned women, in which an Irish wife and her family are plagued by witches forcing their way into the families home. In the original story, a spirit in a well instructs the woman on how to fool the witches to flee and she gains one of their mantles in the process. The story ends saying that the mantle protected the family for 500 years. I wanted to continue the story to the newest generation in which the witches are able to return and wreck havoc again. This time however, Mary is able to end their evil actions once and for all. I also made the ending purposefully unresolved as to whether she was dreaming or if all that actually happened.

Image: (First image)Creepy looking well posted by Alex Santosa; Source: Flickr
(Second image)An old well posted on Pixabay; Source: Pixabay

Source:Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1892).