by Karen Wills
This is an excerpt of a revised version of my very first ever story, written when I was in third grade.
Silky shrank behind the vat of black, bubbling brew. She watched Witch Gertrude put on her best black dress, her pointed hat, and then rub baby oil on the wart on her nose.
Silky hated Halloween for one big reason. She feared riding on skinny old broomsticks. She’d have to dig her claws deep into the handle or the wind might blow her off.
“Silky!” yelled Witch Gertrude, lifting a torch. “Where are you, my beastly beast? Let’s go!”
Shadows wavered on the walls like bats. Silky scrunched in her corner. Witch Gertrude looked behind rows of pickled wasp wings, under the table where bottles of beetle dust sat, behind the case of snakeskins, just everywhere.
Finally, she dunked her torch in a kettle of water. She peered into the shadows until she saw – two eyes, shining like candle flames.
“Aha, there you are,” she cackled. Grabbing Silky by the scruff of the neck, Witch Gertrude plopped her on the broomstick.
Silky hung on tight. They swished through the door and up into the starry sky. Under the orange moon, Witch Gertrude shrieked like a banshee, scaring owls, skunks, bats, and sweethearts.
Silky tried not to look down.
They sailed into a dark cloud. Wet mist plastered Silky’s fur flat to her skin.
“Witch Brunhilde! Watch where you’re going!” screamed Witch Gertrude, lying flat on her back.
Witch Brunhilde got up and started picking thorns out of her black dress. “I think I had the right-of-way,” she said. “Anyway, I was just out for a little Halloween fun.”
Silky had landed on her feet as cats usually do. She stretched and looked around. Suddenly, her back arched. Her black fur stood on end and she spit and hissed.
“What are you afraid of now?” snapped Witch Gertrude, rubbing all the places where she ached.
“Well, cast a spell on me,” said Witch Brunhilde. “It’s a jack-o-lantern. Humans make them, you know. They’re supposed to scare us witches away.”
“I’m sure we can do something about that,” Witch Gertrude said.
Silky could now see that the jack-o-lantern had a big, friendly grin. She tiptoed behind the witches.
A prodigy! ~ Ann
Well, my mom thought I was for sure. Karen
I chuckled at your story, and that is what stories are for. Pretty good for a third grader. Marie
Thanks, Marie. Silky winds up lighting a jack o lantern with her eyes after the witches blow out its candle. Then the little girl who owns the jack o lantern takes her home. I’ve owned two black cats in my life. They’re my favorite. Karen
A writer even at such a young age. We have a black kitty too.– Deb