The Witch Within (2 page)

Oh God, I can’t believe the time has come! My grandmother’s presage has really come true and I'm on the run, escaping all that I know to be secure, and the people that I used to love. I finally reach the hill where my grandmother and I used to pick herbs and behold a tall wooden cross – the silent guard that protects us and warns us about the Cursed Lands that spread beyond. The view overwhelms me; the murky valley of the bright yellow-green marshes and behind it the deep forests, my ghastly destination. I'm aware that once I cross this threshold, I will be forever lost. Only God-forsaken or completely desperate souls enter these lands. No one with a sane mind would dare to explore it, for it's haunted by the spirits of ancient warriors, my ancestors who died on the battlefield which now lies beneath the marshes.

I gaze upon the cross and hesitate. Shall I cross myself for protection? Will it help? Do I even believe that it helps? Am I a heretic if I question my belief?

I wish I could go back to who I was - the chaste maiden who prayed to our Lord. Why do I feel as if the Lord has abandoned me? Or even worse, that he has never been at my side. That he has never really existed. Why is he, HE? Why is it all about the big and gracious HIM? HIM, the Holy Spirit, HIM, the Holy Father, HIM, the Holy Son.

Who are you, God? Are you really just a strict wise father who judges me just like my own father does? If that is so, then give me a sign. Give me a sign that you exist and I will return and accept my blame, repent all my deeds and fade away. I will sacrifice my life in order to be cleansed and finally reunited with you. Father of the heavens, if YOU really ARE, then give me a sign! Please. Now.

Silence.

The sky turns grey. The sullen valley slowly fades into the growing mist. Oh, how poor this land is! It has experienced so many wars, its ground swallowed too much blood and too many tears. It's sadder than any cemetery, for the spirits of the warriors don’t rest here, they are hungry for attention. I'm aware that they have surrounded me now, humming to my death march:

“Welcome, dear child, welcome into our realm,

We've been waiting, waiting here to die.”

My reason encourages me to pray, but my heart remains silent, dazed by the deep voices of the spirits. I can feel their guidance, there is no hatred, I can feel their warmth, there is no fear, I can feel their motion, there is no struggle. I let the stream take me to those deep forests where the dark ancient trees grow and black crows caw, and where the wind carries the lullabies of the dead. Very soon I sink into the dark mists of the valley and pass the first marsh. The lush green contrasts the dim sky. The chill of autumn has already filled the air. Through the wicked clouds I can see sparks of stars that resemble eyes.

Is this your answer, God? Or have you already sent me to hell? Am I to live here in the land of the cursed until the end of my days? Bitter tears start rolling down my cheeks and blind my sight. Only at the threshold of the forest do I find something that shines a light on the growing void in my heart.

The majestic deer.

He is so beautiful, as though he is not a common animal, but a graceful mythical creature. His kind, wise eyes encourage me on my path. The haze of the mist finally vanishes and the humming wanes. What is left is the voice of my grandmother awaking from the coffin of buried memories.

“One experiences hell and the other experiences heaven in the Cursed Lands. You choose what you believe.”

My feet are firm yet my hands shiver as I cross the threshold. Then, only one more though enters my mind: I'm forever lost or saved at last.

Chapter 2 – Cursed Lands

The sun finds its way through the clouds and shines upon my crown. I finally calm down a bit and slow my pace. The sullen nooks of the deep forest turned out to be more hospitable than I would have thought. So far there is nothing evil about this place; on the contrary, it seems more welcoming than my home town. The spirits of the deceased warriors have disappeared and left me with no demonic impression. Perhaps grandmother was right—this place does not have to be hell. Her voice keeps speaking through my mind as I walk toward her secret shelter in the forest - the ancient cave of our ancestors.

“These lands are convoluted in realms which are invisible to our sight.

Follow my guidance and welcome the one who hides in your heart.

There are spirits in every plant, every river and every tree.

If you listen, you will hear and if you open your eyes, you will see.

Just try to keep yourself fully awake

It takes a cautious soul to find our cave.”

Now, as I pass the last marsh of the low lands, her voice becomes even clearer.

“There are both kind and ill spirits,

You attract the ones you feed.

But it's not the demons you should fear.

It's the latent darkness in our kin.

Your soul will be tested in the Cursed Lands.

But you will survive if you cling to our hands.”

Finally, I step into the deepest part of the forest and to my surprise it isn’t dark and dismal – it’s a green labyrinth of exuberant autumn vegetation. Leafy trees are my walls now, the moss is my carpet and birds are my chirpy fellows. The sun rays dance across the branches and find their way to the old stones and rocks of unknown origins that spread around and whisper the quiet mystery tales of what they have witnessed throughout their long lives. Finally, my soul has been lulled.

There is no more remorse and no more pain, just pure contentment in my newly found freedom. Nevertheless, grandmother’s warning still lies in the back of my mind, making me cautious. But it's not only her warning that I comprehend, it's far more than that. It is her and perhaps also my own awareness that starts bubbling up; the supposed boiling pot of treason.

As I amble along the trunks of ancient oaks and beeches, I find myself remembering their wisdom. It's truly amazing how one can recall information that has been not only forgotten, but also forbidden and systematically suppressed for so many years. Now, when I look at a tree or a plant, I'm suddenly aware of its power. I gaze upon the beech and I know that it speaks the language of the elderly, that its bark heals wounds and rashes, not only those on the body but also those on the soul. I see an oak and I remember that its leaves are gentle nourishment for burns and injuries, and its acorns edible miracles that allow humans to survive in the wild. I notice dandelions and I see little suns that help with thirst and hunger and fulfil daily needs and nourishment.

I look at the beautiful white branch of the birch tree and I behold that all that is ill disappears if one eases themselves beneath it. Then I spot nettle bushes and enthuse over the vision of a potent lunch, even more so if I boil it with nuts. Nuts, my favourite treat—food we share with squirrels. I also observe a few clovers and visualise the perfect bondage for injuries or scars. I pick one up and wrap it over my swollen finger. I fell on something sharp as I landed with my hands in the mud yesterday, during the horrid parade.

I feel like I'm still being guided through those woods, although my deer has disappeared. I step into a small clearing and start nibbling on blueberries that I have found under the three intertwined oaks. And then I remember that I was here before. Oh yes, we used to come here with my grandmother to pick all kinds of berries that nobody ever finds, because they are too afraid to come here.

I hope that my grandmother awaits me, still alive and healthy, because the image of me living here all alone, never being able to talk or communicate with any other human being again makes my heart ache. I shall miss my father, even with his unmerciful judgements and I'm going to miss my mother and her gentleness. I shall miss my sister too, and my dear brother who is in heaven now, if there is such a thing as heaven.

It’s starting again. I remember it rained the day before yesterday, the first time since my grandmother’s heritage awoke in me. It was when my little brother got badly injured and everybody gathered by his bed waiting for him to pass away. As I gazed upon his pain-struck face, I suddenly knew that if an elder tree does not help, then nothing else will. I snuck out into the deep night and ran across the field to where the oldest elder tree grows tall. An elder tree lady is said to possess it, she is a goddess of harvest and potency that celebrates the abundance of any natural fruition. Only those who ask and those who are kind at heart may gather her fruits and use it for their purposes. If used without permission or for ill reasons, it loses magic power, lest the intentions were erring.

I begged her to help my brother, relieve him of pain and the omen of death. I picked the luscious berries and prepared a dark red liquid. Then I poured it down his dry throat and all of a sudden my hand started involuntarily moving over his forehead, drawing symbols and shapes that I couldn’t recognise, yet still harbouring a feeling that I knew these symbols somehow.

The next morning he was dead and they found me lying next to him, my hands still red from the elder tree juice. Only now can I finally mourn his death, the state of shock that followed afterwards choked me in a trauma of unspoken words and unspoilt tears.

I allow myself to cry a whole river, but then anger spills over me. I'm angry with the elder tree lady and her deceit!

Later, I fall asleep on the moss, resting my head on the comfortable green pillow. I dream of the elder tree lady. She rises from the strong old trunk and speaks softly:

“It is not up to me, dear child,

whether someone lives or dies.

You were all granted with the greatest gift - free will.

No one can ever take it away if you don’t allow it.

We the spirits of the woods will guide you to the cave.

Be aware of the harsh man who wears a dark cape

And the woman with a big mole.

These two will soon test your soul.”

Her face is wrinkly, hair dark green, and her dress pale brown, however, it's clear that her frown is not devious, but wise.

“Speak to the moon, listen to the sun,

speak to the sun, listen to the moon.”

Once the elder tree lady pronounces the words, she closes her eyes and becomes one with her tree again.

*

This morning I caught myself striding with vigour. After all,
there is a goal ahead of me - the cave that lies in the middle of this forest. Grandmother used to secretly go there and sometimes even stayed the night. I was the only one who knew about it. I used to beg her to take me with
her, but she insisted that she would take me there only once I was ready.

I believe I’m going to find it, because I still have my guide, the deer. Whenever I go astray, he appears and assures me I'm safe. The cave I'm looking for could be considered a mysterious castle of our ancestors. My grandmother said it's protected by the circle of the elders, the women sorceresses who used to nourish and take care of others, including animals and plants of these lands. They used to pray in there, rested when they were feeling down, prayed and performed divine rituals in harmony with nature and the guiding spirits of the previous sorceresses.

Thank God I have opened my heart to my grandmother and the memories that have vivified since! It's my only salvation now.

I open my heart to God a little more as well, but I'm still concerned as to if I perceive him in the right way and if he is really a HE or there is some heavenly mother as well. My mother used to say that I should pray to Virgin Mary every night and so I did, but I always found myself wondering how it is possible that she is a virgin. Why is she a virgin? Why is it heavenly to conceive immaculately? Is there something wrong with an ordinary conception, with the ordinary nature of women? I wish I could ask my grandmother now, but nothing related to this theme is stored in my library of memories. I suppose I never asked her about that. And I don’t have to worry about it anymore anyway. I will probably remain a virgin until the end of my life, live here as a chaste maiden with no husband and no children to nourish. It’s not like there is a chance of marriage in the village. Although I turned sixteen last month, I have never really taken an interest in any boy and no boy has seemed to take an interest in me. I don’t know if it is because of my short, weak figure, unruly straw-coloured hair or deep black eyes that some find too intense, maybe it’s simply because I have always been considered a bit of an outcast. I used to play alone, or cling to animals more than to fellow children.

I remember that my father often warned me that I should not communicate with beasts because I could call their temptation upon me. I have never understood what he meant. I didn’t find sheep, goats, cows or wild cats scary. I used to fear wolves, though.
It was because the emaciated wolf packs often descended from the mountains and attacked our village. Whenever the time of the wolf attacks came upon us, we would close ourselves at home and lock all the doors.

One sullen afternoon, I witnessed a boy being attacked by one of those beasts. He was acting out a heroic scene in front of his brothers, showing off that he was not afraid to be outside during the wolf attacks, and so he ran away from home and kept running further away, giggling and fooling around. And then the pack crept into the village and the biggest male caught him in one bite. I’d witnessed creatures dying before, I’d seen my father killing farm animals a few times, but my father was skilled and quick. The animals would cry, but it lasted shorter than when that boy was eaten alive, crying out in an excruciating pain, until he gave in to the shock and fainted. After that, something changed in me, I realised that I couldn’t eat animals, just like I can’t eat a human. I couldn’t be like those wolves.

People thought it was strange, my father forced me to eat meat many times, but my mother was more understanding and advised me to hide the meat in my apron when we dined together, and later she threw it to the pigs. Even now I have decided not to hunt, unless I'm starving during winter months. I altered my upper skirt and now use it as a sack, occasionally collecting nuts, acorns and any leaf that attracts me.