the witch of blackberry hill

here's a piece of flash fiction I couldn't resist writing for Jason's wonderful contest at The Clarity of Night.


THE WITCH OF BLACKBERRY HILL

When the snow melts, they come.

Curiosity seekers searching for my house, looking for a thrill and maybe a bit of immortality. They bring cameras and equipment meant to find me, meant to capture my shadow or the whisper of my feet against the stairs. Some of them have been here before. Some have been here many times.

But they don’t know me. None of them know me.

There is no one left to tell of the rivers I swam, the sandcastles I built, or the hearts I broke. They will never know of the man I loved and the children I never had. It doesn’t bother me. I look forward to the spring when the snow melts. Occasionally I will caress a cheek or the back of a neck. The curious will turn and almost see me, the fear and life in their eyes a reminder that I was once more than this.

I can hear them now, their voices echoing through the woods.

They come.

by Anne Frasier