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I had heard many fairy tales from my mother before she passed away, many of them being so spooky that they kept me up at night. However, our lives were far more cruel than any scary story she told me about witches and ghouls. My father was an abusive drunk who beat my mother to death when I was just six years old. I was left alone to take care of both household matters and raising my two younger siblings. I wished there was a witch out there who would punish him for what he did, but it seemed that things wouldn’t come that easily.
For the next three years, he beat my siblings and me every evening once he returned from work. I bore the brunt of the beatings, pleading with him not to hurt my two younger sisters, but he was often ruthless. One day, I decided that we had suffered enough at his hands and started hiding both money and rations in my room in hopes of fleeing with my siblings. A month later, everything was in order.
I woke my siblings up in the middle of the night and guided them into the shadows. We stayed off the road but didn’t wander off into the woods. An hour passed before we stopped to rest, and I set up a small camping site for us and lit a fire to keep us warm. I then cooked Mom’s favourite meal, and we talked about her for another hour before deciding to sleep. My siblings didn’t remember her too well because they were much younger when she passed away, but talking about her did bring some smiles on their faces that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I was glad we were finally off on our own.
When the sun rose the next day, we packed our things and rushed further away towards the outskirts of the town, and it was there that we came across a woman who would’ve been as old as our mom if she were still alive. She was the only person who lived this far from everyone else. Our father often described her as a witch, which made me hesitant to approach her, but the woman was playing with her pet rabbit and cat in her garden and didn’t come across as threatening.
When she noticed us, I could see visible concern on her face. She rushed towards us and asked us what we were doing out here all alone. When I told her what we did, she took us in immediately and served us some food and tea. The woman introduced herself as Katrina and asked us to stay with her as long as we’d like. She said the outdoors were not safe for anyone, especially not children. My siblings and I accepted her invitation, but it wasn’t long before our father caught wind of our whereabouts and came looking for us one morning.
When he arrived, Katrina defended us and told him she would not let us return to a house where we’d face assault every day. Our father attempted to hit Katrina, but she quickly countered and threw him on the ground. She moved so quickly that I could barely keep up with what she did. Our father muttered under his breath and attempted to attack her again, but she grabbed his arm and threw him against the wall. Our father’s face grew dark with contempt, but he knew he had been bested. He cursed her and glared at us one last time before walking away.
When Katrina closed the door, I asked her to teach us how to defend ourselves. She smiled and made a joking remark that my sisters and I would be called witches for being as skilled as her once our training was done. I could see the excitement in my sisters’ eyes at the thought of being as strong as her.
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