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On a blustery day in winter, Matthew had left early in the morning to gather extra wood for the cold nights ahead. "Lock the door, Billy," He had said, "And don't open it for anyone." Billy had nodded innocently knowing his brother would not be too long. As Matthew left the cottage, Billy did as he was told and bolted the door tightly. The chirping of the morning birds came and went. The day became weary. Billy began to get worried as he stared into the flickering embers of the dying fire; Matthew had been gone a long time. To pass the time, he sat down and read from his father's old journal, his eyes straining in the failing light. It was filled with words he couldn't understand, but he felt, in someway, the pages brought him closer to his father. The quiet house was disturbed with a sudden knock at the door. Startled, Billy stood up and backed against the wall, his little heart pounding in it's chest. "That's not Matthew's knock." Billy whispered into the darkness. "William," Came a deep commanding voice, "William Moran, open this door now." Billy crept along the wall slowly. The door shook on it's hinges with the hammering of a heavy hand. "I know you're in there." Said the voice. Billy could feel his skin becoming clammy, "Go, Go away." He said in a small voice. "It's me, William. Open the door." "Marzurka?" Billy said, he face falling. An angry grunt sounded through the door, "Yes, you fool. Open this door."
Billy looked upon his friend in disbelief, he rustled his cap on his head, "W-What...When?" Billy fought the tears back. "Listen to me William," Marzurka looked deep into the boy's eyes, "Deep in the forest, lies a castle.." Billy nodded, "I can see it from my window." "It's a bad place, William; a dark, evil place. In that castle dwells a witch. She used to be a close companion of mine. We shared common interests and were both shunned by the village for it. I chose the high road of tolerance, she chose a recluse life and swore revenge on her hecklers." |
