The Witch [fantasy] [vanilla romantic]

*(this is not overtly sexual – I hope this is a good enough fit for this sub. I apologize in advance if this is out of place.)*

The Witch

At the edge of town where the forest begins, a small wooden cabin stands alone, cloaked in the shadows of the tall trees. The boarders of the neatly-kept property are marked with stone pillars in the corners, and an iron fence that disappears into the woods beyond the back yard. A long and narrow garden runs along the length of the fence on one side. Dark curtains are drawn behind the small arched windows most of the time, and rarely is a sound heard over the quiet whispering of the nearby stream.

Very little is known about the woman who has lived alone there for so many years, other than she appears to be in her mid-50s and seldom ventures into town. Over the years her legend has grown, fueled in part by her reclusive nature. In the absence of knowledge, the imaginations of the townspeople have filled in the gaps in her story. For many years, rumors about her and her cabin have been traded in hushed tones. And while some claims are easy to dismiss, the ongoing reports of mysterious occurrences suggest there is more than paranoia at work. A strange glow has been seen dancing on the bottoms of the clouds above her cabin. Some have heard voices in the forest that seem to come from all directions. Others have heard sorrowful singing, echoing through the trees. And years ago, when visitors to our town went missing, it was thought they left by the northern trail, and would have passed by her home. Most have abandoned the trail long ago, fearing a similar fate.

When I first arrived in town I discovered the trail while exploring. Years of infrequent use have left it overgrown, and its existence is not immediately apparent. Something pulled me towards its entrance that first day, and I have felt drawn there ever since. I feel it most after the sun has gone down. In the night the jagged silhouettes of evergreens claw at the sky, marking the entrance to the forest, where total darkness begins. The air is noticeably cooler there, thick with humidity, and alive with the subtle and ever-present hissing of the stream. My evening walks often led me through the forest, and past her imposing iron fence and the dark outline of her home. As much as I am drawn to this place, I am always careful to keep a constant pace as I pass by.

After I began working at the local tavern, I included the trail through the woods as part of my daily commute. It was a considerable detour but I enjoyed the time to be alone with my thoughts, and to take in the natural world. In the daylight the trail is more inviting, twisting between the rolling hillside, and through puddles of sunlight and flickering shade. Even on dreary days I found comfort in the familiarity of it – stepping over roots, moving through the tall grass, and ducking under low hanging branches. But as much as I came to love my walks through the forest, part of my motivation was a secret hope that I might meet her one day. Like most, I had only caught brief glimpses of her around town, as she moved with a graceful and deliberate stride between the shops, smiling at the people she would meet. She is always polite and soft spoken, but her undeniable presence commands respect, and often fear. On more than one occasion I had the chance to introduce myself, but nerves got the better of me. I started to lose hope that we would ever meet.

Then one morning in the late summer, I passed by her home on the way to the tavern and found her working in her garden. As I approached she set down her basket and strolled towards the side of the fence nearest to the road. Her raven-black hair, streaked with grey, shone in the sunlight as she removed and replaced her hat. She looked through the iron bars with a curious and friendly expression as we greeted each other. Her beautiful smile is immediately disarming, and brings out the fine lines around her soulful blue eyes. For a while we talked about the weather and her meticulously groomed garden with its many labeled sections. She laughed with kind-hearted amusement as it became apparent that I was in awe of her, hanging on her every word. “You should be more cautious about venturing into the forest at night, my dear” she said with a tone of friendly concern, and a raise of an elegant eyebrow. Caught off guard at the realization that she was aware of my travels, I nodded in agreement and with some embarrassment. “It’s okay, I am happy you are here, I just want you to be safe” she added, seeming to know my thoughts. As we said our goodbyes she reached between the bars and for a moment I held her slender fingers in my hand, and kissed the top of her glove. “I suppose I shall allow you to leave, this time” she said with a devilish smile.

After our first meeting I would take every opportunity to say hello to her, and talk with her. Some evenings she would stop in at the tavern for dinner, and I would eagerly greet her and show her to her table. “She likes to be left alone” the head bar tender once nervously cautioned me. On a number of occasions I was warned that my beautiful friend may not be as harmless as her charming and gentle demeanor would imply. Amidst the growing concerns I continued our conversations, which I lived for. She seemed amused by my enthusiasm to talk with her, while most people tended to avoid her. Was it my bravery she found endearing, or my foolishness, I wondered. While she is intimidating, there is also a kindness in her eyes that hints at a heart of gold, I thought. Contrary to the stories, I do not sense in her any evil, though when I am with her I feel I am near an entity of great power. If I am honest I must admit I enjoy the vaguely dangerous feeling of standing in her presence, as a powerless mortal. As time went on we grew closer, though I was hesitant to express my feelings for her, however obvious they became. I thought about her constantly. How did she pass her time alone in her cabin? Did she feel loneliness? One thing I knew for certain was that I could wait no longer. Soon I would meet my fate.

The sun was setting on a cold and windy fall evening as I started down the trail. In the failing daylight the bare trees cast long shadows along the cold ground. There was a chill in the air, and the smell of leaves returning to the earth. Dark clouds rolled in and the temperature continued to drop as I moved onward, consumed in thought. I barely noticed the occasional drops of rain on my face. This night, I had decided I would confess to her my heart’s desires – to be something more to her, in whatever capacity she would allow. Fear began to set in as I contemplated the possible outcomes of our eventual meeting. But there was no turning back. Resolved to plead my case, I moved onward down the trail as a starless night descended upon the land.

Wind chimes played softly in the distance as I approached her home. A warm glow spilled from the windows and ran along the ground, and up in the trees revealing twisted branches. Smoke curled and churned from the chimney, taken by the wind into the night’s sky. I stood before the dark Iron Gate and listened to the hissing of the stream as I considered how to best make my presence known. For a while I was motionless, entranced by the rushing and burbling, when I was startled by a faint voice that seemed to rise out of the noise. “Welcome” it whispered slowly, and then dissolved back into the cold water. A gust of wind nudged the gate, and it swung open slowly, and silently. Finally gathering the courage to step forward, I turned to close the gate behind me and it groaned and latched with a clank. As I turned to face forward I found a silhouette in one of the windows, motioning me toward the front door. For a moment her gleaming smile flashed in the night, before she disappeared from the window. I looked up through the archway above her garden to see moonlight escaping through thin spots in the fast moving clouds.

Conscious of my footsteps on the stone walkway, I continued past the garden and the tall dense hedges that obscure the front door. Among the shadows of their tangled branches sat a small, weathered statue of an angle. There was a look of sympathy in her frozen, far-away stare, I thought. Perhaps it was sympathy for all those who have found themselves where I now stood. As I walked up the steps leading to her heavy wooden door, I held the flowers I brought for her close to my chest, as the wind threatened to pull them from me. I carefully set down my back pack, containing some of her favorite dishes from the tavern. My mind raced as I awaited her arrival, wondering what would become of me.

For perhaps my entire life, I have loved her. Even before we had met, I felt her presence out there in the world, waiting for me. No longer would I have to wonder what might be. I hoped that I would be spared, and given a chance to show my love for her. If kept as a servant, I would serve her with my whole being. If I was lucky enough to be a companion or partner, I would be my very best for her. And if all she wants of me is only my life force, I offer my remaining heartbeats willingly – they have always been hers. I belong to her, heart and soul.

At last the massive door opened slowly into a darkly-lit room. With a smile and silent gesture she motioned me to enter. And as the door closed tightly behind me I was finally at peace, for even if this was the end of my life, at least it was the end of my life without her.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/6e4ama/the_witch_fantasy_vanilla_romantic

One comment on “The Witch [fantasy] [vanilla romantic]

  1. Wow, I loved this. You’re a great writer, both with description and getting me emotionally invested with the protagonist. I enjoyed the ambiguity with the end, where you can assume the guy is simply the Witch’s next slave/sacrifice, or going to become her lover as his fantasies suggest.

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