The Witch of Shade Mountain
Fiction by Kevin Joseph Reigle
Ma said you ought not to spit. But it’s a habit I picked up from playing kick the can. When I’d lose, I’d get so mad, I’d spit.
After kick the can, we’d wander down to the intersection, and Ma would get so mad cause for some reason cars kept running the stop sign. No one seemed to know why until this one lady got pulled over and said it was the witch who lived on the corner that made her do it.
Now, when the lady said that, it caused a real ruckus, and everyone who ran the stop sign blamed the witch. The only problem was that of the four houses on the corner, the lady didn’t say which one the witch lived in. Other people who came forward waving their tickets in protest, didn’t take the time to accuse a specific house either. Just a no-name witch who apparently had nothing better to do than cast an evil spell, making cars run the stop sign on the corner of Market and Maple.
That’s where I live, well, sort of. In the middle of the block, I guess you could say. Ma’s awful proud of our house. She says Dad worked really hard for us to afford it. Of course, that was before he ran off with that lady who waitressed at the Early Bird Cafe. We never did hear about what happened after they left town. Ma won’t talk about. She likes to pretend Dad died. Struck down by a train. Sometimes, a hunting accident. Depends on what kind of mood she’s in.
Ma tends to be real practical like that. She don’t believe there’s a witch living on the corner. She’s like, which one would it be? It certainly ain’t no one in the Shaw house, and then across from them is Old Doc Stroud, and he ain’t no witch. His hair’s too short, and his house looks mighty dirty. I’m not even sure he even owns a broom. That leaves the two widows who live across from each other.
Both are old enough to be witches. There’s Miss Ethel Dawson, who was never married and got real mad one Christmas when she went outside to find that all her decorations had been stolen right off the front porch. Marty Hackett was responsible for that. One morning, walking to school when it was still dark out, he went up on her porch and stole everything. Who knows why? He never said.
I imagine if Miss Ethel Dawson was the witch, she would have got revenge on Marty by now, but it’s been years, and nothing but good things have happened to Marty. He’s one of the most popular kids at school; dates Connie Hopkins, the cheerleader, and now he’s gonna be the first starting freshman for the high school basketball team.
I don’t know Marty too well. He’s three years older than me, so the only time I’ve ever really talked to him was down at the IGA, where he bags groceries during the summer. You see, his uncle owns it.
The other house on the corner is where the widow Berkshire lives. Her husband used to be an important judge in these parts, Ma said, but he died a long time ago, way before I was born. She doesn’t come out of her house all that much cause she has to be pushing ninety.
When the lady who ran the stop sign blamed the witch for putting a hex on the intersection, Judge Blackburn hollered and called her story hogwash. You see, the judge drives a taxi at night because he gets bored and his wife doesn’t want him underfoot. He says driving taxi keeps drunk drivers off the road, since drunks are too embarrassed to have their wives come pick them up at the bar. I don’t know much about that, but I heard Harper’s dad talking about it over at the general store. He said the last thing a drunk wants is to get lectured by his wife.
The judge made the lady and everyone else pay their tickets. While all this was going on, Taylor walked over from Bell’s General Store, and we stood on the sidewalk trying to figure out why so many cars weren’t stopping. There weren’t no trees or nothing blocking the sign. We couldn’t figure out why so many people kept running it. It didn’t make any sense.
A few weeks after that, a car ran the stop sign and hit Marty Hackett, who was riding his bike to school for basketball practice. The car went right through the intersection and hit his back tire, sending Marty flying. They rushed him off to the hospital, and he wasn’t hurt too bad, but he did break his arm, and they say he’ll miss the whole season. The town was pretty sad because he was gonna be the first freshman to ever start for the Bobcats.
As Marty lay on the street and some of the neighbors came running to help, I noticed one neighbor who didn’t, Miss Ethel Dawson. She stood on her porch watching. The same porch that Marty had stolen those Christmas decorations from years ago. She noticed me watching her. That’s when she smiled and sat on her porch swing, seeming to right enjoy watching Marty roll around in pain in the middle of the road.
That’s when I realized we just might have ourselves a witch here in Shade Mountain.
Kevin Joseph Reigle’s fiction has appeared in The Brussels Review, Bridge Eight, Drunk Monkeys, Beyond Words, Bristol Noir, Midsummer Dream House, and several anthologies. He is a student at The New School.
Member Perks: Paid subscribers receive free submissions to all open calls for Midsummer Dream House.