The Witch of the Whispering Woods

The Witch of the Whispering Woods: Chapter 1

"He was supposed to be feeding the chickens", he said as his wooden rocker creaked slowly back and forth on the porch of his modest yellow house, the smell of his pipe filling the air.

"But Declan was very rebellious, even for a ten year old boy. He would always avoid his duties to explore the whispering woods," he paused and inhaled deeply as he patted the head of his strange dog. Mr. Taylor's light brown hair fluttered in the cool spring breeze. Soft blue eyes looked down at me in sorrow; his strong features marked with heartache.

"Declan would always say 'father the whispering woods are far more exciting than chickens." The wind picked up and you could smell the chickens that were housed in the coups at the far end of his property.

Many stories just like his were told in town. Everyone knew someone who went missing while exploring the whispering woods. Even in other villages around there were stories. They fascinated me.

What could possibly be in the woods that made people go into it if it was so dangerous? I thought as I sat on the rough wooden steps of the porch, next to Mr. Taylor's strange dog.

"We looked night and day, for many months, but not a trace of him was ever found," Mr. Taylor continued, his eyes looking distant as though he could see the memory right in front of him.

"His mother was so distraught that she up and left. One morning I woke up and she was gone. She could not stand the memories in this old place I guess. Me, I would not leave until I found out what happened to my little boy. But it doesn't look like I will get my chance now," Mr. Taylor sighed regret filling his voice as he said this.

He sat up, back straight, and looked right into my large hazel ten year old eyes. "It has been three years of waiting and searching," Mr. Taylor said patting his dog. "But I am not doing so well, the doctor says I have maybe a few weeks left in me, maybe even a month but not much more than that," he breathed out heavily, coughing hard from the tobacco smoke.

I knew what was coming next. I had been helping Mr. Taylor collect his eggs for two years. In all that time Mr. Taylor always told me that I was to take Wolfie, the strange dog of his, if he was ever to die.

"Wolfie's always taken a shine to you," Mr. Taylor told me with a faint smile showing the many lines and wrinkles of his gentle face. "He would be a good guard dog, and a loyal friend. He must be old. I have had him for almost three years now myself. When I found him, Wolfie was already full grown. Have I ever told you of how I found him?" Mr. Taylor asked ardent on telling another story.

He had many time, but I was too sad to say so. Mr. Taylor was my friend, and I hated that he might not be around anymore. "No Mr. Taylor," I feigned as I ran my fingers through Wolfie's long, soft, dark brown fur.

"It was while I was in the whispering woods looking for Declan," he began. "I walked a far distance into the woods when I saw him, drinking water from a puddle made from the rain we had the night before. He looked half-starved and entirely filthy. I could smell his stench from where I stood quite a ways away," while he spoke Wolfie licked Mr. Taylor's ruff and callused hands.

"But he never growled, didn't even bark, just trotted on over to me, and put his mussel in my hand. Since then we have been inseparable," Mr. Taylor ran his hand over Wolfie's back. "I do not know what kind of dog he is. He looks to me to be more wolf than dog. Though the coloring is wrong for a wolf, his fur is too long and he never seems to grow a winter coat, or shed," he gently pulled Wolfie's face towards himself and looked him in the eyes.

"I believe wolves can stand the cold winters, but Wolfie here seems to get cold quiet easily even with his large fur coat. He also does not eat like a wolf. He really likes porridge with honey on it, and potatoes," Mr. Taylor smiled. "Plus he has those large green eyes. I don't think I have ever seen any animals with eyes like that," he said still looking into Wolfie's face. "So I named him Wolfie. He seems to like it," Wolfie barked once then licked Mr. Taylor's lightly bearded face.

"I never gave much thought to all the tall tales folks told about these woods, not until Declan disappeared," Mr. Taylor looked longingly towards the woods. "Don't go in the whispering woods little Carwyn, you might not come out again," his eyes were looking through me as he thought of his son.

"The woods are a strange mysterious place. I lived here my whole life and not once have I ever seen leaves grow on the trees; it's like one big dead forest that no one bothered to cut down. I never saw animals go in or come out, except Wolfie here. Everyone and everything seems to avoid the woods," Mr. Taylor told me.

"The witch of the whispering woods is said to live there. She likes to take young things like you," Mr. Taylor nodded towards me. "Nobody knows what happens to them after that. Some say she cooks them up; others that she just simply makes them disappear. Be careful little Carwyn do not go into the whispering woods." He always said this as it was time for me to leave.