Original Fiction: "New Witch in Town" by Robert Allen Lupton

Editor's Introduction: After first publishing a time travel story, followed by a futuristic story, this week we expand the variety of our offerings with what is best described as humorous horror story. It's an entertaining tale of what happens when there is, as the title says, "A New Witch in Town>.

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I sat in the front row of Mrs. McAlister’s fourth grade class. The shiny apple on her desk slowly rotted into slurry. I glanced around. Janet Oberon, the suck-up who brought the apple, watched her gift decay. She gasped when the first worm poked its head through the browning red skin.

The apple was bright and new a few moments ago. I heard a soft snicker. The new girl, Mabel, spun her index finger in a small circle and mumbled under her breath. She caught me looking at her and winked. Janet shrieked when the apple’s skin ruptured. Maggots and worms floated in putrid applesauce across the desk and dripped onto the floor.

It was great. Best day ever. Mrs. McAlister puked in the trash can. She sent Janet to the principal’s office for bringing a rotten apple to class. I told my friends, Mark and Sammy, at lunch. They’re in Mrs. Johnson’s fourth grade class.

I said, “It was Mable. She wiggled her finger and cast a spell on the apple.”

“Ronnie, you’re a moron. It’s close to Halloween and you been watching way too many Harry Potter reruns. You think the new girl’s a witch? Oooohhhhh.”

I shoved Mark. “I saw what I saw. I’m gonna talk to her.”

Sammy complained, “Not this week. Halloween’s Friday. This is the last year we can trick or treat. We gotta make plans. Gotta payback Buddy Oberon and his friends.”

Sammy had a point. Buddy and his two asshole buddies, Preston and Rich, were the town bullies. They were juniors in high school. They’d picked on us for years and stole our candy the last three Halloweens. Bastards.

“I know, but I’m still going to talk to Mabel.”

“Go get her, lady-killer. When you’re on the ground with a bloody nose and no Halloween candy, remember I told you so.”

Mabel sat reading on the steps of the portable building we used for a classroom. I walked up and said, “You’re new. I’m Ronnie. I know what you did to the apple.”

“I don’t know shit about no apple.”

“Yes, you do. You wiggled your finger and said an enchantment or something.”

“You mean like a spell. You think I’m a witch. How old are you? You’re ten, maybe eleven, and you still believe in witches. Imagine that. Hang around a couple of months and Santa Clause will bring you some presents. I think I saw the Easter Bunny run under the building.”

“Hey, I don’t mean anything. I saw what I saw. I thought you might want a friend.”

“Maybe, I do, Ronnie. Maybe, I do.” She twitched her nose like the witch lady on television and I almost fell over myself backing away.

“Oh, Ronnie, don’t make it so easy. Introduce me to your friends.” She closed her book, stood up, and we went to find Sammy and Mark. The bell rang right as I introduced them and we walked to class.

Sammy said, “We’re going to work on our Halloween costumes at my house after school. You can come if you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll check with my mom.”

Red-eyed Janet was back in class. She broke her pencil three times, her pen leaked all over her dress, and a fly landed on her face several times. Whenever I glanced at Mabel, she just smiled and winked.

Her mother consented and Mabel walked with me to Sammy’s house. Mabel and I passed the signboard at the High School. It advertised the Halloween Ball this Friday night. I asked, “What’s the deal with Janet?”

“Janet lives down the block from us. She’s been really mean to me. Told the other girls not to play with me. She walks her stupid little dog and lets him poop in my yard.”

“So I’m right and you made the apple rot. You are a witch.”

Mabel looked around and said, “Not smart to piss off a witch. Ask Janet. I’m not a witch, not yet anyway. I’m more of a witch in training. If you tell anyone, my mama will turn you into a toad.”

“Can she do that?”

“You wanna take a chance.”

“No, what’s a witch in training? Can I learn?”

“If you don’t have the blood, you can study all you want, but your spells won’t work. Until I’m a woman, my spells only work on inanimate objects and insects. Last week, I learned to control flies.”

“Become a woman. You mean like sex?

“Don’t be gross. No, I mean when I mature enough that I’m not a child anymore.”

“Oh, you mean when you have a period.”

“I’m so not having this conversation.”

I knocked at Sammy’s and we went to his dad’s basement workshop. Our work was laid out on the workbench. Mabel looked at the tattered and torn clothing. She picked up strips of cloth stained with red paint. “Zombies, you guys are going as zombies.”

Mark answered, “Yes. Gloves and old shoes and makeup, lots of makeup. Makeup doesn’t restrict your vision. We want to see everything. The big kids in this town will kick your ass and steal your candy if you aren’t careful. That asshole, Buddy Oberon, is the worst. He blacked Sammy’s eye last year. We’re going to get him back. I’m thinking we’ll put mousetraps in our candy sacks.”

Sammy said, “That’s stupid. It won’t kill him and he’ll know who did it. We gotta think of something better than that shit.”

I had an idea I’d been saving. When Sammy said, “Shit,” it appeared in my mind as clear as a vision of Christ himself, dressed in a gold sequined jumpsuit surfing down from the clouds on a sunbeam and singing Onward Christian Soldiers.” I had the perfect plan.

“I got it. Laxatives. Laxatives and stool softeners. We’ll fill the candy with laxatives and reseal the packaging with superglue. When Buddy and his pals eat the candy, they’ll spend a week on the crapper.”

Mark laughed, “What a shitty plan. I love it.”

We worked on our costumes until dark. We made a fourth zombie outfit for Mabel. She was a wiz at makeup.

School was slow the next day. During the afternoon, a fly kept buzzing my ear. I gave Mabel a dirty look. She giggled and gestured for the fly to leave me alone. She guided it under Janet’s dress. Janet shrieked and jumped on top of her desk. Mrs. McAlister sent her to the office. Another good day.

Buddy stopped his car in the street next to us that afternoon. “You little shits better be fast this Halloween. I got a date for the Halloween Ball and I don’t have time to wait all night for you to fill your sacks. You could just bring the candy to the school parking lot. That might save you an ass-whipping, but I doubt it. Don’t hold out on me. See you Friday.”

Mabel and I bought plenty of candy. No one thinks twice about selling candy to kids. Mark and Sammy didn’t do so well. People ask questions when a couple of ten year old boys want to buy twenty packages of chocolate-flavored laxative.

The pharmacist said, “You boys know this isn’t candy. You don’t want to eat this stuff.”

Mark shook his head. “I told him my brother was in Africa and you can’t buy good laxatives in Africa. He told me to bring a note from my mother.”

“So you didn’t get any?”

Mark pulled two boxes out of his pocket. “I stole these, but I don’t think it’s enough.”

He unwrapped one of the packages and the chocolate had melted into sludge. He threw it in the trash. I said, “Well, my plan went to shit. Anybody else got anything?”

Mabel asked, “Buddy is Janet Oberon’s big brother, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Then I’ll help. I know a spell my mother uses to help people who can’t poop. I can put the spell on the candy and people who eat it will crap like they drank a bottle of castor oil.”

Mark and Sammy looked at me. “Yes, she’s really a witch. Actually, she’s a witch in training, but if she says she can do this, she can.”

Mark said, “Prove it.”

Mabel picked up a chocolate peanut cluster and smiled. “Okay eat this. Maybe, you’ll be able to get off the toilet by Halloween. I dare you.”

“Okay, if it doesn’t work, we’re no worse than we are now.”

Mabel said, “I’ll memorize the spell tonight and put it on the candy right before we start to trick or treat.”

I walked Mabel home. We held hands.

On Halloween night, we added long coats to our costumes so people would think we only had one candy sack, but we each carried one for real candy and another for Buddy and his boys. Mabel finished our makeup and piled all the candy on the work bench. She inscribed a chalk circle and pentagram around the candy. She lit red candles and placed them at the pentagram’s points. She chanted for a few minutes and then pulled a sharp knife out of her pocket and pricked her finger. She squeezed a drop of blood into each candle’s flames. The flames belched green smoke that smelled like an outhouse. Suddenly a breeze blew away the smoke. That wasn’t good. There’s no wind in a basement.

Mabel smiled and washed her hands. “Don’t confuse which sack is which. It’s almost dark. We going trick or treating or what?”

I shoveled the candy into four sacks and joined the other kids. It was a good night. Folks loved our costumes. We had quite a haul by nine o’clock. We hadn’t seen Buddy. Mark suggest we hide our good candy and walk around until Buddy found us. We hid our bounty under the broken down car in Mr. Wilson’s driveway.

It felt strange to walk around and wait for Buddy. I felt feathery touches on my neck and face. Shadows flitted just out of my vision. I slapped phantom fingers away from my face. Mark complained, ‘Is it raining? Something keeps touching me.”

Mabel said, “It’s my fault. The spirits know I’m here. They know I cast a spell because they can smell it on me. The barriers between the spirit world and ours are weaker on Halloween. They won’t hurt us, but they want to be near the action.”

Sammy shivered and touched his neck. “You sure they won’t hurt us?”

‘Pretty sure, but it is Halloween, after all.”

We had to jump out of the way when Buddy’s car screamed to a stop. “Happy Halloween, you little shits. Trick or treat.”

Preston and Rich jumped out the car and the three of them circled around us. They were dressed in slacks and sport coats. Preston said, “It’s your lucky night. We don’t want to mess up our clothes before we go to the Halloween Ball. Just put your candy sacks on the ground and back away.”

Mark threw his sack on the street and ran. He stopped and yelled, “Kiss my ass.”

Buddy said, “Little boy, that blows your free pass. I’ll find you tomorrow.”

I put my sack on the ground and so did Mabel. Sammy put his sack with ours. We moved away. Preston reached into a sack and pulled out a chocolate bar, ripped off the cover, and ate it. He tossed a bar to Buddy.

Buddy ate it and said, “Stolen candy tastes the best. Don’t stay out too late.”

They jumped in the car and drove toward the high school. I said, “We’re gonna follow them. I got to see this.”

Mabel asked me. “They won’t let us in the gym. Only kids in high school can go to the dance.”

Sammy smiled. “We’ve been sneaking into the gym to shoot hoops for years. We’ll hide in the rafters and watch. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“You mean because I’m a girl. You want me to turn you into a toad or just give you pimples? Your call.”

The four of us climbed through a window in the janitor’s closet. We taped the door latch so it wouldn’t lock behind us and climbed into the rafters. There’s a catwalk between the lights and cranks that raise and lower the basketball backboards. The backboards were raised high against the catwalk. We hid where we could peak over the backboards and people couldn’t see us from below.

Buddy, Rich, and Preston came in with their dates. They dumped all the stolen candy into a bowl where the punch and other snacks were on display. Buddy’s date ate a piece of chocolate.

“Holly shit. Everyone down there is going to eat the candy. There’ll be more poop on the floor than in a pigsty. Mabel, you’ve got to cancel the spell.”

“I don’t know how, but even if I did, I’d need to draw a pentagram. I left the red candles in Mark’s basement. Maybe my spell won’t work.”

Preston poured a bottle of pure grain alcohol in the punch. The high school kids danced, drank punch, and ate candy. Everyone ate candy and they seemed just fine. Maybe the spell didn’t work.

It worked. Buddy was first. The cramps hit him in the middle of a slow dance. He ran for the men’s room. Rich didn’t make it off the floor. He bent over and poop ran down his legs. We could smell it in the rafters. Rich’s date looked shocked and angry, but her anger vanished when the cramps hit her. I hope her parents didn’t spend a lot on her dress.

Preston threw up and then ran for the bathroom. He slipped on his own vomit and liquefied shit stained his trousers. The carnage escalated.

“We gotta get out of here,” whispered Sammy. Mark backed carefully down the catwalk, but the smell was too much for him. He gagged, held his hands over his mouth, and vomited on the crowd.

No one came after us. They were busy with their own problems. Mabel said, “I’ll try to stop this.” She waved her hands and began to chant. Spirits slowly congealed around her. They changed from misty apparitions to cold, half-solidified, gelatin forms floating through the rafters. They kept touching me and bestowed slimy caresses as they drifted around us.

Mabel said, “They’re spirits. They won’t hurt us. When I tried to cancel my spell, I accidently summoned them. They aren’t demons, they’re the spirits of my ancestors. I’ll ask them to help us.”

Sammy continued to crawl toward the ladder at the end of the catwalk. “I just want to go home.”

The spirits continued to solidify. They looked like us. By us, I mean zombies. Their clothes were tattered and torn and their faces and hands looked like they had leprosy. One opened its mouth and I could see the ceiling lights through the holes in its head.

It hugged me. I froze and whispered, “Mabel, make it leave me alone. Can you make it leave me alone?”

She nodded and with a gesture summoned the spirit to her. “These three are my friends. Leave them be.”

The creature extended its rotting hand. The hand dissolved into mist, drifted forward, and engulfed Mabel’s face. She inhaled the evil smoke and her eyes rolled back. Her body quaked with a small seizure. Her eyes opened, she breathed out the smoke, and it reformed into a ghostly hand. Mabel said, “This spirit is my grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother from a very long time ago. People hung her in a town called Salem. The spirits will stop the shitstorm. The people will stop vomiting and pooping. She says they won’t clean up the mess. I don’t blame her. The spirits require payment.”

Mark reached in his pocket. “I’ve got eleven dollars.”

“They don’t want money. They want a servant. Someone has to go with them. It should be me. It’s my fault we need their help.”

I said, “Piss on that. If they want someone, give ‘em Buddy. This is his fault.”

I waved my arms and the spirits surrounded me. One reached for me, I slapped its slimy hand away, and pointed at Buddy. “Not me. Take him.”

The spirits looked at Buddy and the reincarnated witches with rotting faces didn’t just look happy, they seemed absolutely gleeful. They turned to Mabel for reassurance and she said, “Take him.”

The spirits dove from the rafters and reverted to the consistency and stench of greasy smoke. The filthy wraiths flew above the floor. They didn’t slow down when they came to the wretched partygoers; they flew right through them. The victims shivered at the brief moment of ghostly contact and passed out.

In moments, Buddy was the only one awake. He wiped his face and backed away from the zombie ghost witches solidifying around him. He slid down the wall. He tried to stand, but he was too weak and the floor was slippery.

Mabel’s ancestor seemed to be in charge. The old woman zombie ghost witch shoved her hand into Buddy’s mouth and her arm spun like small whirlwind. It vacuumed Buddy inside out. He deflated like a balloon. He disappeared feet first. His feet and legs vanished into his body. His hands and arms went next. It was gross and fascinating at the same time.

His head went last. The flesh flowed from his bones and the skull melted. His brain splashed on the slop-covered floor.

The witches faded into the mist and vanished. The other partygoers began to wake up. Some of them vomited again, but Mabel said that was because of the stench, not because of her enchantment.

We inched our way to the ladder. Mabel and I took one last look at the muck and mire splattered dance floor, the sewage stained dresses, and the lakes of human manure scattered across the hardwood floor. Buddy’s brain grew smaller and smaller. It dissolved and mixed with the excrement and vomit. The sludge looked the same and I couldn’t tell where the crap ended and Buddy’s brains started.

Mabel said, “We have to go. Are you okay?”

I pointed at the last vestige of dissolving cerebellum. “I’m better than okay. Look. I always knew that Buddy had shit for brains.”

-The End-

About the Author: Robert Allen Lupton is retired and lives in New Mexico where he is a commercial hot air balloon pilot. Robert runs and writes every day, but not necessarily in that order. More than seventy of his short stories have been published in several anthologies including “Chicken Soup For the Soul – Running For Good”, and online at www.horrortree.com, www.crimsonstreets.com, www.aurorawolf.com, www.stupefyingstories.blogspot.com, www.fairytalemagazine.com, and www.allegoryezine.com.

Over 300 drabbles based on the worlds of Edgar Rice Burroughs and several articles are available online at www.erbzine.com. His novel, Foxborn, was published in April 2017 and the sequel, Dragonborn, in June 2018. His collection of running themed horror, science fiction, and adventure stories, Running Into Trouble, was published in October 2017.

His annotated edition of John Monro’s 1897 novel, A Trip To Venus, was released in September 2018. His stories have received five honorable mention awards from “Writers of the Future.”