The Witches of Barrow Wood

Just a scratch beneath the surface,
there is an evil that lies within
all of us. Keep it locked up.

At the age of four, a little boy awoke
after a nightmare, in which three
witches were stirring him
up in a cauldron. It was then that
The Witches of Barrow Wood
was born.

A horror by Kenneth Balfour.

My first and last.

Chapter One – There’s no place like home

Chapter Two – Into the wood

Chapter Three – Reminisce

Chapter Four – Harry

Chapter Five – Encounter

Chapter Six – Punishment

Chapter Seven – Clarity

Chapter Eight – The Huntsman

Chapter Nine – Leave

Chapter Ten – Heads

Chapter Eleven – Janice

Chapter Twelve – The Barlows

Chapter Thirteen – The Police

Chapter Fourteen – Battle

Chapter Fifteen – The Next Mourning

Chapter Sixteen – Witch Hunt

Chapter Seventeen – Eleven Years Later

Chapter Eighteen – Cross

Chapter Nineteen – Cauldron

Copyright

It was a cold, dark night, and the wind howled through the trees of Barrow Wood. The woodland was dense with trees and as the wind blew, whispers could be heard. The villagers believed an evil lurked within the wood, as stories had been passed from generation to generation for hundreds of years. Some told of a witch, crooked and old, and plagued with ugliness and eternal life. And some spoke of ghosts of the bodies buried within the barrows – the prehistoric burial mounds.

Barrow was the name given to the small village that hosted just shy of one hundred people. The first settlers discovered the barrows within the wood a thousand years ago, and no one knows of the occupants – no one human, anyway. Old journals say that some of the mounds were excavated, and all those that looked upon the deformed bones died in a matter of hours, choking on their own vomit.

Few dared to go into the woodland, and those that were brave enough to venture in and ignore the stories came out unharmed, although the story was always the same: whispers could be heard and a feeling of being watched was ever-present. On occasion, the villagers would walk their dogs near the outskirts of the wood, but their pets would run loose into the woodland and some were never seen again.

***

Sam Barton awoke early one Saturday during his summer holidays, and ran downstairs to get a bowl of his very favourite cereal. He was only seven years old, and it was quite a stretch to reach up into the cupboard. He managed it nonetheless. He filled his bowl to the brim with his sugar puffs and then went to the fridge for his milk. As he started to pour the milk, he lost his grip, and the glass bottle smashed to the floor. Sam looked up in fear. His mother had gone out to the shops and his father was an angry man.

John shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you done, boy?”

“I… I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to – it slipped!” said Sam, cowering to the ground and trying to clean the spill with a tea towel.

“I'll give you sorry, lad!”

John grabbed Sam by the hair, lifting him from the ground, and then carried him to his bedroom. He threw his son to the ground and prepared to strike the boy. Sam cowered in the corner and closed his eyes and started crying. John struck his son with all of his might, grinding his teeth and preparing for another blow. Again and again, he hit his boy, until little Sam could barely breathe.

“You tell your mother and you'll get it again. Stay in your room, boy!” said John, grinning, and then making his way back downstairs.

Sam crawled up into his covers and sobbed. He daren't tell his mother, as it would break her heart, and so far as he knew it was only him that his father hit. Sam wondered what to do. He dreamed of running away, but feared that would only hurt his mum. He figured that maybe he would venture into Barrow Wood, and maybe then he would be missed.

Clare arrived home with her bags of shopping and wasn't surprised to see her husband sitting watching television with a can of lager. She shook her head in utter disbelief that someone would want to be drinking alcohol so early in the day. She smiled at John and walked to the kitchen to unpack her shopping.

Unbeknownst to her little boy, Clare had been struck by John countless times over their ten-year marriage, but she loved him regardless and had learned to live with it. She loved her little boy more than life itself, and could not leave John even if she wanted to, because she believed that Sam needed his father, and needed a stable family life.

Little Sam curled up in his bed covers with one of his favourite toy cars – a little yellow Suzuki. He thought about his parents, whom he loved with all of his heart and soul, but his heart broke a little every time his father hit him. He thought that he must be a very naughty boy to upset his father so often, and figured maybe getting lost in the wood would be a good thing. Sam sat there for hours thinking, and then finally decided that running into the wood might get him another beating, but maybe, just maybe, his father would miss him and welcome him back with open arms. That was it, he had made up his mind, and he was going to run away – at least for a few hours, anyway.

John sat in the front room watching his programmes, drinking can after can of lager, and every so often, went in to the kitchen to get a pie or two. He thought of his son, and felt bad that he had hit him, but then shrugged it off, convincing himself that Sam had deserved it. When John had finished his pies, he looked down at his stomach and figured that maybe middle-aged spread was starting to take its toll. He smiled to himself and decided that he was comfortable, as he still had his short dark hair and he had a family – he had no one that he had to impress.

Clare got busy cleaning the two-bedroom detached cottage. It had oak beams and stone flooring and a thatched roof. It truly was a beautiful home, but it was prone to damp and it kept Clare very busy keeping the place tidy. She and John both had two weeks off work during Sam's summer holidays, so Clare was planning a whole fortnight of DIY.

Sam waited until late afternoon and then he sneaked downstairs whilst his father was taking a nap in the living room. His mother was busy painting the downstairs loo, and so he grabbed some packets of crisps from the kitchen and then left the cottage, closing the front door very quietly behind him.

Sam started to walk the hill towards the woodland whilst munching on his crisps. The day was warm, and little Sam breathed in deeply, intoxicated by the fresh air. He was starting to feel a little nervous, not so much because of the woodland and the stories of old, but more worried as to his mother and father’s reaction to his mysterious disappearance. He finished off his crisps and stopped at the entrance to Barrow Wood. He turned to look back at his home and could make it out clearly in the distance. He sighed, and then took his first step into the wood for the very first time.

The woodland was dense with trees, and it had an unnerving feel about it. Sam noticed a little muddy pathway and started to walk along it. The hairs on his neck stood on end and he started to feel like he was being watched. He closed his eyes and imagined he was his favourite superhero, and when he opened his eyes, he felt brave, and so he continued to march up the muddy walkway. He walked for a long while, thinking about his mum and dad, and completely lost track of time. The route led this way and that, and before little Sam knew it, he was lost, and the sun was starting to go down.

He started to panic and shouted aloud. His voice echoed through the woodland. He turned around looking in all directions, looking for a way out, but it was no use – he was lost. He started to cry, wishing that he had never left home. At that moment, he noticed a rather large mound. He decided to have a sit down to catch his breath and then try to remember his way back.

He sat for several minutes, racking his brains, and then noticed it getting a little darker. He shouted out loud again, but there was no reply. He decided he was going get up and try to find his way, and at that moment, when he tried to heave himself up, he noticed he had his hand on a smooth, rounded object. He dug into the mound to find out what it was. He gasped, and he felt as cold as stone. He had noticed two eye sockets. It was a human skull.

Sam became frantic with fear and started to cry uncontrollably. All of a sudden, he felt sick in the pit of his stomach, and then he had a foul taste in his mouth and he started to convulse. His stomach contents poured from his lips and he started to turn pale. And then something darted past him. He panicked, screaming for his mother, and then collapsed.

It was approaching evening when Clare decided to go and check on Sam. She had hardly noticed him, and it was unlike him to be so quiet. If nothing else, he would have been down to the kitchen to fetch supplies for the adventures that he created in his bedroom with his toys. She knocked on his door and entered, and was shocked to find the room empty. She darted down the stairs into the living room and woke John from his slumber.

“John, John, have you seen Sam? He’s not in his room,” said Clare, sounding a little panicked.

John started to stir. “Sam? I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

“Well, he’s not here!” said Clare, running out of the door to look outside.

Clare literally sprinted around the cottage shouting Sam’s name, but he was not there. John followed shortly behind, tucking himself in as he went.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon, don’t worry!” said John, confident that Sam would be back shortly.

“I’m calling Harry’s mother!” said Clare.

Clare went inside the cottage and phoned Harry’s mother. Harry was Sam’s closest friend, and they always sat together at school and were always getting up to mischief together. The phone rang for a while and then Belinda answered. Clare explained that her son had gone missing and was hoping that he was out playing with Harry. Belinda said that she hadn’t seen Sam all day. Clare thanked her and put down the phone, and then immediately called the police, who said that they would be there within the hour. Clare paced the cottage, wishing she had spent more time with her boy, and then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

John went over and put his arm around Clare’s slim waistline, and then he leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. Clare was taken by surprise by his kind affection and leaned into him, taking comfort. She pulled back her long brown hair from her face and sighed. Her energy was running low, and she wanted so much to see her little boy again.

***

Eldrin was an age-old witch – she had been around since the fifth century. Her evil twin sisters concocted a very powerful spell that was known to only a few and long since forgotten. It was a spell to give all three sisters a very long life, but they got more than they bargained for – they became immortal and cursed with ugliness, sentenced to an eternity of self-loathing and despair. The evil twins wreaked havoc when they were mortal, abusing their inherent gifts of witchcraft, murdering without pity and living by the code ‘Take what thou shalt want’. A life of ugliness, self-loathing and despair made the slaughter of all living things all the more appealing to the two twins. Eldrin suffered the curse, too – although she was kind, a trait that her ugliness hid well.

After hundreds of years of slaughter, Eldrin could bear it no longer. She sought to put an end to her evil sisters, but the only way to kill an immortal is to behead them. One night, when the evil twins slept, Eldrin hacked off their heads with a sharpened axe. They were now buried close to where Eldrin lived and their heads were buried there also, but the heads were locked by chain and key in an unbreakable metal box. If the heads were ever reunited with the bodies, they would once again live, and they would go on a killing spree so terrible that no one would live to tell the tale. It had been five hundred years since Eldrin had decapitated her sisters, and it had haunted her every day since, but there was one thing she knew for sure – her sisters could not be allowed to live, ever again.