Leaves of Wish

There was a time in a village unnamed when a witch came 'round each and every year on the eve of a dying summer and would appear with word of a new yearly curse. Given no exact date each year as far as could be told, the townspeople panicked as the summer winded down, and the town's farmers worried year after year over their harvest, for the witch possessed the power to ruin all the fields in their crops, or so was said.

In years previous, the witch had come and had turned the ground to sand; she had moved every tree 5 feet to the left, leaving many houses in ruin, and in the year before present, she had wished away the town's spoons. The only good bit of news involving her soon return was the fact that she reversed each prior wish when she came. She had turned the ground back to the way it had been before the sand, she had moved the trees back 5 feet to the right, and soon, she would bring back their spoons. To the children, the witch meant good news; they could eat cereal once again.

The day began swiftly as the colder temperatures began to kick in. Harvest season kicked off in a rigorous succession of the summer, and the witch arrived much the same. No one saw her come into town, though some speculated that she lived underground in an undisclosed location, and some claimed to have spotted her when in reality, they had seen some form of harmless animal on the village’s outskirts. She was an unkempt witch, with dark frizzled hair that appeared fried running down to her stomach and wearing all red. With a red hat on the top of her head, a red coat, tattered red pants, and an absence of shoes on her feet, she reeked of petulance.

The witch’s face was composed of much the same absurdity as her outfit. Eyes of slightly differing sizes (her left eye slightly smaller than her right, her left being orange in hue and her right eye blue), a nose that only barely ran with snot, cheeks that harbored moles, warts, and dirt, and a smile missing all but five teeth. Two on the top and three on the bottom. Unsettling, unsettled.

She had come, as she had years before, to the town square, an area of the road next to which an old-timey bar and a children’s playground were situated, and she yelled at the top of her lungs to alert the people that she had come and that they better arrive. It was believed that the more people present for her yearly wish made her kinder due to a greater amount of attention, and so when that scream came, everyone knew that they were to show up; drop what you’re doing, and come to the town square. She’s back.

Within five minutes, the entirety of the town’s population had shown up, which wasn’t much considering it was a village of only about two hundred-and-fifty, but it was all that could attend. The witch seemed satisfied with the turnout.

“All here?” she asked in a shriveled tone that must’ve smelled putrid up close. The villagers looked around and nodded their heads. Some of the children that had come began to cry; the witch paid no attention to these kids, and their parents shut them up by using their hands to cover up their mouths.

“You all know what happens next,” said the witch. She looked out to the children after their tears had halted, and aloud she said, “I wish for the villager's spoons to be returned to them.” Though nothing flickered or changed to the seeable eye, the people knew that when they returned home, there would be spoons right back to where they had been a year before, in cupboards, in shops, and most importantly, soon in the hands of the children. But this wish was merely one of two, and the villagers were plagued with quick flushes of anxiety.

“Okay,” she heaved. “Now, it is time. You all are to respect my wish and abide by it, and anyone seen attempting to reverse my curse shall be met with an even worse sentence. Is all understood?” The shivering townspeople nodded their heads, some saying “yes” as the question was asked.

“I wish..” spoke the witch, and the villagers held their breath in worried anticipation, “for the leaves to turn red during the harvest season as a reminder of my power.” The farmers clutched their hats, put their other hand in their pockets, and gulped down; worrying news.

Suddenly, the leaves around the villagers began to change. They turned an orange color immediately, some straight to red. It almost appeared as if the witch had done the spell wrong due to the variety of colors laid out around the town, but she seemed satisfied with the look of the newly colored leaves.

“The leaves will then turn back after the harvest season and the winter ends. I choose to be light this year and watch the pretty leaves; next year will be much, much worse.”

With these words, the witch turned around and walked off down the road past the old-timey bar and soon out of sight. But as she left, the voice of a child, whose mouth had become unbound, rang out, “I wish she could go away and never come back!”

Suddenly, though far away, it became noticeable that the witch had been lifted into the air by some unique force, and before they knew it, she had disappeared. Her frizzled hair, her hat, her pants, her diseased feet, all gone into the air before the men, women, and children, and in a flurry, the conclusion beset them all.

The witch wasn’t all-powerful like they had thought originally; this day of the calendar, or perhaps this time of the year, harbored some magic it seemed when anyone who had discovered the correct time frame could make a wish! A wish that could come true. And what the villagers found when the witch had been cast away was that the leaves she left were beautiful, and reflected well the feel the autumn gave to the farmers and the children.

The villagers decided to keep the leaves.

The decision was not a tedious one and began with a farmer, one who had but until that moment been utterly afraid, muttered under his breath, “my, I wish the leaves changed to be this color every year.” And some force did it for him, and for everyone else but couldn’t help but fall in love.

The years went by in annual succession, and every fall, the leaves turned red, as the farmer had wished. The witch remained wherever she had been cast, and though the villagers remained rather conservative in their wishes, some were able to get their way and make the most out of once was the worst time of year. The leaves were a reminder of a horrible curse, but as that farmer saw it, the leaves were leaves, and they were, like all the people of the town, absolutely beautiful.