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Agatha's Legend

A myth submitted to the site by Jonothan Novak

Poland, Europe

It was a particularly dark evening. The crickets were chirping and the owls were hooting. Cold wind slashed through the air. Down in the eerie moonlight bay, where the deadly nightshade grows, a little boy walked alone, cuddled up in his warm winter jacket. His name was Timmy Larson, age seven. He was cutting through the cemetery to get to his friends house. He walked slowly, and stopped when he approached the slick black gates of the cemetery. This wasn’t just any cemetery. This was where the witch of Marauder’s Shack, Agatha, loomed. She was the most cruel, gruesome, and dastardly witch of the Wild West. Every time that she has come out of her shack, someone disappeared, never to be seen again. Legend has it, that if you pour salt into her eyes, Agatha will be banished into the underworld. No one has seen Agatha in thirty seven years.

Timmy had a pack of salt with him, but he thought that since Agatha hadn’t shown up for thirty seven years, she wouldn’t show up for him.

Timmy opened the gates, and continued walking. He started reading gravestones, kicking pebbles, and humming to himself. The night seemed to get darker as Timmy walked. The sky rumbled, as a high-pitched voice cackled. Timmy tensed.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” asked the high-pitched voice, “a little boy has come to play with Agatha the queen of the cemetery. Well, foolish boy, you chose the wrong witch to play with!” Agatha boomed.

For the first time, Agatha revealed herself to Timmy. She was dressed in a ripped up black coat, black boots, and a witch’s hat. Worst of all, her skin was green. Timmy fled at the sight of the witch, back towards his house. His heart was pounding, pumping more and more blood by the second. He was only thinking about his nice warm house until the ground rushed up at his face.

“Ah, so sad. You have fallen. I am standing and you are on the cold ground. You have attempted to escape Agatha’s wrath and look where you are. Writhing in pain like a snail with salt on it. You will soon suffer my wrath.” Agatha boomed. Timmy was snatched up in a brown sack and flown on a broomstick to Agatha’s shack.

Four hours later, the whole town knew what had happened. They called it an “Agatha Attack.” The cemetery was swarming with cops calling out “Timmy, Timmy,” but heard no answer. Timmy was declared a missing person by the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

No one ever went to cemetery on Moonlight Bay in fear of disappearing. Timmy Larson was never seen again.

By Jonothan Novak
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