Are there really witches

January 15, 2011

“Is he awake yet” the detective asked as he entered the cell?

“No” the constable said.

“Throw some water on him.”

“Yes sir” the constable said. He took a pail from the hallway, put it under the single tap in the cell and let the cold water fill the bucket.  Once full the constable poured it slowly over the drunk lying on the bunk.

The shock of the ice cold water jerked him awake. “Stop it, stop it” he yelled “You fuckers” John Yellow Feathers cursed in his soggy discomfort.

The detective and the constable watched as the man struggled to get up. His weather beaten hands wiped his face. He shook his head and the long black hair swirled about him casting water in every direction. Even before it settled he brushed it away from his eyes.

The scarred face revealed the torment of street life. He looked to the detective and said “Fuck man what are you rousting me for. I gave you the information, don’t I get a fuckin break.”

“The guy was dead when we showed up John” the detective said.

John rubbed his jaw, looked down at the floor and turned his head from side to side several times before looking up to the detective and asking “How?”

“John I don’t give that kind of news out in the drunk tank” the detective said.

“Come on Raven, give me a break, I gave up a friend to you. There’s no one here but you, me, and this fuck stick, so tell me.”

The constable made a threatening move towards John, the detective held up his hand and he stepped back.

The detective took a breath and said “Someone crushed his head in a vice or something like that.”

John looked at the detective, stood and began to undress one garment at a time. He laid each piece neatly on the bunk. He took the necklace with is small catch of earth from the reserve on the North Shore, gave it to the detective and said “See that my mother gets this” and went back to disrobing.

Holding the necklace and looking at Yellow Feathers the detective said “Would you like to tell me just what the hell you are doing.”

“I’m getting ready to die” John said.

“What are you talking about” the detective asked?

“The witch will come for me next” John said.

“The witch, what witch, you’re still drunk John” the detective said.

John looked at the detective, a scowl wove a path across the scars and said “I’ve been telling you about witches for a long time and not once did you believe me. Her name is Kim” but before he could get it all out he screamed in a horrifying pitch of pain, clutched his chest, fell into the detectives arms and died.

Lowering John to the floor he yelled at the constable “Get the medical officer now.”

The constable left immediately as the detective checked for a pulse and found none. “What did he say” he asked himself “Something about a witch, he was drunk. He said a name … Kim or something like that.”

Kneeling next to his informant Detective Ken Raven thought I have to be wrong, there are no witches… are there?

Kimberley smiled and thought l’ll let him keep that thought for a while.

The constable had already forgotten the incident and what he was to do, he went for coffee.

Watch for the witch’s malice coming this fall

David Hutchison, Writer