Once upon a time, there was an immortal witch who lived in the woods. She had built her own little house out of rocks and logs, moss and pieces of glass, little animal bones, pebbles, trinkets, feathers, and fur.
The low ceiling was lined with wooden beams and a hundred varieties of flowers and herbs hung down from it tied with strings. There was a fireplace to one side, big enough for a cooking pot to hang over the fire, and a little bed was beside it. A book case stood on the other side of the bed, and a large wood table & chairs were in the middle.
The witch lived only with her animals, chickens and a goat, two cats who chased the mice, and a shaggy dog for his company. As with most hedge or woods witches, mortals would call on her for help from time to time, and her biggest enjoyment in life came from using her powers for them... but for our wistful witch in particular, she was a sex witch, with a magical pussy and heart. People would come to her home in the woods, bringing their loneliness and pain like layers of heavy coats.. and the witch would use her magic to turn it into pleasure and hope.
As the years went by, the witch became very strong.. her magic evolved into a complex web of sensual energy. As she became more powerful, this magic began to be too much for the mortals who darkened her doorway. They left sadder than ever, empty inside; their bodies still walking and going through life, but souls smoldered and reduced to ash.
The very people she yearned to help began to fear her; fewer came.. and when they did, her magic was now warped with desperation. Her kindness was thick sap and her sensuality sickened.. like too much sugary syrup to cover a bitter drink.
Word of this ugly power spread, and soon no one darkened her door at all. With no way to share her magic, it became tainted with loneliness. The flowers she had lovingly planted around her home were neglected and began to grow up and over the walls. They grew and thickened, hardened and became covered with thorns.
Vines covered the roof and windows and door. Vines wormed into and out of every nook and crack, they made crevices where none existed and grew deep into her rock walls. The witch, all alone in her sweet house that had become a prison, felt her powers swirl and her magic rage, but there was nowhere for it to go.
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A mule plodded slowly down a dirt road, too dim witted to be afraid of the approaching storm. Bags were slung across his back, the weight more a comfort than a burden, to an animal who had only known such things.
Beside him walked a man, wise enough to be anxious. Behind him, darkness from the clouds, a rumble in the air and electricity on his skin. The road ahead had been wide enough when they started, but had narrowed down to a path, barely wide enough for him to stay alongside his mule. He cursed himself for asking a street wench for directions to the next town; and for thinking he could make it there before the storm hit.
A fat drop of water hit his face, and before his stomach could fall, the single drop of water turned to a torrent of cold hell. The ground underneath him began to melt away, mud slid outward and his mule lost its footing.. the man grabbed at the harness, trying to keep it upright, but at that moment a bolt of lighting flashed in the trees.. blinded and deafened, the man was tossed back and hit the steep ground hard, his momentum carried him down the hill, sliding in the mud, bouncing over roots and rocks.. he did not stop the descent until a tree, as wide as he was tall, was suddenly in his trajectory
The man woke up in the dark and felt panic. He remembered the rain and losing his mule, he remembered the mud. He sat straight up in the dark and tried to listen, but could only hear the rush of his own blood.
A creaking sound pierced his brain, then another.. they were soft but close by. Then a gentle cluck noise..? His panic lessened, turned to somewhat calm.. and he realized it wasn't completely dark after all, there was some measure of dim light entering the room. The man turned his head towards the sound, and saw the outline of a soft brown hen shuffling across a wooden floor.
Out of nowhere, every hair on the man's body stood up. He whipped his head back in the opposite direction, and instantly regretted it.. pain flashed in his skull and neck, he made a gasp sound and shut his eyes tight in reaction.
His head was pounding to the beat of his heart, when a cool fingertip touched the center of his forehead. The pain vanished and calm overtook him, and as he slowly let his eyelids open, standing to the side of him was a woman.
