The Witch Doll.

Up till now the road through the valley had been straight but now in front of me was a winding road that would if I followed it further it would lead me into the mountain regions. I had been looking forward to a trip high in the mountains but now seeing from below the twisty winding road with sheer drops down its sides protected only by small stone walls. Even the stone walls were not continuous but looked as if some children had been playing with building blocks and scattered one here and there. Now my engine protested and I had to change gears continually and right at the top of the mountain I was driving in first gear. At the top of the mountain at the side of the road stood a souvenir shop that also sold refreshments such as coffee and small cakes.
The walls of the souvenir shop or café were covered with dolls not the cuddle sort of dolly that little girls play with, but witches. There were over a hundred such witches and I rather fancied one for my lounge at my home. The shop or innkeeper told me they were not for sale a local woman had started bringing them in some years ago and had pinned them to the wooden walls until now there did not seem to be much room for many more of the witch dolls. Slowly drinking my cup of coffee and writing a few postcards to friends and relations a shadow fell over my table. Looking up I saw this woman elderly but with a tanned and wrinkled face. By the look of her face she was used to being in the fresh mountain air. On seeing me she stopped and thrust a doll in my hand take it rescue it if you can before I place it with all of the others in this my graveyard.
I asked her how much the doll would cost me. She would not listen but left the place as silently as she had come. The shop or innkeeper came as I wanted to pay and said “You are indeed lucky this is the first time that she has given anyone one of her witch dolls. I paid the man and walked back to my car. I had this feeling that I was being watched; perhaps you know the feeling when the hairs at the back of your neck seem to stand pushed out by some unknown fear. As I drove off I felt now a feeling of relief a feeling that I was now in safety. The witch was well made with neatly sewn stitches and someone had obviously spent quite some time making her. The hat on her head was pointed and had stars and a sickle moon decorating the black cloth. Even the broomstick that she was sitting on had been very well made; someone had taken a lot of care to get things proportionately in shape and size.
First I had thrown the witch doll carelessly onto the passenger seat but as I drove I caught myself looking at her. This was dangerous and I threw the witch doll onto the back seat. Next my eyes caught a picture of the doll in my driving mirror. I thought to myself this stupid doll is going to cause me to have an accident I had better place it in the boot of the car then I would not be tempted to keep looking at it. At the next filling station I decided to stop and fill my petrol tank. The doll I slipped into the boot not without a guilty feeling as if I was doing something wrong. Paying for my petrol I drove on stopping every two hours to get out of the driving seat have a cup of coffee and a walk around the car.
On the ferry coming back from Ostende in Belgium to Dover in the UK I forgot the witch doll and took a cabin where I had a three hours rest. From Dover to my old home in Dartford Heath it is only a mater of one and a half to two hours. Driving the car into the garage I took my suitcases and the witch doll with me into the house. My first move was to then make a cup of sweet tea. The witch doll sitting on her broom I placed over the mirror. Putting my clothes away in the various cupboards and the washing I had used in the washing machine I went up to bed. I must have been asleep for a couple of hours when a noise awakened me. The witch doll was hovering over my bed her broom was now a flying object no longer a seat to sit on.
Switching on the light I sleepily looked at the witch doll it was actually laughing. “This is a protected house the woman that made me and gave me to you did not know that you are protected by Fairy Magic, she cannot influence me now, I am free.” “What do you mean you are free explain things to me,” I found myself saying. This is the story she told me. The woman that made the witches was in fact herself a witch she had this plan; she would make a thousand witches and leave them in the souvenir shop. They are those witches that she made and who are waiting. One day there will be a coming and going of busses with many passengers all of these passengers will be given a witch doll to be taken all over the world in this way the witch that made us would have power all over the world.
With this new power she wants to rule the world now that I am in a house under Fairy Protection she cannot have any influence on me. Perhaps we can free all of the witches that are waiting to be sent out for her to get her unlimited power. Can you do anything to free all of those waiting witches? I had a word the next day with my friend Shamus and told him the story that the witch doll had told me. “No problem said Shamus this is a job for my trusted shillelagh tonight he will set all of those witches free. The owner of the souvenir shop c*m coffeehouse got quite a shock on the following morning. There was not a witch doll to be seen in his souvenir shop. Later he told his wife about the disappearance of the dolls. His wife wanted him to call the Police but the man was so pleased to have got rid of those dolls and from that day his business increased and when he left the souvenir shop he was quite a rich man. The woman that made the witch dolls never appeared again. If I had not transported my witch doll home with me who know what power would now rule this world. Bern