The old tale goes like this: "God gave us paradise. In His immense and blinding love, a place for something made of love to generate and procreate love in His image. But even in His glory, He forgot that nothing is perfect if it's not Him. And so the love that fed us when we were hungry and sheltered us from the dark, fell short on some malicious hands; they wanted more, and so they turned to the obscure, they turned to the devil. Witches and beasts of the dark roam our very same land now, they watch us when we sleep and take away those that, stupidly and naively, don't come home when the dark veil of the night covers the earth."

This tale, as old as time, was engraved on my mind. Burnt on my brain to leave a mark and stay forever, much like when we brand a newly born lamb; much like the whip marks on my back. Those are the words of my strict, old and withered mother, now blind and crippled, she makes sure I always remember them. We live near the forest edge, a place even the men of the village fear when it's dark. It's a small homestead made out of hardwood, nothing too fancy, with a little basement where we store foods and other similar goods, and an even smaller attic where I sleep and pray. Mother keeps the rest of the house for herself, I'm only allowed to roam free when I'm cleaning it, but it doesn't bother me. A simple shed houses our fourteen sheep and eight chickens, well, seven now (one got eaten yesterday, probably from a curious fox) mother was very displeased at such incompetence of mine. I usually get up very early in the morning when it's still dark, I wash and dress mother and, by the time I'm finished, it's already time to feed the animals. Twice a week, in the evening, I go out to feed the sheep and let them roam a bit, so that they can eat the soft and fresh grass of the forest. I always make sure not to go too far, of course, mother warned me of what lives in these woods.

"I'm going to feed the sheep today, mother, stay well till my return." She always responds with the same four words -"Quick, careful and obedient." - "Quick, careful and obedient" I repeat to myself on my way out. It is a long evening of October, with a soothing breeze carrying the smell of pumpkin pie from the village downstream; the sheep are louder than usual today, but I don't mind. After a short walk in the forest, we reached the usual spot, a clearing with emerald blade of grass and a small pond of water where small frogs like to sing love songs to each other. I sit atop a big tree stump covered in moss, take out my sketchbook and draw, making sure to give quick glances at my heard from time to time. I don't pray here, mother said I should, to protect me from the devil, but I like the peace and quiet that the sound of the leaves from the trees moving with the wind gives; I don't want to disturb that with my voice. That day, though, I wished I had prayed every second of my life. She came silent, like a fox in the night, and not even my sheep heard her. I noticed when it was already too late, lost in my drawing, she was flying above the pond a mere ten meters from me. My blood run cold, my shoulders tensed, and I started sweating, she was looking at me, at me! A crooked finger covered in mud, maybe blood, suddenly pointed at me, and a sinister yet charming voice came forth from the wicked lips of the witch, - "I don't like humans." I stood up, ready to die at the hands of a creature of the night, but with glory in my heart, - "You know only of hate and misery witch! God gave us love, and you renounced it; He protects me, you cannot hurt me!" My heart was beating as loud as the Sunday bells, she said - "Your god doesn't love me for I love myself first, his love is not unconditional, I choose freedom over his puny kingdom of shit!" The words of the witch cut through me like a knife, my soul was bleeding. "Kill me if you will, I will arise to His glory." - "Oh little girl" she said - "I watched you move in your house, tend to your animals and that beast you call your mother. I watched you lick the chains that bind you to this miserable life, just to taste something that could resemble love. You are not loved, my dear, not from your mother, not from your god nor from yourself." She paused as if to think, then before disappearing said, - "I will not hurt you, I want to show you freedom, come here again tomorrow, and I'll set you free."

"Mother, I'm home, mother dear." Silence, she was sleeping in her chair, I let her. That night, visions of my mother came to me in a dream, she was burning together with the house and her precious cross; when I woke up, I found myself licking my lips at the thought. I left in a hurry that day, barely looking at her room, I heard her scream at me, - "Come here you insolent idiot! What a failure of a daughter you are!"... I let her. By the time I reached the clearing, she was already there waiting for me. "And so you came..." I interrupted her in an instant - "I want to be free, free of this pain, free of this life." - "As you wish."

That night, under the moonlight, for the very first time in my life, I enjoyed the way the stars shimmer in the dark vastness of the black sky. In truth, I enjoyed more the flickering dance of the flames, reflecting from the eyes of my newly found friend; the very same flames that were consuming my home, and all the pain within it. We run in the night, free, strange laughter and sinister eyes accompanied us all the way to the forest, and I could feel my feet lift off the ground. I was free now, free to love myself... Chained to no god, no mother and no pain. I was a witch.

All along, I was a witch too.

-Dedicated to you Eleonora, dedicated to my witchy friend.-