The Witch's Cavern

"Once upon a time," the Scoutmaster, Ben Richardson, began, with Cub Scout Troop 17 gathered around a large, crackling fire at the end of the first day of their camping trip. "There was a young man who went hiking in these very woods, in search of the witch's cavern."

Scoutmaster Ben held a flashlight beneath his chin in the standard pose of the scary storyteller. He continued. "The young man's name was Alex Finch. He was 10-years old and he did not believe in witches. He had heard the story of the witch's cavern hidden deep in the hills of Rollins Woods since before he started school. At first he was frightened by the story of the witch, who it was said feasted on the small creatures of the forest and little children who wandered off the paths that criss-crossed the woods, failing to heed their parents' warnings to stay where they could see them. 

"As he got older, Alex grew to believe the story of the witch's cavern was nothing more than a well intentioned lie, a story for little children, to keep them from wandering off on adventures. But 10-year old Alex Finch thought of himself as all grown up. He was not a little child and he wanted an adventure.

"So, he swapped the school books in his backpack for a flashlight, a jackknife, some rope, a compass, and two bottles of water and set off early one morning, riding his bike out to the edge of Rollins Woods and the hills that hid the witch's cavern. He locked his bike to the post of the sign at the trailhead, slipped on his backpack, and headed into the woods."

Scoutmaster Ben turned off his flashlight before adding, "And disappeared."

"His bicycle was found where he left it, with his backpack hung on the handlebars. When they opened the backpack," he said as he turned his flashlight back on, and tossed a handful of small twigs he'd kept handy for this moment into the fire, "a small bird - a purple finch - flew out of the backpack and flew around in the trees and bushes for a few seconds before returning to perch on the seat of the bicycle.

"Alex was never seen again, at least not in human form."

Cub Scout David Corbin was not impressed by Scoutmaster Ben's story. "Really? The boy's name is Alex Finch so a witch turns him into a purple finch? That's your story?"

"Witches," Scoutmaster Ben said, "have strange senses of humor."

"He was lucky his last name wasn't Butts," Cub Scout Sam Sharp said. The other Cub Scouts giggled.

"Or Pooh," Cub Scout Elliot Burns said. 

"What?" Sam asked. "That doesn't make any sense. Nobody's named Poo."

"Winnie the Pooh," Elliot said, sounding completely confident in his example, confidence that inexplicably grew in the awkward silence that followed.

"He was lucky his name wasn't Weiner," Cub Scout Tommy Patrick said to another round of giggles.

"First name, Oscar. Middle name, Mayer," Sam said. More giggles.

"Good one," Tommy said.

"And out of the backpack flies a package of hotdogs!" Sam said.

"Don't be stupid," David said. "Hot dogs can't fly."

"Hey, hey, now," Scoutmaster Ben said. "What have we said about hurtful words?"

David hung his head. "I'm sorry for calling you stupid, Sam."

"Thank you, David," Scoutmaster Ben said. "I know you didn't mean it. It's late, we're all tired, and we've got a big day of hiking ahead of us tomorrow. Let's all turn in, now. Okay?"

*****

As the troop ate their breakfast cereal, Scoutmaster Ben noted an absence. "Where's David?" His question was answered by a collective shrug and the atavistic echoes of the kill as the boys tore into their Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, and Cap'n Crunch with their mouths open, the mild-blood dripping from the corners of their mouths. 

Scoutmaster Ben checked the tents but there was no sign of David Corbin. 

Great, Ben thought. One day into my first camping trip and I've already lost one of my cubs. He walked the perimeter of their camp until he noticed the signs that David must've left on his way into the woods. "David!" Scoutmaster Ben called out. "David!" He checked his phone. No signal.

He returned to the troop. The boys were cleaning up after finishing their breakfast.

"David went to find the witch's cavern," Sam said. 

"He thought your story was nuts and he was going to prove it," Tommy said.

"He made us promise not to say anything," Elliot said. "I know he said he didn't believe in witches but I think he was a little afraid, too."

"So, we talked about it and decided to tell you," Sam said.

Ben was angry and scared and struggled to think straight. He mustered the last ounce of self control he had left and said, "I'm glad you decided to tell me." He took a deep breath and tried to sound confident. "Let's go find David. Get your packs, compasses, and bring two bottles of water each. All right?"

The boys stood where they were, looking at him, not moving. 

"The story you told us about the witch's cavern," Elliot said with a tremor in his voice. "That wasn't a true story was it?"

Scoutmaster Ben laughed and thought it sounded like the laugh of a lunatic. "Of course not!" He smiled, he hoped, reassuringly. He could tell by the look on their faces that he had not been successful. "Let's go! Get your packs! We leave in five minutes." 

*****

Everyone knew about the series of caves in and under the hills of Harris Woods. They were, in fact, something of an attraction for local hikers and weekend campers. As for the exact location of the so-called witch's cavern, David wasn't sure, but he had a plan. He was prepared  to solve the problem systematically, visiting each cave in turn using the cartoonish map he picked up at the trailhead info center. He would start at the cave nearest the top of the tallest of the three hills that were covered by the pines, oaks, and maples of Harris Woods. David didn't believe in witches but according to the stories, they could fly on broomsticks and David reasoned that if there was a witch, a real witch, that witch would want to be able to fly in and out of the cavern as easily as possible. There were fewer trees near the tops of the hills. While he couldn't be absolutely certain about his logic, he had a plan, and that, in and of itself, was reassuring.

He found the cave without any trouble, the morning sun still low over the eastern horizon, casting a jaundiced light on the oaks that framed the opening to the cave. David stepped up to the edge of the cave and hollered. "Hello!"

After a moment, as David held his breath, he heard the reply. "Hello!" 

David trembled, his breath still tight in his chest. It was not an echo. At last he exhaled. It can't be, he thought. This isn't real, he thought. I'm dreaming. The doubt and fear he felt was overwhelming. He could not deny the truth of this moment, even before she appeared. This was it; the witch's cavern.

She stepped out of the shadows of the cave and into the morning light that spilled into the mouth of the cave. She was tall, with red hair that seemed like fire on her head. Her skin was white and brilliant as silver. She wore dark green leggings with a wide, brown belt, leather boots, and a pale green blouse with a print of yellow flowers, Van Gogh's sunflowers. She smiled and her dark eyes seemed to sparkle. David thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"You d-d-don't look like a, like a, witch," David stammered.

"Really?" the woman said, still smiling her hypnotically beautiful smile. "How do witches look?"

"Ugly," David said.

"Ugly?" the woman said. "That's a hurtful word, isn't it?"

"Y-y-yes," David said. 

"So. Witches are ugly. I'm not ugly. Therefore, I'm not a witch. Is that it?" she asked.

"And they dress all in black," David blurted.

"They do, don't they?" the woman said. She took a step closer to David. "Well, as you can see, I prefer earth tones. I think it suits my complexion. Not to mention my hair color." She paused. "Were you looking for a witch?"

"Y-y-yes," David said. "I mean, no. I don't believe in witches."

"You don't?" she asked.

"My, um, my scoutmaster told us a scary story about a witch and I knew that's all it was, you know, it was just a story - " David began.

"A scary story," she said.

"Yes," David said. "A scary story."

"Because you don't believe in witches," she said.

"Right. That's right," Davi said. "So, I decided to find this so-called witch's cavern and prove that it was just a, just a - "

"A story?" she asked. "So, what was the story?"

"The witch in the story turned a boy named Alex Finch into a bird," David said. "A purple finch."

The woman laughed and her laughter seemed to trumpet from the cave and for just a few seconds replaced all the other sounds in the world. "That's hilarious," she said. "A Finch to a finch." The songbirds in the surrounding trees filled the air with a cacophony of chirping, like an audience responding to a stand up comedian's well-timed joke. David's mind was racing. What had Scoutmaster Ben said about witches' senses of humor? The cackling laughter of the birds began to fade. "What's your name?" she asked.

"David Corbin," he said, almost smiling. She wasn't a witch - there was no such thing, there was no such thing, there was no such thing - but still he was glad in that moment that his name wasn't David Butts. Or Oscar Mayer Weiner.

"Corbin," the woman said. "Did you know that Corbin is a Latin name for crow?" The cave and the world around David once again was filled with her laughter.

*****

Scoutmaster Ben had the same map of the Harris Woods caves but he had started with the caves closest to the troop's camp. He and the cubs searched each cave in turn and it was nearly noon before they reached the witches cavern. 

Ben Richardson stood at the edge of the cave mouth with the Cub Scouts close behind him and shouted into the darkness. "David!" He waited a few seconds and shouted again. "David!" They felt a cold wind that blew out of the cave, like the exhalation of a dying man's last breath.

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked.

"What?" Elliot asked. "What did you hear?"

"It sounded like something breathing," Sam said.

"Quiet!" Scoutmaster Ben admonished.

They boys were still. Scoutmaster Ben did his best to concentrate his senses in the silence that followed but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the call of a crow nearby. "David!" he shouted.

Nothing came in reply, save for the crow in the woods.

"This is the last cave on the map, isn't it?" Elliot said.

"Yes," Scoutmaster Ben said.

"This is it," Sam said. "It has to be. The witch's cavern."

"It was just a story, Sam," Ben said.

"You felt that cold air coming out of the cave," Tommy said.

"That's ghosts not witches," Elliot said.

"I think it's witches, too," Sam said.

"So," Tommy said as he took out his flashlight. "What are we waiting for?"

Scoutmaster Ben hesitated, overwhelmed by the possibility of what they might find in the cave. The fear had grown within him incrementally with each of the seven caves he and the Cubs had explored on their way to the top of the hill and now he felt bereft of hope. "Look, boys, why don't you wait here for me this time? I'll go take a look and be right back, okay?"

"David is our friend," Elliot said.

"That's right," Sam said.

"We're going with you," Tommy said.

*****

Scoutmaster Nathan Johnson looked at the firelit faces of Cub Scout Troop 37, waiting in rapt attention for him to continue the story. "So, they followed Scoutmaster Ben into the witch's cavern. And Cub Scout Troop 17 was never seen again." He paused. "No trace of the Scoutmaster or any of the Cub Scouts has ever been found to this very day. But it's said, that if you climb to the top of the tallest hill in Harris Woods, and you call out to David Corbin, a crow will answer you." And with that, he switched off his flashlight.