Young Jimmy stood at the front garden gate to the cottage at the end of the row beside the village green. His friends taunted him from across the street. \u201cGo on, Jimbo! You done it! You\u2019re a scaredy-cat,\u201d various voices shouted, delighted at his trepidation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe won\u2019t do it. He\u2019ll run home crying to his mum,\u201d hollered another. Jimmy looked back at his so-called friends, his face red and puffy, his tears just below the surface. \u201cLook at him; he\u2019s gonna boo-hoo.\u201d Chants of \u201cJimbo\u2019s a cry-baby! Jimbo\u2019s a cry-baby,\u201d from merciless voices rang in Jimmy\u2019s ears, the banter, and mockery accompanied by exuberant laughter and whooping. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jimmy pushed open the gate and stepped inside, bringing a sarcastic cheer from his watching friends, enthusiastically anticipating and hoping for his next miss-step. He thought maybe he could throw a rock at the front door from here, \u2018it\u2019s only six or seven yards away; I couldn\u2019t miss it.\u2019 He thought better of the plan \u2013 throwing rocks at people\u2019s houses for whatever reason had never gotten him anything but trouble in the past. \u2018I best leave the gate open, in case I need to get outa here a running,\u2019 he assured himself. He still couldn\u2019t believe how his amazing good luck had turned into incredibly bad luck in such a short time. \u2018It just ain\u2019t fair,\u2019 he told himself, \u2018it just ain\u2019t fair.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jimmy had spent the afternoon with his friends, the ones who now harassed him from afar. They had been playing a game of pick-up cricket at one end of the village green \u2013 no teams, no one keeping score, just a group of nine and ten-year-olds playing in the summer sun. Late in the afternoon, the sun dissolving slowly into twilight suggested it was about time to go home for tea. For the last ball of the game, Jimmy was at bat. The ball pitched slightly on his leg side. Making one of the best strokes he had ever made, Jimmy connected bat with ball square on, driving it over the upturned faces of awe-inspired, gaping-mouthed young fielders for what should have been six runs. The ball flew beyond the green, over the road, over the high wall, and into the back garden of the end cottage beside the village green.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The mood of his team-mates switched from amazement to mirth in the space of a few seconds. \u201cHe hit it in the witch\u2019s garden!\u201d they yelled, gloating. \u201cYou know the rules, Jimbo \u2013 you hit it there, you go get it!\u201d shouted one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd be sure to get our ball before she turns you into a frog!\u201d shouted another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBetter not go in her house. She won\u2019t let you out,\u201d screamed a third voice, laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t look her in the eye \u2013 she might just turn you to stone,\u201d taunted yet another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Popular tittle-tattle among village pre-teen boys had the sweet grey-haired old lady living in the end cottage, with her pointy nose and wicked sense of humor, pegged as a witch. On reaching early teens, their obsession usually turned from fear of witches to pop music and girls. The sweet old lady, aware of her reputation, took delight in playing the part, often scaring the fire out of many a cocky young\u2019un. Desperate mothers sometimes told their miscreant young offspring that they would \u2018go fetch the witch\u2019 if they didn\u2019t behave, although none could recall an actual follow-through on the threat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jimmy reached the door. \u2018I don\u2019t know about all that witches stuff, I don\u2019t know if what they say is true, but I don\u2019t wanna find out.’ The sound of the heavy doorknocker echoed through the cottage. Jimmy started to tremble uncontrolably. He instinctively took two steps back and stood poised ready to run – when the door opened.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Young Jimmy stood at the front garden gate to the cottage at the end of the row beside the village green. His friends taunted him from across the street. \u201cGo on, Jimbo! You done it! You\u2019re a scaredy-cat,\u201d various voices … Continue reading