Legend of the Night Witch

Our story begins with a priest who is very stressed about his job. The atheists that question him really made him wonder if what he stands for is right. He wondered if what he spread every day at church was all lies. It put a lot of stress on him and many questions left unanswered. He went to the bar to get an escape or maybe just a clear mind on the situation. The priest went into this hole in the wall bar near his house. There were only about five men in this bar sitting at their bar stools crouched over having a little drink. They were all older men maybe in about their forties. The priest walked up to the bartender and ordered a whiskey. The bartender quickly put the priest’s drink together with a grim face and slammed it on the bar counter. The priest paid the frail bartender and took a seat in a booth on the other side of the bar, away from the older men.
The priest had taken a few sips of his whiskey on the rocks when he had overheard the five men in the bar talking. The priest heard the five men mutter something about telling lies. The priest was curious about what these men were saying, and hoping that they weren't talking about him, asked the four men what they are talking about. One of the elder men sitting more towards the middle of the bar turned around. The older man asked the priest if he had heard the story of the silent witch. the priest replied no. Although the priest had never heard of this story he was curious on how the story goes. The priest asked, “Can you tell the story of the night witch?”
The man at the bar said, “Sure. Our story begins around the time of the Salem Witch Trials where many, many people were killed for being accused of witchcraft.”
The man explained that, “In this very town, many people were killed for witchcraft. The last witch killing the town made was on a little girl who was only thirteen years old.” The bartender was straightforward in his explanation.
The priest was so surprised that a little girl was killed because she was accused of being a witch. The bartender finished his story by explaining that the little girl was accused for talking to herself while she was outside by herself and the town thought that she must be a witch.
The bartender dove into the story with a low, hovering voice, “It was abnormal for anyone to talk to themselves. The rumor spread around and soon enough people all over the town had heard about the little girl talking to herself and were afraid of her. The priest of the church in this town had heard about the girl and decided that this town needed to be rid of this paranormal witchcraft. He told many people about how witchcraft is evil and we need to get rid of these witches that infect our town. The townspeople, enraged about the evil in the town, screamed and chanted “let’s kill her” and “burn her at the stake”. Their words carried into the night until they started a mob with pitchforks, ropes for lynching, and torches for burning at night fall. It was a dark, cold night in which this priest had led the mob through the darkened woods to the little girl’s home.”
The bartender takes a breath and ponders his next words. “Many of the townspeople started burning most of the trees by the little girl’s house. The little girl’s parents had seen this and came outside. They were surrounded by the screaming mob. The priest screamed over the angry mob’s voices, ‘This man and woman needed to be killed for raising this witch!’”
“The townspeople had thrown their ropes over a branch of the biggest tree in front of the house. The crowd pushed the little girl’s mother and father underneath the branch and strung the rope around their necks. Four or five people at each rope pulled the ropes back and watched the witch’s parents flop for air like fish. Once the life left their bodies, they dropped from the branch into the dirt. The crowd was fired up when the priest screamed boldly, “Now let’s find the girl!”
“The crowd rushed into the house, searching for the girl. The priest found the girl in her bed and dragged her by her hair all the way out the front door. He threw her into the dirt in front of her parents’ dead corpses. She began crying on her knees, begging for her life. The crowd surrounded the girl chanting, ‘Kill the witch!” The ghastly chant echoed in the quiet night. The priest silenced the crowd.”
“The girl explained in a weak voice, “I’m not a witch,” but the crowd just thought she was lying. As the girl pleaded for her life in the dirt, the priest kicked her off her knees and onto her back. He stood over her as she tried to crawl backwards, in tears, away from him. The priest screamed, “You can wish upon the stars, but they won't save you tonight!” He grabbed her feet as she was kicking and screaming.”
“He proclaimed to the crowd, “This girl is a liar! She must pay so she can never tell a lie again!”
“Some of the enraged crowd grabbed her arm, legs, and head. They held her to the dirt as she screamed and cried. The priest stood over her head and pulled out a knife. The crowd went silent. He grimly told the girl and enraged crowd, “This is what you get for telling lies.” He slowly put the knife near her mouth. She screamed, “Please help me, please stop!” She was in tears when the priest grabbed her jaw and held it open. He stuck the knife in her mouth. He started sawing at the girl’s tongue. As she screamed, the priest hacked the last string of flesh holding her tongue in her mouth. The night went silent as the girl twitched but she couldn't let out a scream.”

The priest sat the bar, glued to his chair, asked, “What happened after that?”
“Well, what do you think?” the man at the bar growled. “They hung her from the skies. This town is cursed by the witch to this day and she cuts the tongues out of those who tell lies when they are about to fall asleep and she even comes back with her tongue in her mouth.”
The priest found the legend kind of hard to believe, but he still feared the thought of the tale. A different man from the left of the bar stood up and said, “I feel bad for you because if the town is cursed you preach the biggest lie of them all and you preach it every day to the town.”
The priest was really upset by what this man said so he ordered some more whiskey. He slammed his drinks then wobbled out of the bar and started his walk home. It was a cold, dark, stormy night, but the priest couldn't stop thinking about the tale of the witch. It wasn't long before the priest reached his front yard. He walked up the stairs to his front door when the lightning cracked and it started pouring rain. He unlocked the door and opened it when the lighting cracked again it looked like someone was standing in front of him by the door. He turned to switch the light on and when he turned no one was there. The priest continued on like nothing happened and he was just seeing things so he grabbed the mail and his letter opener and began opening his mail. The rest of the house was pitch black except his living room.
The priest heard some rattling in the kitchen as he was opening his mail. Frightened, he set down his mail and walked slowly towards the kitchen with the letter opener in his hand ready to strike at any given moment. He reached the arch of the doorway and the lighting cracked again. He saw a glimpse of a person standing in front of him again. He quickly turned on the light, ready to strike, but no one was there. Am I so drunk that I am seeing things? I’d better go to bed. This can’t be good.
He went up the stairs to his bedroom with the letter opener in his hand just incase someone was actually with him in the house. He entered his room as the lighting cracked. The priest lay in his bed and placed the letter opener by his bedside. He started to think about what the man at the bar said. Maybe he is right. Maybe the town is cursed with the silent witch and she's seeking out the tongues of the liars.
All of the sudden, he heard a creaking sound going up the stairs. The priest called out “hello... is anyone there?” There was no answer and all was silent. The priest cuddled up with his blankets fearing someone is in the house with him. The thunder cracked and the lighting was brighter than ever. Every breath of the priest’s seemed louder than ever. His heart was racing. Maybe the witch is here to get my tongue for lying to the public every day at church. The priest was panicking; he was terrified. The witch is here, the witch is here.
The priest heard creaking again. He looked to the door as the thunder boomed and lightning cracked. He saw the witch in the door standing with rusty old scissors in hand. The priest jumped and shivers went down his spine. Silent whispers repeated “liar, liar, liar” chanting like the mob from the story. The priest was terribly frightened so many thoughts were rushing through his head. I'm gonna die, he thought as the whispers were still going. The priest screamed out, “leave me alone” and all the whispers suddenly stopped.
The lightning flashed again, the witch was straight in front of him hovering with her hair down in her face and the pair of rusty scissors. The witch even had her tongue back in her mouth. he thought “I’m seeing things, I’m just seeing things”. The lighting cracked when the witch screeched “you needs to pay for the lies!” that’s when the priest knew he wasn't seeing things anymore. She flew at the priest and pinned him down by his shoulder. The priest fought for dear life pushing hitting, kicking and screaming. The witch laughed as the lighting cracked. She pulled out the scissors and put them by the priest’s face. The witch screamed to the priest, “you can pray to your god but he won't save you tonight!” and began to break out in loud harsh laughter again.
The priest started to scream “no stop, why me?”
He struggled to break free thrashing around, but he just couldn't win. While the priest was screaming, the witch grabbed his jaw. She shoved the rusty dirty dirty brown snips in his mouth. He could taste the rust of the old snips. The priest managed to get one last scream out. “Help me, please help me!” he shouted. The witch spread the scissors apart and snipped the edge of his tongue. The tongue squished slowly and split under the edges of the blades flowing out blood like a river of red. The priest could feel the blood spill into the back of his throat. The witch spread the scissors again and started snipping away at his tongue. Blood was everywhere, it poured out of the priest’s mouth and on to the witch’s hands. She ripped at his tongue with the rusty snips. The tongue was still hanging by a bloody vain, when she spread her scissors one last time to cut the tongue off and “snip” the tongue came falling out of his mouth. As she took one last laugh, she picked up the tongue and disappeared with it. All was silent and the night slowly came to an end. The next day the priest’s neighbor came to his house to check and see if he is ok, because she had heard many horrific screams in the night. But she didn't want to call the cops unless it was needed. She walked right through the front door, because he had left it unlocked. The neighbor looked around the living room and kitchen and could not find him anywhere. She went up the stairs to his bedroom, there was still no sign of him. She entered the bedroom where she found him dead, covered in blood with the letter opener in the right hand and his tongue in the left hand. The corpse of the priest also had a cut straight along his throat. The priests blood was everywhere! The neighbor called the police when they quickly came and looked at the body they informed her he killed himself while he was intoxicated.

the end!