I’ve watched for a thousand years to see if the two-leggers would change. They remain the same. Time the reckoning begins,” said the animal.
The cool Autumn air brought a festive feeling to the village. Folks hung decorations, carved pumpkins, and made delicious caramel apples.
“Samhain is coming,” cried the children as they worked on their costumes.
Joy could be found in every home except one. Agatha Fornsworth sat on her front porch watching the world, and she did not like what she saw.
“My bones tell me something old has returned, and a reckoning is at hand,” said the woman.
Sipping her tea, Agatha sensed the arrival of an old one, which might mean one thing: doom.
“Chloe, do you remember the charm of protection I taught you as a child?” Agatha asked her granddaughter.
“Sure. You made me recite it until I thought my tongue would fall out,” replied the child.
“You’ll need it tonight,” said her grandmother.
A small figure emerged from under the cover stone and hopped up onto the altar. The Hare set its eyes upon the glowing lights of the village.
“At the moon’s zenith, I’ll release the dark ones who’ve been locked away. Then I’ll leave this wretched place,” said the Hare.
“Mommy, the air feels wrong tonight,” the child told her mother.
“I’m sure it’s a storm brewing over the mountains,” reassured her mother.
Agatha gathered her charms and lit the candles. Tonight, nothing must be forgotten. Her granddaughter watched as Agatha wound black sheep yarn around the cottage.
“Is it necessary to use the only black yarn for the ward of protection?” asked the girl.
“Child, what’s coming is worse than any story I’ve ever told you,” said Agatha.
A bonfire was lit in the village square, signaling the start of the evening’s festivities. “Hurray, hurray, it’s time to play,” screamed the children.
The Hare closed its eyes and rested. “Soon,” it whispered.
Agatha instructed Chloe to begin reciting the charm. The old woman performed a ritual to shield the cottage from the coming storm.
As the clock bells chimed twelve, the villagers gave a loud cheer. They had made it through another All Hallows’ Eve with nary a scratch.
“Five, four, three, two, one. Door of darkness, release those who have waited for far too long,” said the Hare.
In an instant, a great wind swept over the land, destroying all in its path.
“Hold my hand, child. The dark forces come,” Agatha said.
In the village, the children screamed in terror as people flew like rag dolls. Buildings toppled, and wagons tumbled down the main street.
“Fire, turn the village and its people to ash. Let your brothers the wind carry their evil out to the sea,” said the Hare.
“Granny. I’m not strong enough for fire,” cried the girl.
“Be still and focus on the charm. It will save us,” replied Agatha.
The wind died, and the fire dampened. Nothing stood in the village—nothing except for one small cottage on the forest’s edge.
“A witch has survived. An old one from the before times. Let her be the new beginning. We will see if they learn in a thousand years,” said the animal.
The Hare closed the gate and sealed the elementals in until a time when they would be called forth again.
The Hare sat on the altar for a moment, then blinked and was gone.
“You can relax, child. The dark ones are gone,” said Agatha.
“Granny, will the dark ones return?” asked Chloe.
“Can’t rightly say, child. I know that if folks keep disrespecting the land and earth, then for sure they will be back,” said Agatha.
As new folks arrived to rebuild, they wondered why the cottage had survived. The newcomers stopped by Agatha’s to get her blessing so their home would be safe from nature’s wrath.
Perhaps this time it could work. I guess we’ll need to wait another thousand years to find out.
Folksburywoods 
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