The Curse of The Wax Witch

A Halloween Tale

“Boo!”

Ruth lifted her gaze to the werewolf in front of her and sighed.

“Terrifying,” she deadpanned before reaching up to tug a rubber ear.

“Hey, don’t rip it! I had to wait a month for this to arrive,” Ben whined. He pulled off the fluffy mask to reveal a ruddy, freckled face with shining braces.

“From where? 1993? That thing looks ancient.”

“It’s vintage. Plus buying used is greener—so, bite me.”

Ben flopped down on the bench across from her, tossing his lunch bag on the table. “Anyways, what’s your costume gonna be?”

Ruth gave a shrug, picking at tater tots on her lunch tray.

“I’m not dressing up. We’re thirteen.”

Ben scoffed.

“What? That’s stupid. My brothers are seventeen and they are dressing up. Bo just spent his summer savings on a screen-accurate Captain America costume.”

A huff came from behind them.

“If Bo really wanted to be screen-accurate, he would join me at the gym. He is gonna look like Pre-Serum-Steve with those chicken arms of his,” said a tall girl, taking the seat next to Ruth.

“Not everyone wants to wake up at five a.m. to run around the neighborhood like a greyhound, Sarah,” sneered Ben.

“If I don’t get up early, you and the twins hog the bathroom, Benjamin,” countered Sarah.

Ruth smirked as the pair bickered about the state of their common-use bathroom, Sarah lamenting over the sheer amount of hair her brothers shed all over their house.

Sarah’s mom had married Ben’s dad five years ago. They met while volunteering for a school fundraiser soon after Carla and Sarah had moved to Lorewood from California. After a fast courtship, the Silvas and the Taylors formed one big, loud, happy family. Eight-year-old Sarah had been nervous to go from being an only child to having three brothers overnight, but Ben had helped her settle into his energetic household. He had been excited to have a sister his age to play with—and to have an ally to even the odds against his twin brothers.

“Ru, are you seriously not dressing up for Halloween?” asked Sarah.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Why? Halloween is the best! I have been working on my Xena costume for months.”

Ben grinned into his peanut butter and jelly, proud he’d been the one to introduce Sarah to the 90s fantasy show when she twisted her ankle and was bed-bound for a week.

Ruth returned a good-natured smile.

“It’s—look. I know this town goes gaga for Halloween, and I think that’s…charming. But I thought we could watch some horror movies and hand out candy. Gabby is going out with her friends, so I’m off the hook. Are you guys actually going trick-or-treating?”

“Yes!” they said in unison.

“Oh,” Ruth blinked.

“It’s a huge deal in Lorewood. Halloween is like, a religious holiday here,” argued Ben through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“It is a religious holiday, Ben. It’s All Hallows’ Eve,” Ruth sighed.

“My point, Brainiac. Kids here trick or treat until they are like, sixteen. It’s tradition. Plus, it’s your first Halloween since you moved here, so you gotta go. Case closed.”

A gentle hand came to Ruth’s forearm.

“Also, we are staying at your place on Halloween, so you are kinda outnumbered,” Sarah smiled, giving her arm a double squeeze.

Ruth grumbled, wishing for the first time her mom had not said yes to Sarah and Ben staying for the holiday weekend while their parents toured colleges with the twins.

Sarah perked up.

“I could make you a costume! Yes! I have so much stuff left over from mine and Ben’s,” exclaimed Sarah, giving Ruth an encouraging shake.

Ruth raised a skeptical brow.

“What am I gonna go as? The Werewolf Warrior Princess?”

“That would be awesome,” gasped Ben, a far-off look in his freckled face.

Sarah nodded.

“That it would be, Ben. But let’s keep our options open. I have loads of fabric and accessories. I could make something really cool that’s just for you.”

Ruth looked into their pleading faces, Sarah’s filled with her pretty smile and big brown eyes, Ben’s smeared with jelly.

“Fine. But nothing glued to my face and I am not dyeing my hair.”

Sarah squealed before she squeezed Ruth in a hug.

“Oh, this is gonna be so fun! Plus, why would I dye your hair? Blonde works with so many costumes. We only have two weeks until Halloween, so tomorrow we need to get you measured. I want three solid ideas when we meet. Ben, help her.”

Ben gave a nod and a salute to show he understood his assignment while cramming the remains of his lunch in his mouth.

“I gotta dash, I have to go over the new training schedule for soccer with Claire,” said Sarah as she shouldered her bag. “I love my co-captain, but she is a demon when it comes to being on time. Ben, don’t forget to return those library books. You forgot last week.”

“Yes, Mom,” replied Ben. Sarah snatched a napkin off the table and threw it at him.

“And you have food, like, all over your face,” Sarah snarked before sprinting across the cafeteria. Ruth giggled as Ben indignantly ran his hand down his face, clearing off sandwich debris.

“Come on, I want to score the back seats in History. I need to finish my section of the D&D campaign for Jake. You still cool with proofreading?” asked Ben as they walked down the hall, skillfully dodging teenagers, backpacks, and locker doors.

“No problem. Especially after that typo in the last campaign,” hinted Ruth with a grin. Ben sighed at the ceiling.

“Yeah, the horde of cursed zombies with a thirst for bras was not my finest hour.”

“If it makes you feel better, I laughed so hard I almost passed out.”

“Remind me why we’re friends?”

“Because I know the difference between bras and brains?”

“Fair enough, Jones. I see two seats with our names on them.”

***

Ruth waved goodbye to Ben as she entered her last class of the day, Biology.

It definitely wasn’t her favorite.

She didn’t know anyone in this class, and while Ruth got good grades, she had to put effort into Biology.

Sitting at a lab bench near the middle, Ruth waited as the class filtered in, nervously wondering who would sit next to her today. It wasn’t as if she was disliked—she was just ‘The New Girl’. Ruth wished Sarah or Ben were here now. The room was filling up, yet no one sat next to her. Another day of working alone—

“Hey, Ruth. Can I sit here?”

She looked up—and then up some more to take in the towering figure of Tyler Marston.

“Sure, it’s free.”

“Thanks. How are you doing today?”

The next few minutes passed by in pleasant small talk. Ruth had been sure Tyler didn’t know her name, as she couldn’t remember ever talking to him—yet he did.

Tyler Marston was one of the most popular kids in the freshman class. His handsome face and talent on the basketball court ensured he was admired wherever he went. His love life was a favorite topic of the gossipy girls in the bathroom, many hoping he might ask them to the Fall Social. This reputation had initially led Ruth to cast him in the role of 1980s jock-jerk in her mind. This turned out to be entirely unfair, because after only a few minutes, Ruth realized Tyler was funny, friendly, and a little shy.

“All right, class. Let’s come to order. We have a lot of gross stuff to get through today!” exclaimed their eccentric biology teacher, Mr. Zahn.

The rest of the period went by in a flurry of note-taking and questions about an upcoming project on human organs.

“This is a partner project, so I’m trusting you to buddy up on your own.”

The class broke out in whispers, students casting meaningful looks at potential partners.

Ruth winced. A partner project? Who thought letting judgmental teens sort themselves into pairs was a good idea? Maybe there would be an odd number and she could work alone. It wouldn’t be ideal, as biology didn’t come easily to her but—

“Do you wanna be partners?”

Ruth swallowed a yelp. She had forgotten Tyler was sitting next to her once class had started.

“Oh! Sure, that would be great. But I should warn you, science isn’t my strong suit,” Ruth admitted.

“That’s cool. I’m actually pretty good with science. But you’re a killer writer. I really liked the story you read for English. How about I run the numbers and you can make sure it sounds good in the paper?”

Touched that he remembered her story, she agreed to his plan with a shy smile. Over her shoulder, Ruth spied a few dejected girls shooting glares at her. Tyler suggested they meet after school on Monday to discuss their assigned organ, the kidney.

“See you later, Ruth. Have a nice weekend!” Tyler called out before jogging to join a traveling pack of basketball players. Ruth waved goodbye before smartly avoiding the popular girls who seemed to be zeroing in on her, dashing out the door to meet Ben.

Oak Bluff High School was located at the bottom of Lorewood, a twenty-minute walk from Ruth’s house. Ben and Sarah lived two streets away from her, but as Sarah had sports after school, Ben and Ruth walked home together most days.

The weather had taken a turn in the past few weeks. Gone were balmy summer days, replaced with crisp cool air and crunching leaves. The color palette had changed from lush greens to muted reds, oranges, and browns. The town center was alive with activity as it got ready for its favorite holiday.

As the pair walked up Main Street, they passed shopkeepers hanging skeletons, florists building ornate autumnal bouquets, and a talented mechanic painting horror movie icons on his shop’s windows. The library had changed their front display to look like a vampire’s crypt, complete with all the best horror fiction. The town hall, the centerpiece of Lorewood, stood tall and imposing, the festive bunting and string lights coming from the bell tower, stretching over the town square like a spider web, the stately steps to the red doors stacked with pumpkins, hay bales, and sunflowers.

“Why is Halloween such a big deal here?” asked Ruth. She was watching a bag boy from the local market wrestle with a large inflatable tombstone he was setting up.

“It’s always been that way. I mean, this is New England. The fall leaves, old houses and creepy history add to the atmosphere. Plus, all the witch stuff.” Ben had pulled out his cellphone to snap a pic of an impressive window display of ornate candles.

“Witch stuff?” asked Ruth.

“Sorry. I keep forgetting you didn’t grow up in Lorewood—it feels like you have always been here,” and Ben wiggled his fingers spookily at her which Ruth playfully shoved away. “Anyways, you know about the Salem Witch Trials, yeah?”

Ruth nodded.

“Well, that witch hysteria wasn’t just happening in Salem. Massachusetts is full of stories of witch burnings and hangings—and Lorewood is no exception. We have The Wax Witch.”

“The Wax Witch?” Ruth repeated, raising a brow.

“Yup. The story goes that this old hag of a witch lived deep in the heart of Walker’s Woods—”

“Wait. Do you mean the woods directly behind my house?” Ruth asked, her voice spiking.

“That’s the one! Lucky you, huh? Apparently, this witch would kidnap children from town on full moons and render their bodies into candles for her spells—hence ‘Wax’ Witch. She was finally stopped when the townspeople rallied together to burn her shack down with her in it. On Halloween, no less. We were told in elementary that the town celebrates Halloween not only to observe the ancient holiday but to celebrate the day the children of Lorewood were safe. That’s why they erect and burn a big witch scarecrow in the town square on Halloween night.”

Ruth glanced at the empty pit being assembled by a group of volunteers.

“Oh my God, last year Sophie Barns stood too close and burned her eyebrows off. She looked shocked for months!” Ben cackled. They passed an elderly couple pulling a wagon full of bright orange pumpkins, the teens smiling politely.

“When did the witch story take place?” Ruth asked, swinging her head both ways before they crossed the street.

“Like late 1700s, I think? The town was pretty dinky back then.”

“And you really believe she was a witch?”

Ben winced.

“Honestly? No. I would be shocked if the story were actually true. Chances are some old woman’s house burned down and the townspeople started the witch tale to scare kids. I heard that there are ruins in the center of the woods, probably a rotted hunting cabin.” Ben showed her the photo he had taken. “The ‘wax’ part is probably because of the special breed of bayberry that grows here. It means we’re famous for candles. That’s why it always smells so good.” Ben shrugged, cocking a smile. “The witch stuff is just local color, but it’s fun. Especially this year.”

“Why this year?”

“It’s the first time in like, twenty years there will be a full moon on Halloween—on a Saturday! That’s why the mayor is pulling out all the stops on the decorations. I think she wants to make this town like Salem and cash in on tourism. Carla said the mayor hired professional photographers and everything.”

Carla was the sheriff of Lorewood and Sarah’s mom. She was a much-beloved staple, respected for her caring and honest nature. Ruth liked that she got to hear juicy town gossip that Sarah would overhear from her mom.

Ruth spied the aforementioned mayor under the gazebo in the center of the square, alongside people in construction hats, gesturing to various areas of the town. The imposing woman stood out among the construction workers in her lime-green power suit.

“So why don’t you like Halloween?” asked Ben, nudging her arm.

Ruth paused for a moment, twisting her lips to the side. She sighed.

“I used to love it—it’s just—Halloween was always Annie’s thing. And now, I dunno. It’s weird without her.”

Ben’s face shifted, mischievous eyes turning sincere.

“Oh Jeeze, I’m sorry, Ru. I totally get that. If you want, we can tell Sarah to forget about the costume thing—you don’t have to…”

Ruth shook her head, stretching her cheeks with a forced smile.

“No, it’s fine. I need to get past this. And who knows? Maybe your witch will ignite the Halloween spirit again.”

“Better your spirit than your eyebrows.”

***

Ruth waved goodbye to Ben as she mounted the steps to her porch, watching him pop his headphones over his ears.

The house her parents had bought last year was large, as were most of the houses in town. It was made in the traditional New England Gothic style, with dark gray shingles contrasted with crimson trim and shutters. Ruth liked it. It made her think of the houses in her favorite horror novels.

Dropping her bag at the door and kicking off her shoes, she made her way to the kitchen, pausing to adjust the fall floral arrangement next to a photo of a smiling teenage girl.

Ruth’s family had moved to Lorewood, Massachusetts, ten months ago from upstate New York. Ruth’s mother had moved her dental practice after she got a good deal on an office in town from a retiring dentist. Ruth’s dad, a part-time technical book editor, worked from home and spent his free time testing out new and increasingly bizarre recipes on his daughters.

Most thirteen-year-old girls would have been horrified to leave their school and friends to move to another state. While Ruth had been sad to say goodbye to her small pack of friends, she had to admit it was nice not to be followed by pitying eyes anymore.

It had been almost three years since Ruth’s older sister Annie had passed away from cancer. Her late sister had been a star in their old town, everyone knew her, everyone loved her. It was a blow to her whole community when she died. Coupled with the grief of losing a beloved sister, Ruth and her younger sister Gabby couldn’t go a day without someone giving them condolences or talking about Annie.

But this was a new town, a new school, where no one knew about Annie, about the pain her family carried.

They could all start fresh.

And so far, it had worked out. Ruth had met Ben at her mom’s office. He had needed to get emergency work done on his braces. They had bonded over the fantasy novel Ruth was reading in the waiting room. This led to Ben introducing his stepsister Sarah, who clicked with Ruth almost as fast as himself. Before long the trio was inseparable. They knew about Annie, of course, as Ruth could hardly explain away the photos in her house. Thankfully, they kept it to themselves, respecting Ruth’s privacy and feelings.

One of the many reasons she loved them.

Ruth continued through to the kitchen. Her father was at the counter squinting at his tablet while kneading dough—or something dough-ish.

“What is that?” Ruth asked, caution lacing her words as she eyed the pale goo on the countertop.

“A sourdough focaccia bread… does this look like what the guy is doing in the video?”

Ruth peered at the bearded man on screen and then at the mess covering her dad’s hands, arms and smartwatch.

“A little? Yours looks sorta…runny.”

Her dad sighed.

“Yeah, I thought that too. I assumed I could substitute coconut oil…anyways, how was school, kiddo?”

Ruth climbed onto a stool, lifting the glass lid off a plate of cookies.

“It was good; I have a new biology project with a partner—did you make these?”

“Store-bought, you’re safe,” he replied before adding more flour to his creation. Ruth finished her cookie and told him about the rest of her day.

“So, this Tyler boy seems nice,” said her dad. He sprinkled capers onto the pile of goo, missing the face Ruth pulled at the smell.

“He is, surprisingly. Guess he missed the memo that popular kids need to be jerks.”

“Hey. Not all popular kids—actually as a former nerd myself, I suppose a lot of them were.”

Ruth’s mouth dropped, an insulted hand coming to her chest.

“Did you just indirectly call your child a nerd?”

“Huh, yeah, I guess I did. Will you get the tomatoes out of the fridge, Nerd?”

***

Ruth climbed the stairs after dinner with her sister. Their mother was in the kitchen showing their dad the collection of spooky candles she had picked up from a souvenir stall in the town square.

“Did you eat your focaccia?” whispered Gabby when they reached the first landing.

“Hid it in my napkin after two bites. You?”

“Bite and a half. It was so salty—and what happened to those tomatoes? They were like raisins.”

“Definitely not his best effort,” agreed Ruth.

Gabby stopped at her bedroom door, tightening her honey blonde ponytail.

“Oh, do you still have that old ripped jean jacket?”

Ruth furrowed her brow, searching her memory.

“Maybe? I think it’s packed in the attic somewhere. Why?”

“I wanted it for my costume. I’m going as an 80s Zombie—like a zombie that died in the 80s. Mom lent me a pair of her leg warmers and a T-shirt for a band called Duran Duran.”

The mental image made Ruth snort a laugh.

“That’s…unique, Gabs. I’ll have a look for it this weekend.”

“Thanks, RuRu. I gotta jump on a three-way call with Amber and Olivia. We are planning our route for Halloween.”

Ruth turned to head up to her room. Stopping on the landing she called her sister back. “Just so you know, I am gonna try to be better this Halloween—less grumpy. Ben and Sarah are even getting me to dress up.”

The ten-year-old’s face split with a large, toothy smile.

“Really? Yay! That’s awesome! This town takes Halloween really seriously. It’s so cool. Amber says this year is gonna be one for the history books.”

“Here’s hoping, Gabs. Night,” and Ruth mounted the next flight of stairs.

***

Ruth’s bedroom was definitely her favorite part of the house. It was a gabled space with a huge circular window overlooking the woods. Her mother had hung vintage Christmas lights, and her father had built two new bookcases to hold her ever-growing collection.

Books had always been a safe space for Ruth. No matter what life had thrown at her, and it had thrown a lot, she could count on the serenity of her personal library. Fantasy, sci-fi, horror, modern fiction, romance, graphic novels—the voracious reader didn’t discriminate. As any book could become a favorite, Ruth often just picked tomes at random from discount bins.

Ruth located the novel she was currently reading under her bed, it having slipped off her sheets as she had dozed off the night before. As she stood up, she glanced out the window that overlooked the woods. Normally she could see fairly far into the trees under the moonlight—but tonight the wall of bark and branches had become a void of oblivion. With no moon, Ruth could only make out a few trees on the edge of her lawn. She pressed her face to the glass, cupping her eyes in search of any light, condensation clouding her view.

“Wax Witch, huh?”

Backing away, she stretched and made her way to her squishy bed, adjusting her reading lamp, getting ready to settle into an adventure on the high seas already in progress.

Soon she was lost in the pages, unaware that a faint light had ignited deep in the woods. The tiny glow moved through the trees beyond her window, tracing a steady path toward town.

Chapter One
The Werewolf and The Princess

Chapter Two
The Wax Witch

The Curse of The Wax Witch
A Halloween Tale

31.07.29