The Witch and the Hunter

The theatre is more than a place of entertainment. It is where stories come to life and where emotions fly around the stage in bursts of passion. Whether this is a calming experience, or a thrilling experience is all up to personal preference.

The Witch is in this theatre now. She is watching the performance, leaning relaxed into her seat. She is allowing her emotions to match the performers’; letting herself experience a life unlike her own.

It was near the end of this performance when she felt a presence sitting next to her. Without looking, she can tell it is the Hunter, her best friend.

With no one else in the audience and the lights blinding the actors’ eyes, they might as well be alone.

Instead of speaking over the performance, the Hunter hands her a note. With a weary glance, the Witch looks at the note in her hand. It reads: ‘You lied to me.’

In response, she holds out her hand. He gives her a confused look which she rolls her eyes at. She mimes writing, using the paper to demonstrate. The Hunter’s eyes open wide, and he scrambles to find a pen on his person.

While waiting, the Witch closes her eyes and listens to the play. She lets the emotions roll over her own, but unlike before, she can feel the effect waning. Rather than the wondrous emotions of life between two friends, she can feel it is tinged with something sour: so sour, she can almost taste it on her tongue.

Flames glow behind her eyes.

She opens her eyes and sees him about to poke her shoulder, pen in hand. A little startled, he pulls back and pushes the pen towards her. She takes the pen and quickly scribbles something on the back of the note.

‘You gave me no choice.’

He looks up from the note and stares at the side of her face. She isn’t watching for his reaction. She is just watching the performance with a passive interest, eyes glazed, and lips pursed. The Hunter remembers the other week when her face lit up with innocent excitement. Looking at her face now, he would think that even that excitement, which he used to look forward to every day, was a lie as well.

The Witch and the Hunter. He wonders why she would befriend him if this was her true self. If he didn’t accidentally stumble into her performing a ritual, she would have lied to him for the rest of their lives.

Before he gets further into his thoughts, she suddenly lifts her hand from her lap and lightly turns his head towards the stage. The heat from her fingers linger on his cheek.

He watches the play as she wishes, where an actor is under a single spotlight. He doesn’t know what this play is about; it isn’t one she has shown him before. The actor is giving a passionate monologue. Something about the doubts and understandings of life, a prelude to a better ending. But no matter how much passion, how much depth, or how much emotion they portray, they will always be just words to him. Words that he doesn’t understand or have the mind to interpret. That was what his friend was for.

He remembers when they first met, and she took him to the theatre. It was a completely different experience from his ordinary life. Like a fairy tale amongst the harshness his reality brought him. The theatre to him was drab and lifeless, filled with people spouting empty words and empty promises. But when he was with her, it all changed. The world of theatre was suddenly brought to life, and he could see the beauty the world had to offer.

He opens his mouth to speak but she turns towards him and puts her finger to her lips.

He closes his mouth and stares at her. To him, the Witch was more fascinating than the play. Surrounded by the lighting from the stage and the darkness protruding behind her, she looks like a dark angel, born into this world to shine.

‘Witchcraft could be considered a type of art, right?’ He wonders.

A white light suddenly fills his vision, blinding him for a moment. The Witch starts clapping for the actors and the Hunter scrambles to follow her leads.

Now that the play was over, he felt his time with her coming to an end. However, he doesn’t want to let her go.

As someone on stage gives a speech, the Hunter stands from his seat and reaches out a hand to her.

The Witch looks at the Hunter and his outstretched hand. This is her last chance to escape. To leave this life and go on the run. She understands how heavy this decision is for him. His whole life is witch hunting, has been his entire life.

She reaches out for his hand and turns his palm facing down. Still sitting, she looks him in the eyes and smiles at him. She lightly kisses the back of his hand and lets go. She will face the pyre tomorrow. Her Witch Hunter has found her, and she is done hiding.

When she let go of his hand, the Hunter felt breathless. He stands still for a moment, memorising her face one last time. Then, he walks out the door.

The Witch doesn’t watch him leave.

And the Hunter doesn’t look back.