The Corn Witch
Ready for a little Quality time with the Corn Witch?? 10.27.18
The hour was just past midnight. The full moon was past its zenith, intermittently casting a pale glow across the corn field on either side of the narrow road as the clouds flitted across its face.
The carriage came to a halt, raising a cloud of dust. The horses were agitated and the driver felt a need to calm them before they headed down the long hill into London.
The coach was full, mostly lords and ladies and their children returning from Cornwall. It had been a long journey and they were anxious to get home.
There was an eerie looking fog, almost purple in colour reminiscent of bruised violets, drifting long tendrils from out of the corn field. It seemed to be reaching for something, covering the road in front of the horses. Their ears were back, nostrils flaring, champing at their bits and stomping the ground. The driver was on the ground doing his best to calm his team.
There was a rustle to the right of the coach in the corn; a number of crows took flight suddenly startling the footman at the rear of the carriage.
Something in the corn had disturbed the crows. He could just see something moving around under the pale moon light.
He grabbed the lantern, placing it on a long pole and swung it out over the corn field in an attempt to see what was moving about among the tall corn stalks.
As the light from his lantern cast its glow on the corn stalks the moon suddenly broke free of the drifting clouds to reveal an old woman standing in the corn, she was bent, with a pronounced hump on her back. She had long gray hair, flowing robes and a large hook nose jutting out from under her hood. In her right hand she had a wooden staff.
She slowly raised her bony hand to point at the carriage, a smile crossing her lips. Her eyes were hidden within the shadow of her hooded brow but the footman sensed a foreboding within them that sent a chill up his spine.
The horses reared in panic, the footman looked to the driver who had just retaken his seat. The horses were about to bolt. He took one more look in the field as the moon was disappearing behind the clouds; the woman was nowhere to be seen.
The carriage surged forward nearly costing the footman his precarious perch on the rear of the coach. He struggled to retain control of the lamp as the carriage began to pick up speed towards the long hill to London. Crows broke out of the field on both sides keeping apace momentarily with the coach before breaking formation and disappearing into the night air with a flutter of wings; cawing and screeching in the dark.
Just as the carriage broke through the strange looking fog, the footman swore he heard a cackling laugh echoing through the corn fields, he could not bring himself to look back as the team raced over the crest of the last hill and out of sight.
Written by: Steve Fryer
Photography/editing by: Visions of Heaphen
Make up by Nina McAviney ElectroFX
Prosthetic by
Woochie FX
The Corn Witch is
Nikki Fenske
Creative Director Laurence Fenske