In Cowl Creek Ms. Cutler's yard is where the older kids threatened to banish younger kids if they didn't share their best lunch items. That house was where two teenagers entered and supposedly vanished during the 70s. Only the most daring pranksters dared toilet paper the place come Halloween.
That was because Ms. Rosie Cutler was a witch.
She sat on the front porch and knitted all the long day. Her yard was filled with 4 generations of cast off household fixtures and an even more venerable tradition of dandelions. The house looked like it should have fallen over a century ago but, by some mysterious power, was still holding together.
Obviously, Ms. Cutler was a witch.
One Thursday, instead of being occupied by Ms. Cutler, the only thing on the porch was a pile of knitted goods, old lady affects, and yarn. This seemed within the realm of the believable except that Ms. Cutler had supposedly occupied the porch every afternoon except Sunday for over 230 years. Supposedly. To have her absent was construed as a bad omen, great luck, a reason to plant tomatoes early next spring, and any other urban nonsense that could be offered around the gas pump at Nobi's Station that afternoon. Word spread all over the county like a conjured plague of locust and by the time school got out the kids had gathered around the hedge outside her property to gaze at the absence of Ms. Cutler.
But the witch hadn't left.
As the fine folk of Cowl Creek gazed on, it was Jenny Franklin, a first grader from Carver Elementary, who pointed out that "That pile on Ms. Cutler's porch looks like one of the cocoons from our science project."
Heads nodded and m-hmmms were voiced as the realization took hold of the crowd. Jenny added that "Over many months metamamorphafis is probably happening inside that cocoon."
The yarn cocoon wiggled slightly and a raven cawed in the distance.