The Christmas Witch

        Hollin the witch levitated over the small town of Maplegrove, staring down in curiosity at the small little 1-story houses with their burnt-toast colored roofs. She observed a moment longer and then descended, her boots landing softly in the snow with a wet crunching sound. A cold wind blew past, and she shivered, feeling slightly underdressed in her thin robe. She was beginning to regret not wearing something warmer.

        After digging around in her bag and failing to find her flame feather, Hollin gave up and approached the first house, stealthily opening the door and then stepping inside, closing the door behind her. She glanced around, noticing there wasn’t much in the house.

Searching for a tree, she eventually found a small, wilting sapling in the corner of what she assumed was the living room, alongside what once might have been a sofa. She frowned as she observed the room, pulling out her staff and waving it around a bit until it started glowing green, and then pointed it at the tree until it perked up and grew to three times its original size. After it was the correct scale, she strung fairy lights all over it and then topped it off with a shining golden star, illuminating the drab, tiny room around it.

        Hollin stepped back, admiring her handiwork, then remembered why she was there. She had just finished laying down all the presents and stood when she heard a voice behind her. She turned around and saw a young boy wearing a singular, filthy rag staring at her, and Hollin’s heart broke into a million pieces. The boy cleared his throat and inquired in a small voice: “Santa? Is that…you?” Hollin smiled and said brightly, “Yeah, that’s me; merry Christmas!”