“Is it meant to be like that or has it had an accident?” asked Perry.
“Does it move?” asked Ray.
All of them were looking at the pile of building in front of them.
“It’s supposed to be a house, silly.” That was Charene, younger than the others.
“That might not be smoke from a fireplace, it could be smoke from an engine,” pointed out Ray.
“But wouldn’t something that moves on purpose be more…intact?” Bribie’s curiosity was probably the strongest. “Besides, if it moves it could be a house that belongs to a witch, like Baba Yaga.”
“It can’t be Baba Yaga,” retorted Charlene, “it doesn’t have legs or feet.”
“We could find a door and knock,” suggested Perry.
“And run away if it’s a witch,” agreed Charlene.
I felt it was time to intervene and I stepped out of the shadows behind them. “If it was a witch’s house,” I said firmly, “You’d be scooped up and in her oven by now, you’ve been hanging around so long.”
They turned around in shock.
“Fortunately, I ‘m not a witch. Now run along home!” The children took my advice and fled. I turned my attention back to the ramshackle, rolled up house.
After all, I had to figure out how to get rid of the witch inside it.