The Witch in the Tree -Lasker Hadiul Islam

The tree was ancient, older than the oldest tale the dwellers could remember. Its roots ran deep like veins in the earth and branches touched the clouds. To any passerby, it looked like a gift of heaven – rich with fruits, shade, flowers, and honey. There, in the heart of the tree, lived a witch. The witch lived on drinking blood of the dwellers that lived under the tree. There also lived a crow in the same tree. The crow was not an ordinary bird. He was black as soot and sly as thief. He perched on the tree as the witch’s closest ally. While the witch drained life of the dwellers, he plundered their wealth. He swooped down upon homes, snatched ornaments, grains, or anything he could steal and carried the treasures back to the witch. In return, he received a share of the spoils and the safety of her dark protection.

The dwellers had less right to enjoy any of the blessings of the tree. They could neither consume any fruits nor lie down under the shadow of the tree to take rest. When the flowers bloomed in the tree, the witch alone smelt the sweet scent or the bee made hive and stored honey, she alone devoured all. When the birds nested in the tree and sang, the witch plucked pleasure of the tweet stretching her limbs and legs, swinging sitting on the highest branches of the tree.

But the crow’s role was more than theft – he was the witch’s eyes and ears. With sharp vision, he spied on the dwellers – listening to their whispers, watching their movements and reporting every sign of unrest. If a dweller dared to question the witch’s power, the crow’s cry carried the news to the witch, and the soul soon vanished without a trace.

The dwellers were not happy for the presence of the witch whether she was in the tree or under the tree. They suffered this problem for years. Whenever someone spoke out against the witch, they had to suffer the witch’s anger severely. Days passed away but none knew what happened to the fate of the wretched one. Sometimes, many a day later, the truth about the witch’s savagery came into light when they found some bones and skulls of the wretched one scattered under the tree. But no one dared to speak against the witch’s will.

Day after day, the witch was strengthening herself to stay on the tree forever. She thought that the tree was her own property inherited from her ancestors. She recruited all her mischief to extend her spell over the dwellers. She showed the dwellers terror now and then to sustain her spell over them.

The dwellers wanted to get rid of this problem. Some of the brave young ones called for a meeting at one of the oldest roots of the tree. They discussed every prose and corns and came to the conclusion that they would drive out the witch from the tree. The crow heard them all sitting on a high branch. The sly bird flew straight to the witch and cawed loudly, “Dear mistress, I have had news for you! Some young ones of the dwellers are planning to drive you away. If you do not punish them now, they may succeed.”

The witch’s eyes burnt red like fire. She shouted in anger, “How dare they! Do they think they can defeat me? I am the owner of this tree and no one can take it away from me. I’ll curse them with pain and hunger.”

That night the witch spread her dark magic. The flowers of the tree stopped blooming, the fruits turned bitter, and the sweet fragrance vanished. The children could no longer play under the tree because of the foul smell. The dwellers became even more unhappy.

The next morning, the dare-heart, the young ones gathered again. One of them, a brave rabbit, spoke in a strong voice, “We cannot live like this any longer. If we stay silent, our future will be destroyed. The witch will make our lives worse. We must discover a way to defeat her.”

“But how?” asked a clever squirrel. “She has powerful magic and the crow spies on us. Whatever we plan, he carries to her.”

The rabbit replied, “Then we must plan more wisely. Listen, every dark power has a weakness. The witch is afraid of herself. She never dares to look into clear water because she sees her own ugly face. If we make her see her reflection, her power will be broken.”

The dwellers agreed. They collected pieces of shiny metals, broken glass and smooth stones from the river. They fixed them around the roots and branches of the tree. The work was done very secretly at night while the crow was away visiting his other friends.

The next morning, when the witch came down to drink blood, the sunlight fell on the mirrors. Suddenly the witch noticed her reflection all around – on the ground, on the tree and even on the leaves. The witch shrieked, “No! Take it away! I cannot bear to see myself!”

She tried to cover her eyes, but everywhere she turned, her own hideous face stared back. The dwellers who were hiding nearby rushed forward with courage. The rabbit shouted, “Now is the time! Do not fear her anymore. The dwellers – deer, lizards, spiders and all classes of animals living there joined hands and began to chant prayers and sang songs of hope. Their voice grew louder and louder. The power of unity filled the air and the witch grew weaker. Her red eyes turned pale, and her dark figure started to melt like smoke. At last, with a loud cry, she disappeared forever. The crow, seeing his mistress gone, hid himself in an unknown place and fled away to another country when time suited him.

The crow was banished and the tree bloomed once more with flowers and filled with fruits. The dwellers sang in joy:

“Unity is strength,

Together we go any length.

Truth shines bright and will prevail,

Evil is weak, it’s bound to fail.”

Generations later, animals still told the story of the witch in the tree. They told their young ones, “Never fear the wicked, but always stand together. Unity will grow you strength and truth will bring you victory,”