The Witch's Other Daughter: By Michael Cho

The witch labored long into the night in a strange town, attended by two midwives, who, exhausted themselves, took shifts. They knew she was a witch because she had one eye of blue and one eye of black.

"The blue is her Christian soul," whispered Rebecca, not yet seventeen summers, "the black is the mark of the Devil!"

Ann, in the winter of her years on Earth, nodded peaceably and pulled the covers up to her wattled neck. "I'll be getting some shut-eye, child; wake me in an hour."

Rebecca sat by the witch's side, holding her hand in the candlelight. God had blessed the poor woman with a moment of rest in the midst of her pain. But then her face crumpled, her hand clenched.

"Madam?" She leaned forward.

"Another contraction!" the witch breathed through clenched teeth. Her wavy black hair was plastered on her forehead. Rebecca helped her blow raspberries and spoke sweetly to her, which did seem to help.

"I... It's coming, it's coming!" shouted the witch. In a flash old Ann was on the other side of the bed, talking her through it. It was time. In scant minutes, a blond, blue-eyed, wailing baby had crossed over into this world. The witch held her to her breast with tears running down her face. And then she slept like the dead.

"What a night!" cried Ann, leaning back in her chair with a tired smile.

"Are they--they often like this?" asked Rebecca, speaking carefully.

"No, child, heaven's no. Why, it's almost dawn and she started laboring three hours past noon."

Rebecca nodded with wide eyes. The witch cried out and her body convulsed, almost pitching the baby from her breast.

"She's trying to push out the placenta, I suppose," said Ann concernedly. The woman was still asleep. Unconscious. She lifted the witch's dress and felt between her legs, then uttered a curse Rebecca had never heard.

"Is something wrong?"

"There's another baby in here--I can feel her head! Twins!" Ann had tossed off her fatigue like a coat and was on her knees, probing and pushing.

"She's not waking," said Rebecca, feeling panic. "What shall we do?"

"We'll have to help it come along."

They put the screaming baby in a basinet and rearranged the witch's distressingly limp body to get better access. They turned her on her belly and used some pillows to get her rump in the air. Ann squeezed one hand, then another, deep inside her, made some faces, and yanked.

"Stuck..." she muttered. Rebecca stood frozen, but her mind raced like a decapitated chicken.

"Urmf!" There was a wet sound and Ann's eyes widened comically. "Okay, here goes."

She rearranged her grip and pulled some more. A crimson head, then shoulders, then limp body emerged. The umbilical cord was around its neck. She freed it, snipped it off, began to pat the baby on its back.

"Is it--?" Rebecca cut herself off at the look on Ann's face.

"See to the mother," barked Ann.

Rebecca gratefully turned to the witch. With the strength in her young legs, she gently rolled her over and covered her with a blanket. She touched her clammy forehead. Expecting the worst, she put a glass in front of her slack mouth. Yet it steamed up nicely. The first baby had stopped crying and now only mewled; it seemed fine. Now another wail with a distinct voice from the first began. Rebecca felt a warm shot of elation and relief. Ann was smiling painfully.

"She's fine, fine."

The second baby was just as well-formed as the first, and both were exceptional in that regard. This one had shiny black eyes like little buttons. They did not really look like newborns. It came to Rebecca that this must be the Devil-child, but she put the thought from her. It was none of her business.

Ann rested her bones for but a minute. "Child, stay with the little darlings. I must go to the doctor."

"But Ann--!"

"He won't come on your say-so, child. It must be me. I go."

* * * * *

The baby with black eyes had fallen into a fitful sleep without nursing; and though not actually hungry, she did instinctively desire the comfort of her mother's breast. For now, she would have to make do with sharing the basinet with another baby. She awoke at some point to see brilliant blue eyes regarding her from across a rumpled blanket. Then the other baby began to move. It arched its back, threw its weight forward. Tiny soft fingers tickled at Blackie's ankle, then grabbed it and pulled strongly. She giggled at the sensation. Blue's head now fell beside her, making her giggle again. Blue was moving her legs, and owing to their flexibility, managed to get them under her. She now crawled her chubby hands up Blackie's side and, finding a firm spot, began to push. Blackie felt herself rolling over.

Blue rolled her over onto her front. She could not see anything here with her nose in an old blanket. But it was interesting.

Making only little grunts of effort, Blue scrabbled for better purchase with her feet. Once she had it, she extended her whole body, and rolled Blackie into the side of basinet. Soon she had her teetering on the shallow edge.

Blackie felt a twinge of unease at the prospect of being pushed out of the basinet. She did not know that it was several feet's fall to a hard wood floor, but yet knew she did not want it to occur. Thus, she grabbed the edge with the toes of her flexible right foot, and getting a hold, turned her body so that she looked down her front straight into Blue's big, beautiful eyes. Blue blinked at the change of plans, but gamely grabbed Blackie's left ankle to finish the job with a shove. Then Blackie slammed her right foot into Blue's nose.

Blue's hands clumsily went to her face, which let Blackie slip down into safety. She let Blue have another hard kick which sent her rolling over to the other side of the basinet.

Blackie looked at the other baby, which had quickly assumed a more defensible position. Blackie recalled dim nightmares of being kicked, scratched, and nearly strangled in some long-lost, long-forgotten, watery place, and she instinctively, and correctly, linked them with the other baby. Therefore she did not regard her kindly. It occured to her that she could just as well leave the basinet and make her way on her own.

While making small puffing sounds, she investigated her vicinity. They seemed to be placed on an elevated platform. There was a single light in the room. A large, lumpy shape, mostly covered by a blanket, sat in a chair. Another shape, also enormous, lay on a bed; wavy black hair spilled out behind it. A person, she supposed. How to get from the basinet?

She raised herself to a crouch and looked over the edge. It was very far, and made her afraid. Yet it was the only way. She grabbed her side of the blanket and began to yank on it. She had managed to mass more than half of it on her side before Blue, grimacing angrily, seized her end and yanked back. Blackie tossed her side of the blanket over the edge, raised herself to her knees, and pulled harder. That made Blue ever more determined. She heaved herself onto her side, holding it down with her weight, gripped it with her teeth, and doggedly pulled. Blackie put a leg over the edge, and with its leverage managed to gain a few inches on Blue. But Blue would have none of that, she rolled her body toward Blackie, tangled herself up in what remained to her. Blue would yield no more of the blanket.

Seeing this, Blackie was satisfied, and eased her other leg over the edge. With her fat, but very strong hands, she lowered herself down until she clung on to the rim of the basinet, and then seized the blanket to descend hand over hand. When Blue realized what was happening, she spit out the blanket loudly, tried to wriggle out, but it was too late. Blackie gained the floorboards and all tension went out of the blanket.

She had fallen onto her back, but rolled to her stomach and then managed a sit. Wobbling, hands held ready, she looked around her. It was a world made of a hard wooden surface and thick cylindrical objects rising into infinity. It was also an enclosed world, with the exception of a horizontal crack showing very dim light. She tottered forward and used her limbs on the floorboards to go that way, pulling and pushing depending on what her extremities touched. Within a few feet of movement, her crawling instinct established itself, and, still making soft puffing sounds, she crawled to the crack.

When she got there, she leveraged herself back to a sit. She placed her hands forward on the wall, which gave with her weight. The door opened outwards, she lost her balance and threw her arms out in a moro reflex, and splatted onto her face. Her first instinct was to squeeze her eyes shut, open her mouth to the size of half her face, and let out a great wail. But she inhibited that. A weird feeling was in her mouth--dirt. Little hard things pressed into her flesh--pebbles. The light here had a different quality to it. And there were sounds here.

She got to a sitting position again, now being an old hand at it, and crawled to an out-of-the-way place. Her world had expanded incredibly, and prodigious streams of information coursed into her from her wide open black eyes, tiny button nose, ears, and flesh. Giant shapes rose all around her. She simply could not make sense of what her eyes could take in. Again she stifled the urge to cry piteously.

Then she heard a soft, melodious sound, wonderful to her ears. It was a tall, huge thing, with a face, eyes and long gleaming braided black hair. It carried two sloshing things, one with each hand, walked past her in the semi-darkness, splashing her, and dropped the things with a thump next to the door she had just exited. The pretty thing looked cautiously at the door, and closed it softly with two hands. Then the thing disappeared into a giant wooden thing; presently it returned with more pails and sloshed somewhere else.

Blackie felt a warm liquid that had pooled in the fold of her elbow. She touched it with a finger and brought it to her mouth. Milk! Warmth and love rocked her tiny body. How she would like some more! Where was the beautiful giantess that had provided it to her? She pounced back on hands and knees and crawled painfully across the ground to the giant wooden thing. When she had reached the place the giantess had gone, she saw only a great darkness. That was where she would have to go.

The giantess had stepped on a wooden board suspended midway between the darkness and the ground. She crawled toward it. By raising herself on her rump, then reaching with every bit of stretch, she could just touch the rough wood. Could she get her fingers around it? She could. She pulled, pulled, her body rose from the ground. With her other hand she grabbed the ledge; she pulled more--and fell back into space. First her rump hit the hard ground, then the back of her head slammed into the road. She wadded up her face and cried--but cut it off quickly.

She sniffled and opened her eyes, instinctively cautious. She would just have to try again.

She sat, reached, got a handhold. Pulled with that hand--something sharp and painful penetrated her soft skin, a splinter--lifted herself, got a grip with the other hand. With all her strength she pulled herself almost to a standing position. But now what could she do? She was not strong enough to lift her heavy body onto the step. Her legs crumpled and she sat heavily.

Now she was breathing hard with exertion, although stealthily--only a little drool in the breath made noise at all. Experience had shown her it was good to get the lay of the land. Looking around, she saw something which made her marble-sized heart leap. She crawled from the step to an immense, round, wood and iron thing. Circular, it had many cylindrical rods that radiated from a central axis. Near the top of the thing was another ledge which possibly led to the dark area, and was much higher than the step she had failed to obtain.

She crawled to the side of the round thing. It was rough and loomed impossibly high before her. Yet the spokes looked to be close enough together that she could pull with her hands and push with her legs at the same time. There was no use in delaying. She threw herself forward and seized a spoke. Used it to pull herself near-upright. Reached her other arm higher to grab another one. Lifted a fat leg and gripped the first spoke with a nearly prehensile foot. It was just like crawling, but vertically, she thought. She pulled and pushed, and her body rose. She repeated the process. Now she was high, too high to fall, for the ground was hard. But she was tired. She wished she had more milk.

At this time, the light in the air had generally grown stronger, and she could perceive more noises around her--creaks, clanks, clomps, whinnies, voices calling out in the moist dawntime air.

She reached high above her head, grasped a spoke--and slipped. Both legs shot out from under her, and she felt a lightning flash of panic and falling--pain streaked up the arm that retained its grip--barely--on its spoke. She bicycled her legs madly until she found purchase. Her other hand grabbed its spoke, and so she clung.

The shoulder of the arm that had saved her now ached and didn't feel right. She was tired, and her bright mind felt dull. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, she sluggishly thought.

But in a moment, she began to move again. Reached up and made sure she had a better grip. Kicked one leg high, with her pliable hip sockets, and got a grip on that spoke. Lifted herself up. She had further to go. Finally a ray of light greeted her as her head rose above the level of the ledge. It was child's play to wriggle over the dirty and rough edge of the wheel onto the plank, get into crawling position, and circle around into the dark place.

When she got there, she saw it was like a room, but smelling strongly of milk. That made her smile; she could not suppress a giggle. There were many of the sloshing things with handles here arrayed on the floor. There was also a woven thing with a handle with a blanket in it. It looked to be the most comfortable place here. She crawled towards that. It was a bit of a drop from the ledge, but she managed it. There were blankets, and she tugged at them until she could pull them over herself to keep her warm. That was easily accomplished, all the more so, because she perceived that she shared this contained with a dozen round, soft, warm, sweet-smelling things.

Blackie dozed off, and slept like a baby.

* * * * *

Ann and a man--the doctor, were waking her up. Ann's face bore an extremely strained expression. Without letting those strangely intense eyes leave hers for a second, Ann said, "There, Rebecca, there. Now, the doctor's here, she's going to see our lady, and you just let me do all the talking. Just listen and learn, my dear, do you understand?"

"Uh--yeah..." She was discombobulated from being woken, and also from the stagey tone of Ann's voice.

"So, Dr. Jinks, as I was saying, the lady had a hard--a very hard--labor."

A weary contralto said, "That's really not necessary. I feel fine..."

"Well, I'm here. Might as well look. This your baby, eh? Beautiful. Doesn't even have that red, wrinkled look to it." Rebecca gathered herself and tried to look alive. The witch lay peacefully on the bed with her baby suckling contentedly, the baby's one gorgeous blue eye rolling around to look at each speaker in turn. Dr. Jinks' brown hair stood out in great tufts, as if he had not had time to pat it down. Ann looked ready to collapse, yet she still fixed her with that intense glare.

A sudden thought made her look at the witch, then swing her gaze to the basinet, and gasp. Ann half-opened her mouth.

"As I was saying," she said, too loudly, "when this beatiful baby was born, the lady fell into a well-deserved sleep. And then her body began to eject the placenta. And so she did, eject a placenta, and only a placenta. Nothing else, you see. That's when I came to get you, because I thought, I thought the poor lady might be worn out, might be hurting inside."

"I'm not."

The doctor harumphed. "We're the professionals, you should trust us."

"I don't want to be bled. I feel fine, we're both fine. Let me just settle up with you and we'll leave it there." "Settle up--I am insulted! I..." He continued on like this.

Rebecca's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. The other baby, the black-eyed one, was gone, gone, gone! But where? The witch had been unconscious when she had delivered it, so she did not know. No one knew except she and Ann. And now she would have to wait until later to find out what Ann had done with it.

* * * * *

Ann and a man--the doctor, were waking her up. Ann's face bore an extremely strained expression. Without letting those strangely intense eyes leave hers for a second, Ann said, "There, Rebecca, there. Now, the doctor's here, she's going to see our lady, and you just let me do all the talking. Just listen and learn, my dear, do you understand?"

"Uh--yeah..." She was discombobulated from being woken, and also from the stagey tone of Ann's voice.

"So, Dr. Jinks, as I was saying, the lady had a hard--a very hard--labor."

A weary contralto said, "That's really not necessary. I feel fine..."

"Well, I'm here. Might as well look. This your baby, eh? Beautiful. Doesn't even have that red, wrinkled look to it." Rebecca gathered herself and tried to look alive. The witch lay peacefully on the bed with her baby suckling contentedly, the baby's one gorgeous blue eye rolling around to look at each speaker in turn. Dr. Jinks' brown hair stood out in great tufts, as if he had not had time to pat it down. Ann looked ready to collapse, yet she still fixed her with that intense glare.

A sudden thought made her look at the witch, then swing her gaze to the basinet, and gasp. Ann half-opened her mouth.

"As I was saying," she said, too loudly, "when this beatiful baby was born, the lady fell into a well-deserved sleep. And then her body began to eject the placenta. And so she did, eject a placenta, and only a placenta. Nothing else, you see. That's when I came to get you, because I thought, I thought the poor lady might be worn out, might be hurting inside."

"I'm not."

The doctor harumphed. "We're the professionals, you should trust us."

"I don't want to be bled. I feel fine, we're both fine. Let me just settle up with you and we'll leave it there." "Settle up--I am insulted! I..." He continued on like this.

Rebecca's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. The other baby, the black-eyed one, was gone, gone, gone! But where? The witch had been unconscious when she had delivered it, so she did not know. No one knew except she and Ann. And now she would have to wait until later to find out what Ann had done with it.

* * * * *

Jill finished her deliveries and wheeled her cart up the lane to the farm. She parked the cart alongside the barn and led Smokey to his stall, rubbed him down, fed him. She returned to the cart to retrieve the basket of biscuits kind Mrs. Shewelby had baked her. The basket felt very heavy. Was there something else in there? She carried it to the kitchen and placed it on the table. Before attending to the biscuits, she would pour herself a glass of fresh milk.

Now she pushed back the cloth and gasped. Sleeping peacefully among the biscuits was a gorgeous, tiny baby! She could not help cooing at it and touching its arm, its thigh--surely the softest thing in the entire world. It awoke to her ministrations.

"A little baby! What are you doing here, my sweet? Here in the biscuits?"

The baby favored her with a sunshiney, heart-melting smile. Jill melted.

Where, indeed, had she come from? When Mrs. Shewelby had handed her the basket, it had only contained biscuits. She had put it in her wagon and continued her deliveries. At some point, some mother, some desperate mother, had put her baby in a warm basket and hoped it would find its way in the world. A tear ran down her cheek, which she immediately dabbed.

"Little baby..." Jill picked up the baby, and it immediately molded itself to her form, as if born to do so. It looked up at her with brilliant black merry eyes.

"Baby, baby. Who gave you to me? I can't take you. I can't take you."

The baby made soft puffing sounds. Its smile faded somewhat, and it began look slightly fearful. It broke Jill's heart. Jill sat down next to the table. She arranged the baby so that it was more upright. One soft, soft hand caressed her nose and lips.

"How can I not take you, baby?"

The baby looked trustingly into her eyes.

"But I have no milk. I am not your mother. How will I ever feed you?"

At that moment, Blackie happened to notice the half-full glass of milk. It was within reach, so she took it, two-handed, brought it to her lips, and drank until it was empty.

Copyright © Michael Cho 2009