Batty Anna, the witch, was the strangest witch ever. Unlike many other witches, Batty Anna loathed spiders and cobwebs, eyes of newts and toes of frogs. Candy corn, lollipops and toffee apples brought squeals of delight. Batty Anna was different; she wanted to join the other witches in spell casting school, to transform bats and rats into sticky donuts and cream cakes, but things always went wrong.
Her wand was broken and crooked. Perhaps it required new triple A batteries or fairy dust perhaps; something to make her spells work.
Batty Anna loved sweets and stole treats from the children on Halloween. She could have just knocked on doors and collected her own, but Batty Anna never thought of that.
Batty Anna stood behind the children, her windy bottom inflating her bloomers, waiting to snatch the sweets away. The poor children, unable to stand the smell that escaped from her bloomers, dropped the sweets running in all directions.
Batty Anna scooped up the sweets into her hat. Carefully straddling her broomstick, Batty Anna, prepared to fly home. Batty Anna held tightly, grasping the broomstick with one hand. Her other hand steadied her hat. The sweets making it wobble, tangled, bedraggled strands of hair poking out in all directions. Children stood watching from behind the hedge.
Chanting a spell designed to get her flying home in no time. “Huff and puff and stamp my feet, get this broomstick off the street.” Whoosh and fizz the broomstick shot forward, shooting straight up in the air. Batty Anna hung on with all her might as the broomstick spun into a giant loop. Her skirts fell over her head, hem, catching on her wart covered nose.
Batty Anna wore neon green and orange striped socks and her purple bloomers filled with air. Acting like a parachute, Batty Anna floated to the ground. Children ran along the street giggling. Batty Anna crashed to the ground unhooked her skirt from her warty nose and stood up, dazed.
Batty Anna dropped her hat and the sweets spilled on the ground. It was then Batty Anna remembered her cat, Fishy. Before her adventure, she had stoked Fishy under the chin and promised him she would bring food. Fishy purred.
Desperately Batty Anna tugged and pulled, struggling to straighten the crooked wand. She waved it over her hat and sweets. “Huff and Puff and stamp my feet, change the sweets so my cat can eat.”
She stamped her feet three times and the hat twirled and flew into the air. Falling back to the ground, a white mouse scurried away. Batty Anna carefully lifted the hat finding six more white mice curled up inside.
Batty Annas older sisters returned with jars of frogs and newts hungry for dinner. Batty Anna should have cooked a worm stew instead of stealing sweets. Angry and hungry her sister grabbed Batty Anna broom stick snapping it like a twig. Casting a spell on the white nice turning them into a tasty pie, her sister ate hungrily.
Batty Anna was too upset to eat. She hated her sisters. She hated pie. Most of all she hated being a witch.
Batty Anna, too hungry to sleep, read the story of ”Cinderella” and decided that is whom she would like to be.