Not for the Faint of Heart

What's that moss-covered black object in the tree? Fungus? No, look closer. See the little heel? The pointy toe? That's right, folks. You're witnessing an actual photograph of The Witch Boot, located in my own backyard. This legendary boot first made it's appearance more than a decade ago, before our house was in existence. Dad was clearing brush to make way for a drainage field when he found it tangled amidst the blackberry bushes. Mom's initial explanation was that a little girl - perhaps our very own grandmother, who used to ride her horse in these same woodlands - had simply lost her boot while she was out playing. But that just doesn't make for a good story. Besides, this boot carried an aura of haunting mystery that no ordinary article of footwear could hold.

Dad hung the boot in a tree, where it remains today (I just checked this afternoon). Suddenly, one of us bright children (probably me), had a chilling revelation.

"It looks like a witch's boot."

So, The Witch Boot it became, and a legend was born.

One night, The Witch of the Woods was out for her usual midnight jog (witches need to stay fit to keep their broom-flying up to par) when she became ensnared in some blackberry vines. She pried herself from the vines, freeing all but one boot. She tried to remove the boot from the vine's wicked grasp, but it held on mercilessly, scratching her arms as she struggled. Furious, and with blood trickling from her wrists, the witch cast a spell on the vine.

"You may think you're tough now, but one day, humans armed with gloves and machetes will attack you and your attempts to fight back will all be in vain!" She stopped to cackle into the moonlit night, before finishing. "And then, my boot will be freed and returned to me."

And that, children, is why we never venture into the deep, dark woods at night. For one evening (witches only come out after dark, you know), the disgruntled, shoeless witch may return to retrieve what is rightfully hers, eager to seek revenge on the meddling souls who dared lay hands on her precious boot. After all, we all know what happened to the blackberry vine. (Cue the scary music)