Joey 乔明慧 230110520

“Smack!” The crisp sound of a slap shatters the tranquility of the night. This isn’t the first time her husband hits her. Madeleine can’t bear it any longer. She turns, opens the door, and runs out of the house. She doesn’t heed the shouts and the sound of shattering glass from behind; she just plunges straight into the deepening darkness.

After walking for a while, when the only sound in her ears is the rustling of her shoes treading on fallen leaves, Madeleine finally calms down. She lives on the edge of the village, right next to the forest. Rage clouds her mind, so she doesn’t pay attention to how long she has been walking. Now, she finds herself in the pitch-black forest, with the pale moonlight overhead as her only source of light. But she isn’t afraid. She often comes here—sometimes to gather firewood, other times to collect medicinal herbs.

She finds a tree stump and sits down. A flood of bitterness and grievance overwhelms her. What should she do now? Go back to her husband and be meek and submissive as before? No! She doesn’t want to live that kind of life anymore.

Suddenly, an idea comes to her mind. When she sells herbs in the village, she hears people mention that deep in the forest lives a witch who can help with anything. But no one ever ventures deep into the forest, and no one knows if the story is true or not.

Having come this far, Madeleine decides to seek out this mysterious witch. She stands up, brushes the dust from her skirt, and resolutely continues walking deeper into the woods.

She doesn’t know how long she walks when she notices the trees around her becoming sparser, the space more open. “Of course, something like a witch couldn’t possibly be real,” she thinks, but she doesn’t stop. Before long, a black wooden hut appears before her eyes.

Madeleine slows her pace and cautiously approaches the hut. After hesitating at the door for a moment, she finally knocks.

The wooden door creaks open. A woman with red curly hair and freckles on her cheeks appears in the doorway.

“Are you…… the witch?” As soon as the question leaves her lips, Madeleine belatedly realizes it might be impolite.

“The witch? You could say that.” The woman’s tone is calm, showing no trace of annoyance at being disturbed so late at night. “Come in.” She steps aside to let Madeleine in.

Madeleine glances around. The hut isn’t large, but it is tidy. However, it isn’t like what she imagines a witch’s house to be. There is no cauldron bubbling with potions, no fancy flying brooms. The woman isn’t wearing robes or a pointed hat either. Instead, she wears an ordinary long dress, much like Madeleine’s.

“How should I address you?” Madeleine twists the hem of her dress nervously.

“Call me Lilith. Please, have a seat.” Lilith pulls out a chair, gesturing for Madeleine to sit, then sits down opposite her. “What brings you here?”

“My husband drinks heavily every day. When he’s drunk, his temper becomes terrible. He finds fault with me for no reason, and even hits me…” The more she speaks, the softer and shakier her voice becomes. “Could you help me?”

“Of course.” Lilith’s expression remains neutral, but her green eyes are exceptionally clear. She pours a glass of water and pushes it toward Madeleine. “I’ll help you with this. You can rest here for a while.”

Madeleine doesn’t expect things to go so smoothly. She rubs the side of the glass with her fingers. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“No need. If you feel uneasy, you can bring me some bread or milk next time you come and leave it by the door.” Lilith pats Madeleine’s hand reassuringly.

The next day, Madeleine brings several bottles of milk and leaves them by the black wooden door. From then on, her husband never hits her again, and he even drinks less frequently. This surprises Madeleine greatly, so one day, she visits Lilith again.

“How did you manage it?” Much more relaxed compared to their first meeting, Madeleine sits in the same chair, sipping the flower tea Lilith has just brewed.

“How I do it isn’t important,” Lilith says while tidying the cupboard. “What matters is you. You should make some changes too.”

“Me?” Madeleine is still a bit confused.

“Letting people see the real you is more effective than any magic or witchcraft,” Lilith replies.

Gradually, Madeleine seems to understand Lilith’s words. She no longer submits meekly as before. She no longer walks with her head down. Bruises no longer appear on her face, replaced instead by determined eyes and a confident smile. Her friends also notice her subtle changes, and Madeleine tells them about the witch. Later, more and more women bring things and quietly venture deep into the forest late at night.

No one knows what magic or potion Lilith uses. They only know they no longer have to follow men around like servants or puppets as they used to. They can stand tall and freely express their thoughts. Some even tell their husbands that they will work outside the home.

Seeing the changes in the village, Madeleine takes fresh bread and milk to Lilith every week, doing her part to thank her. But where the black wooden hut once stands, only a tree stump remains. On it is a cloth string pinned down by an arrow, with bright red words fluttering in the wind:

“If you give a woman—untamed, angry, joyous and immortal—then you have a witch.”