“It was the radiator, obviously!”
Enid was having nothing to do with the silly tales of magic, witchcraft and hocus pocus, and that was all she could come up with to explain the strange clanking noises coming from the wall behind the cauldron.
It was Carmichael’s idea to break into the old place.
The dig-out under the bridge was OK, but not really what they could call a home. Carmichael had spotted the old house on the hilltop when he was out hunting for food, and thought that would be a better option. He’d watch the place for hours, noticing nobody entering or leaving, and it was this that made him realise it was ideal.
He returned to the dig-out, and told Enid to gather their belongings (a baseball bat and a cat called Snowy) and that he’d found them a proper home.
Enid wasn’t sure when she first saw the place, but agreed it looked much better than the dig-out. “As long as no-one lives there.” She said.
“They don’t,” Carmichael told her, “No-one’s come and gone for months.”
Using the bat, he gingerly broke a rotting panel through in a door at the back, and opened the door easily with the catch. They both walked in and Enid placed Snowy on the floor, who dashed ahead exploring. Within seconds, Snowy returned and leapt into Enid’s arms, trembling.
Comforting Snowy, Enid followed Carmichael into the room that had seemingly terrified the cat. To their surprise, especially Carmichael’s, they saw a single lit candle in the centre of a chalk circle drawn on the floor in the middle of the room. Nothing else was in the room.
“It must be kids.” Carmichael brushed it aside. “Or witches!”
Enid jabbed Carmichael in his stomach with her hand, and then blew out the candle. A strange red plume of smoke disappeared as she did so.
“It’s the lack of light’” She said, not entirely convincing herself, and then changed the topic of conversation. “Lets find the kitchen – there may be food!”
Carmichael’s ‘hunting’ wasn’t exactly the best. He was known to the majority of the local shops and not allowed in, so had to go further afield, and even then he could only grab the odd packet of crisps or biscuits. Both he and Enid were in need of a proper meal.
Kitchen found, and food cupboard opened, they were in luck. The cupboard was full of tinned food – salmon, tuna, potatoes, sardines. “Snowy can have them.” Enid decided. “What’s the best before date on the tuna?” She asked. Carmichael took one of the tins over to the window, just as a flash of lightning timely lit up the panel he was looking for.
“October 2015” He read. “What’s today’s date?”
“31st” Enid replied, looking at all of the tins in the cupboard.
“It’s only the best before date,” Carmichael tried to reassure her. “Let’s have a feast if we must!”
“I’d hardly call cold tuna, and sardines for Snowy, a feast but we beggars can’t be choosers now, can we?”
They both laughed and Carmichael opened the can with a tin-opener he’d found in one of the drawers.
Enid had a sudden pang of guilt… and a thought. “If no-one lives here, what’s all this food doing here then?”
Carmichael smirked. “It’s for the witches. They always eat fish!”
They both tucked into what was probably their best meal for a couple of years. Snowy purred contentedly with her sardines, although out of the three of them, she’d probably had the most success hunting.
A loud clanking caused them to sit up on the floor.
The clanking was coming from beneath them.
“There would be a cellar” Enid commented.
“Well, the place is on a hill,” Carmichael was still pushing her buttons. “The whole hill could be the cellar for all we know!”
They left Snowy asleep, and both went to investigate.
The entrance to the cellar was merely an old stone staircase accessed through an alcove at the back of the kitchen. Although it was dark, both Enid and Carmichael could see their surroundings clearly, but neither of them thought it odd.
The cellar was large, and empty apart from a big round pot at the far end. The clanking noise, which was louder now, was coming from behind the pot.
“You know what that is, Enid?” Carmichael teased. “That’s a cauldron. I told you this is a witch’s house!”
“Shuttup.” Enid snapped. “Shuttupshuttupshuttup. There’s no such thing.”
As well as the clanking, they could now also hear a squeaking coming from the same place. Carmichael walked over, boldly and confidently, to the cauldron and looked behind. A pointed black hat was rapidly moving from side to side, backwards and forwards, and the squeaking was coming from beneath it.
“Look at this,” Carmichael beckoned Enid over. Tentatively, she approached, but peered from behind him. He lifted the hat, and found that a rat, wearing a small collar, had been chained to the old radiator that was attached to the wall. The rat looked in a worse condition than they did, it had obviously also not eaten for a while. Enid ran back to the kitchen and brought it some tuna, unsure whether the rat would eat it – but the tuna was gone in a second.
Carmichael managed to free the chain, and as he did the rat scurried away, up the stairs and out from the cellar. “There’s gratitude for you!” he said, tongue in cheek.
A loud cackle filled the cellar, followed by an even louder crash of thunder.
“Did you hear that?” Carmichael asked one of his stupid questions. Enid stood before him, ashen. “I bet that rat was the witch, and she’d been changed into the rat by a spell, and chained up here. Or she’d been chained as the witch and then changed.”
“No. I’m not having that.” Enid desperately looked for the more logical explanation.
“It was the radiator. Obviously. That and the storm. There are no witches around here.”
Another cackle filled the room as if in response to Enid, and then the flames beneath the cauldron ignited by themselves.
“That’s no radiator!” Carmichael said, as he and Enid were already heading for the stairs.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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