TAKE A BITE
When Mum and Dad were gone, Granny let her long grey hair hang down to her waist, crooked her pointy fingers and chased me round the room with a poisoned apple.
“Take a bite, take a bite,” she cackled, as I ran screaming and laughing.
Eventually she caught me, and I sat on her knee while she cut slices of apple for us with a long bone-handled blade. She cut green slices for me, and red, poisoned slices for her.
“Granny, you are eating the poisoned slices?” I cried.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “You can’t poison a witch.”
ARE YOU A WITCH?
“Are you a witch” I asked.
“Of course,” My dear old Granny replied, and hugged me tight. “The world is full of witches.”
“Can you do magic?”
Granny snorted, as if I’d said something stupid. “Everyone can do magic, even you.”
I didn’t think I could do magic, but I knew better than to argue with Dear Old Granny.
“A witch is someone who does whatever they like,” said Dear Old Granny. “I always do whatever I like.”
“Granny,” I asked, “Can I have a ride on your broomstick.”
“Maybe later,” said Granny. “Now, let’s go and light the oven.”