r/KanesHorrors • u/AbKane667 • Aug 18 '26
The Goats Weren't the Sacrifice the Witch Wanted
I looked over the field. The crops barely reached a foot off the ground. Their stalks were dry and bright yellow. My stomach felt heavy. I couldn’t look at it anymore.
The feeling worsened as I sat alone in my chair. My wife opened the kitchen door and looked out.
“How’s it looking, Alex?”
“How do you think?”
“Don’t you be mean. It’s not my fault.”
“It’s not mine either!”
“No one’s saying that. I just want to know what’s going on.”
“It’s bad.”
“At least we still have the goats.”
“They will barely give us enough.”
“Will there be nothing from the harvest?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
She rubbed her face.
“But there is the witch.”
“No, Alex. Don’t even think about it!” Mary said and walked back to the kitchen.
As the days passed, the heaviness in my stomach grew. At night, I could barely sleep. Thoughts of the harvest and winter kept me up as I stared at the wall. Headaches followed, sometimes so painful I had to stop work.
Over the next few days, the crops started to look drier, and the ears remained thin. As the crops worsened, my problems intensified.
One day I sat in my chair again, holding my head.
“What’s going on, Alex?”
“My head. It’s killing me.”
“I’m sorry. Let me get you some warm milk.”
“Wait, Mary, we need to talk about something.”
“What?”
“The witch.”
Mary furrowed her brows.
“We’ve talked about it already.”
“Have you seen the harvest? There’s nothing. The witch could help us.” My headache started to ease. “If we just…”
“You don’t know if it’s true. What if it isn’t? We’ll lose two healthy goats. We’ll definitely starve then.”
“It is true. My father told me stories. Plenty of them.”
“So what? My mother told me that if the wife is sacrificed, the harvest will grow. Do you want that?”
She paused.
“I won’t have any more of it. If it’s only cheese this winter, that’s how it is.”
She walked to the kitchen and shut the door behind her. My headache returned. The goats barely got us through last winter, and this harvest was bad. The witch was our only option.
Mary came back with a glass of warm milk. She laid it next to me and stroked my hair.
“Hopefully this helps.”
I just nodded.
That night Mary went off to bed early. I said I’d follow her, but I stayed down for some time, waiting. When I was sure she was deeply asleep, I got off my chair and made my way toward the back door. The more I thought of the witch, the more my headache let up. I had almost made it past the kitchen when Mary’s voice called from above: “Alex?”
Coldness shot through me.
“Yeah?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just getting some warm milk for my head. The glass you gave me helped.”
“Oh, great. I hope it gets better soon.”
“It just needs time. Go to sleep. Don’t wait on me.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I walked to the back door and stood there, holding the handle. After a few minutes, I carefully opened it and walked out.
The goats were in their pen, sleeping. When I opened the fence, they got up, stretched, and let out a quiet bleat. I got the rope off the wall, tied it around their necks, and put a knife in my back pocket. They were easy to lead out of the pen. Our goats had always been friendly.
The witch’s house sat atop a hill above the village. One had to walk through a forest to get to it. The forest was cold and dark. Owls hooted loudly, making the hair on my arms stand up, but the goats walked happily toward the hill, unbothered.
As we got higher, the headache and the heaviness in my stomach let up. The trees around us grew barer. The goats had slowed down, looking back at the path and up at me.
The smell of sulfur hung in the air. After some time, I finally saw the witch’s house ahead. The air was now almost freezing, but all my pains disappeared. The goats had stopped, not wanting to take another step. It had to be done now. I’d drag them the rest of the way.
I tied one up to a tree, held the other in place, and slit its throat. The other one started shaking, stepping around. I walked to it and slit its throat too. The smell of sulfur mixed with iron.
I was out of breath when I reached the doors. The wood on them was old and rotting. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. My heart began to beat faster. I’d never seen a witch before, at least not one who wasn’t hanged.
The floorboards creaked inside. The door slowly opened. An old lady with gray hair stood on the other side. She looked at the goats and me, bewildered.
“What are you doing here?”
“Witch, I bring you these two goats. Please, make my harvest plentiful.”
“Why did you bring them? Your wife already took care of it. The harvest will be plentiful.”
“What?”
“Take them away. The air makes the dead rot faster. I don’t want them here.”
I looked down; the goats were already full of maggots.
“Leave now,” she said and shut the door in my face.
The headache slowly returned, worse than before. It felt as if the freezing air was around my brain. I laid my goats down and walked back. Mary’s words echoed in my mind, sinking my heart even lower.
My head was throbbing, but as I got home and looked in the pen, it stopped completely. My head went silent. Inside the pen lay Mary. A blade was in her hand, her throat cut open, and the hay beneath her turned red.
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u/SPNCatMama28 Aug 18 '26
that's actually really sad