Those little stone figures by the side of the road converted into a story/poem.

The Witch of Tobermory

By Michael Plante


In the decrepit pines of Old Tobermory there is an old wise woman they call the witch. She moves unseen through the stony landscape hunched over like the pines themselves. Gnarly fingers of her hand pointing towards her destination as the other manipulates a staff that steadies her form. The skin of her hands is like bark from a tree that has seen the rise and fall of many harvest moons. Her trickery is stone placement on the side of the cliffs that over-see the cold waters of Old Tobermory. They are her talismans of tomorrow.


The witch speaks.


"Hum-dee-dum, hum-dee-dum,

I seen you in my wake,

That crash the shore of my home,


Yes, I see you now seeking a new way,

And a distance you’ve traveled to get here…



Walk amongst my pine trees,

They are my friends,

Let their needles scratch your skin, bring you to wake in my mind…

Yes, hum-dee-dum,

Tell me your secretes and I tell you no lies,

Let me feed your imagination,

Take you to the cliffs,

Where forever you shall stay…




I was but a child with a small mind in a large world,

Like a ship at sea during a storm,

With turbulent tides that crash upon the shores,

I was thrown against the stones of humanity,

How the vessel survived I don’t know?


The best teacher I had was despair,

She taught me well,

Fed me hope then stuck her fingers down my throat,

Her sickening laugh is what I remember most,

Her enjoyment is the misery of others,

And I spent a lifetime dancing with her.


When the music stopped her interest in me died,

And so it be that I walked to the cliffs of Old Tobermory,

Where I heard there was a witch that offered a new way,

Rumors and speculations are better than nothing,

And standing at the cliff that over-sees the waters,

I did hear her speak.




My voice is the wind that touches your face,

Close your eyes and let me in,


My sister despair has taught you well,

Let me in and close your eyes….”



What I remember was not good,

I felt her hands upon my face,

A tear rolled down my cheek,

The distorted eye of the mind cleared,

And a child appeared,

Loneliness and hunger,

For I could feel what the child felt,

The witch of Tobermory appeared from behind the child,

Her gnarly hand draped over his shoulders,

A searing breeze that burns the soul rose from within,

A child frozen in time is a child in fear,

She exposes the neck of the young boy,

Then opened her mouth and bit into the innocent flesh,

The motionless child silently screamed as blood trickled down his neck,

And at the same time a piercing pain entered my neck,

And I could feel the trickle of something cold run down my chest,

A dead chill ran through my body,

The witch of Old Tobermory had me for good.



“Hun-dee-dum, hum-dee-dum,,

You taste good, your blood like wine,

I now take you forever,

Your soul is my soul,

Your labor is my command,


Tonight you shall embrace my essence,

As lovers we become,

Tomorrow you rise alone,

To take to task my will,

Hum-dee-dum, hum-dee-dum”



Away into the night we went,

Living as lovers without cause,

That night we traveled to such wonderful places,

Touch the sands that the hour-glass couldn’t hold,

We entered the stars and played in the darkness,

And in the sands of evermore we made love as the tides of time collapsed unto themselves,

She filled my heart with celestial passion,

Then set my soul on fire with ambers of hell,

And as the morning sun rose upon the shores of Old Tobermory,

She slipped into the pines never to be seen again.  


I am her living will,

I am a stone talisman,

Sitting on the edge of the cliff,

Pointing the way for lost souls,

That walk between the decrepit pines,

In search of the witch of Old Tobermory.

Submitted: October 14, 2021

© Copyright 2023 Michael Plante. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

Boosted Content from Other Authors

Short Story / Romance

Book / Memoir

Short Story / Literary Fiction

Short Story / Thrillers