As you walked into the old home, there sat Jennifer Hill, one known as Jenny Beamen, daughter of Spectre’s longtime mayor, Frank Beamen, and Mildred Beamen, one of the best bakers to ever set foot in the swamps of Alabama.

The old home Jennifer lived in belonged to her great-aunt, Harriet. Aunt Harriet was known for being an old woman who lived on the edge of Spectre. When her bones would allow, she’d walk to the edge of the town of Ashton to watch the kids. She’d smile as she saw them, hoping the little girls had a better time than she did.

Aunt Harriet dressed in all black and was missing an eye. Whereas no one knew what happened to her eye, everyone knew she wore black to mourn the boy she loved as a girl: the boy who promised to take her away from Spectre, but never did. She became known as ‘The Witch’.

And now, as Jennifer was a woman of almost sixty, the same tragedy had befallen her. There was a boy: Edward Bloom. The first time he came to Spectre, he was early. He was 18, Jennifer was 8. She waited for him to come back. And one day, she gave up, and married a man ten years older than her: Mr. Hill. He ran off years later, leaving Jennifer with the house she had inherited from Aunt Harriet.

The second time Edward came, he was late. Jennifer was 28, Edward was 38. And he was married. It was that day Jennifer realized that Edward would never love her, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. The florals were dropped for shades of black, and the bright smile almost completely disappeared. And in that, Jennifer became ‘The Witch’ herself.

So, here Jennifer was, sitting on the piano bench, lightly playing the white and black keys of her sweet instrument. When you cleared her throat, she turned around.

“Oh. Hello.”