Staying with a witch in her old cabin
This witch is a very old witch, but she’s ever the youngest of her kind. She’s here to tell you the story of her adventures she’s had so far, and stories from long ago, and not fairy tales. The moth-eaten scrolls line her walls, what awaits you in this cabin with the friendly witch? Don’t worry, she’ll make sure to take good care of you, feeding you properly and looking after you. 
Basically this is gonna be some random stories and thoughts bundled into different replies, it can be about anything really, obviously going with the guidelines and whatnot. Enjoy!
TW: Mention of fire, crying, fear
“Yes, yes, I have a cradle, but no babies..I’ve kept it since the story I’m going to tell you..
The cradle was overall fine, still quite far from the fire drawing near. The baby looks away for a moment before it starts crying once again, arms flailing about. A young woman looks in the direction of the fire and sees how it’s getting closer.
Her eyes widen, and her jaw clenches on instinct. Her hands shoot down toward the baby, specifically under it, toward the sheets it lays upon. Her fingers wrap around the fabric in a firm hold, carefully swaddling the young baby in the cradle. She lifts it to her chest just as a hand grabs her shoulder.
She looks into its eyes, unknowing of the hand. She presses the baby against her chest in a tight hold, turning around, only to be met with someone’s chest.
She stumbles back, legs hitting the cradle. The person was transparent, but their gaze seemed to pierce her skin. The gaze, ice cold, battled against the temperature around her. Her breath hitches as she tries to get away.
Holding the baby close, she tears her shoulder away from the hand, knocking the cradle back in the process. “Go.” A raspy voice comes from the transparent figure's mouth, their pale skin tense against their movements, “Back.” She breathes in a harsh breath of frigid air, coughing it out the moment it hits her lungs, the hands grab her shoulders roughly.
She falls to her knees due to the pressure of the hands on her shoulders. The floorboards cry out under her weight being shoved to the ground. Her vision blurs, from the tears some, but the black blotches she sees are part of it too.
I was with the young woman for a long while afterward. The story doesn’t end there, but I suppose you’ll have to wait until I’m ready..” The witch chuckles, grabbing a pail from next to the door, holding out a hand for you to take if you’d like.
“Now, come darling, we need to fetch some water..”
