Farmer's Daughter

Lester jumped back, horrified and confused. Her eyes opened. She looked down at herself, startled, and she clutched the blanket around her body. Her eyes returned to him, glaring this time. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," she said. Her voice was different. It was a scratchy old lady voice.

"What's happening? What..."

The old woman rolled her head, stretching painfully. "Oh that takes it out of me. That really hurts."

"What does? What's going on?" Lester demanded. He was pulling his clothes on.

The old woman chuckled. "Oh I think it's a bit late for that interview, Lester Wentworth. I think you might know a bit too much already, don't you?"

"You mean... the girl... you?"

"Well that used to be me." She plucked at her hair. "I used to have those golden curls."

Lester fixed his glasses into place and met the strange creature's eyes. Fear gripped him. "You're the witch?"

She just smiled.

"And you're going to... what are you going to do to me?"

"I've already done it, Lester. It will take about a day. You'll see."

"But I won't tell anyone. If you let me go I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Oh, I know you won't." The witch stood with difficulty. She kept the blanket wrapped around herself. A black cat jumped in the loft window and rubbed against her legs. A crow swooped in and fluttered to a halt upon a hay bale.

"What's going to take a day? What did you do to me?" Lester pleaded.

The witch stroked her cat. The crow crowed. "No, I'm not going to tell him," she said with another chuckle. She had spoken to the bird. She looked to Lester sympathetically. "You're free to go, Lester. Just follow the road back to town. My daddy was a farmer here but he passed away some years ago. No one is looking for you." The crow crowed again, laughing, it seemed.

Lester backed away towards the ladder. The witch sat down beside the crow. She was just smiling.

"Hurry and you can catch the night train, Lester. You might want to be at home in your own bed for when it happens to you."

"What did you do to me?" Lester implored of the woman but she just laughed, and the fear overpowered him and had him running.

He ran all the way back to the bridge, where he stopped and caught his breath. He then steeled himself for ghost horses or crazy farmers with pitchforks, crossed the bridge with cold shivers crawling up his spine, and ran all the way back to the hotel.

He packed his bag fast. There was an ache in his neck and he felt weird, slightly dizzy. He paid the buxom hotelier and hurried to the train station. He was not able to run, but he walked briskly. He was just in time for the train, and threw himself into a seat. The ache in his neck seemed to spread to his back and shoot down his thighs.

What came over Lester during that two hour train ride was something far more powerful than mere tiredness. He felt utter fatigue in every pore of his skin and every muscle in his body. He staggered from the train to a bus, and he dragged himself from the bus to his front door.

It was late and his house was in silence and darkness. He crept down the stairs to his room in the basement and closed the door. The bed seemingly lifted to meet him as his face slapped into the pillow. He couldn't get back up. He was completely drained of energy and his body absolutely throbbed in pain. He closed his eyes and darkness swallowed him whole.

***

Rosalinda opened her eyes to the bright morning sunlight. It only ever took a night, and she could feel the thrill of youth in her veins. She raked fingers down her face. Her skin was firm, and she smiled. She turned her head and her blond curls were there strewn across the pillow.

She sat up and stretched, glowing. A quick inspection down the front of her nightdress revealed perky breasts. She giggled to herself in utter delight and bounced out of bed to fling open the door of her wardrobe. She would need to go shopping for clothes again. She hadn't been eighteen in about fifty years and had nothing fashionable to wear.

"Thank you, Lester," she said, turning this way and that in her mirror.

Having created the illusion for Lester had been draining, but this was no longer an illusion. Rosalinda had gone through the rejuvenation process four times previously. This was the first time she had chosen to grow so old. She had been curious about it, wondering how it felt and enjoying the experience. The past few years had slipped by, and age had sort of crept up on her. It was definitely time to be young again. There was so much to experience as a girl in the twenty-first century. There was so much she wanted to do and it was all before her thanks to Lester Wentworth.

Rosalinda giggled at thought of the hapless boy and how excited he had been to be with her. She always liked the men she used to rejuvenate.

"Oh but I'll have to think of a new name," she muttered as Winston rubbed up against her legs. "What do you think, Winston... how does Lena sound for a modern girl's name? Poor old Rosalinda had to move down south to be with family due to her failing health. I'm her grandniece, Lena... it's so nice to meet you!"

***

Lester's mother banged on her son's door. "Are you there, Lester? I heard you come in. Are you coming up for pancakes?"

Lester heard his mother's voice in the distance. He was flying through clouds. His soul thumped into his body and he jumped out of bed. A surge of pure energy lit him up and he sucked in a breath of cold morning air and expelled it.

What the hell?

He felt his face. It was different. He fixed on his glasses and sought the mirror. His vision was terribly blurred so he pulled off his glasses to check them. They were fine. He looked in the mirror and could see perfectly clearly without them.

Holy shit!

Lester studied the difference in his face. His features were sharper. Had he lost a few pounds? His cheeks weren't chubby at all. He had cheekbones, and without the glasses his green eyes looked sharp. He clutched his chest. He was still wearing his shirt from yesterday but it was open and he had abs and pecs. His pot belly was gone and he had muscular definition for the first time in his life.

What the... He suddenly remembered the witch. He pictured the old woman, and his mind reeled as he remembered the girl he had made love with. He could still smell her perfume. He sniffed his sleeve. It was real.

Lester ripped off his clothes and had a quick shower. He found his mother and aunt at breakfast. The pancakes went down well. "Who knows?" he tossed back in answer to his mother's questions. "Suddenly I can see without the specs, Mum..."

He gave his mother a kiss and his aunt a hug. "So you'll be moving in, Aunty? That's good because I'm moving out!"

Lester checked his hair in the mirrored wall cabinet. It was sitting differently. The weird sprouting was gone and he was able to ruffle it into shape quite easily. He jogged to the car lot and put a deposit down on the silver convertible had been dreaming about lately. He drove that to the estate agent and set up viewing of a few apartments for that afternoon.

"Hey, Carl... you need a haircut, man," he said, striding into the office and messing Carl's hair as he pushed his head. The self-confidence surging through Lester was incredible. Carl was a wimp. He could see that clearly.

"Hey, Emily..." He edged onto her desk. She looked up, her mouth dropping open. He met her eyes, holding her gaze steadily as her cheeks flushed. "You know, it's a shame you don't want to come out with me sometime," he said. "I think you're really pretty, and you seem like a nice person. I would have loved to have gotten to know you outside of work."

He left her with a smile. He checked his teeth in the bathroom mirror and found them to be whiter and straighter than they were yesterday.

He went to fix his hair but it didn't need it. He shrugged and went to his desk and turned his computer on. He somehow knew he had to write a story about the old woman known as the witch of Apple Glen having moved down south to spend her dying days with her family. Lester had no idea where that came from, but it was a story he needed to write. He cracked his knuckles and addressed his keyboard.

There was a presence behind him. He swivelled in his chair to see Emily still blushing and batting eyelashes. Julie was gripping Emily's hand and smiling like a fool. Carl was standing there with his mouth hanging open and a look of bewilderment on his face.

Lester just shrugged at them. "What?"

End