Hexed
The year was 1996 and the people of Yonder Acres were preparing for their first Halloween party since their ancestors made this plot of land their home back in 1692. Adults and children alike were overly excited for the festivities, getting ready the homemade carnival rides and games; this evening was to be about fun and togetherness. All for the sake of the children.
Unfortunately, the good people of Yonder were in for a wicked surprise, which would end with all of the lives of the townsfolk being brutally and forcefully taken. Taken for some of the most vile of deeds, all preformed by the foul hag of a witch that was cast out of the community in the very beginning of the settlement. Revenge was sought for the wrongdoing the Yonder ancestors committed against their very own magic source; revenge that would sully the souls of every individual within the area...children included.
As the descendants of Yonder's first ones decorated their houses and yards for the season, the witch was finalizing the last of her elaborate spell- a specially devised spell meant to repeat time as well as unleash the most deadly of creatures to ever exist. Victory was to belong to the witch, at long last; after centuries of heartache and despair, she was to finally take back her home and start anew. The spell, which has had lifetimes to cook, was ready to be used; every ingredient mixed together properly and every tool set in place to pull it off. Magic would rise once more whilst humanity would begin to crumble.
Death, as far as the witch was concerned, was a mercy she was bestowing on the people; honestly convinced that the descendants of her people were deserving of her wrath.
So, the witch cast a protection spell on herself, grabbed the main tool that she required (an ancient wand that once belonged to the Fairy Queen), and left her cave from deep within the woods to inact her dark spell. Her journey lasted only a few short hours before she found herself upon the gate of the town.
"It is time," said the witch. Grinning, she began to chant her spell in a forgotten tongue. Her voice carried on the the gusts of wind conjured by the wand in her possession, bringing the attention of the children to her. The witch could hear as the little ones pounded on the gate door blocking their path to her, and she could hear as the adults scrambled about attempting to figure out how to stop her. This only made the grin on the witch widen to a full smile as she, excitedly, continued her chants and twirled the wand about.
"Witch!" An older gentleman with hair and beard as long as winter, and seemingly frail, spoke with the highest authority. As though he were a king. "You, I know you. You murdered my grandmother, in the hopes of bringing back to life your devil husband. Which you failed to do."
The chanting had stopped. The witch knew this man. She recalled his eyes, those which look like space above. She remembered sparing him because of those eyes. "I know you," the witch laughed. "Your eyes compelled me. I could not kill you as I had intended. However, you have now lived a good, what? Two hundred years?"
"You are not welcome. As I recall," the old man stepped forward
