The Witch's Market by Mingmei Yip

was also apprehensive about staying. Though they seemed nice and harmless, I knew almost nothing about these people. They were strangers, after all, and belonged to a different culture.
    I decided I would stay two or three more days at the most, then reconsider. That way I could see the stone sculptor and the witches again, and explore more of the castle. I wanted to know why the name of the castle had been changed from Maiden Fortress to Heartbreak and why Alfredo chose to live by himself in this strange place.
    After finishing breakfast, I returned to my room and gathered up my flashlight, whistle, knife, camera, pen, notebook, and jacket. Then I went outside and began to stroll around the castle’s stone walls, hoping the fresh air would relax me and help clear my mind.
    In the distance, I spotted Lonely Star, the white horse, who trotted right up to me. I gently stroked his mane, then whispered in his ear, pleading for him to take me back to the old sculptor. I climbed on and a few minutes later he stopped, but not at the same place he’d taken me before. I alighted and climbed up a low rock wall, hoping to spot the sculptor. To my disappointment, the old man was nowhere to be seen. When I turned around, the white horse was gone as well. As before, he seemed to just disappear.
    I continued to walk, still hoping to run into the old man. Under the pigeon gray sky the field was covered with ruins, of what sort of buildings I could not tell. Oddly shaped rocks seemed to resemble human faces, some happy, others sad. Bare branches formed artistic shapes like the elegant, but pained limbs of dancers. I found myself fascinated by this strange, nearly empty landscape. I wanted to stay longer in the castle so as to be able to fully explore its surroundings. But what if Alfredo and Maria were not as they seemed? I needed an escape plan.
    I sat on a rock to rest while enjoying the desolate scene. I noticed a gap between some bushes and, underneath it, rocks circling what looked like a burrow. Curious, I went up and pushed aside the branches. As I looked down into the hole I was taken aback to see a ladder leading underground. As so often during the last few days, I could not help but wonder if I was just imagining things. But when I pressed on the ladder it was quite firm.
    I knew it was foolish to climb down, but my curiosity overcame me and, despite all the strange experiences of the last few days, nothing bad had happened. In the back of my mind was the idea that the cave might be the home or studio of the old sculptor.
    Gingerly I climbed down. When I reached level ground, it was quite dim, illuminated only by the light above. I could see large slabs of rocks arranged as chairs and table, but I couldn’t walk far because it would be completely dark.
    â€œOld señor, are you here?” I called out.
    Silence.
    I swung my flashlight around. Besides the table and chairs there was a large slab of stone on which was placed a thin mattress, blankets, and pillows. In an alcove was a stove with a propane tank, a stack of dishes, and cooking utensils. On a rickety wooden table were candles, piles of clothes, and a well-thumbed book. I shined my light on the book and could read “Herbs and Decoctions” on the cover. Was the old sculptor also an herbalist? Maybe he wanted to concoct his own elixir of immortality. I hoped so, for then he could sculpt even more of his beguiling figures. I took out my camera, turned on the flash, and snapped everything I could see.
    â€œAnyone here?” I called again. “Old señor, it’s me, the woman who bought your statues!”
    My call was answered only by eerie echoes. I was beginning to feel very nervous, wondering who really lived in this place. I sensed a strange vibration—perhaps from the other realm—and decided it was time to leave. Just as I was about to head toward the ladder, I heard footsteps clambering down. Immediately I turned off my light and