Once upon a time, in a quiet suburban neighborhood, there lived a young girl named Emily. It was a close-knit community where everyone knew each other and looked out for one another. Emily was an imaginative and creative child with a passion for all things magical. She loved reading fairy tales and watching movies about witches and wizards. In fact, she even had her own little collection of books and costumes related to her favorite magical characters. One day, while browsing through her collection, Emily stumbled upon a mysterious witch cape.
Lynn Von Korff is a member of the PPA who grew up in the neighborhood and said the Tower was a staple in her and others’ childhoods. Korff recounted going up Tower Hill with her brothers and friends to sled down the then-treeless slope in the winter.
Ring said the Tower was designated as a historical building after decades of not being used and became a place the neighborhood visited and often held celebrations, such as the 100th anniversary of the Tower in 2014, but ceased operations during the COVID-19 pandemic. Too many people have such blind reverence for business methods and profit motives that they cannot distinguish between public and private good and the sometimes vastly different challenges involved in each.
One day, while browsing through her collection, Emily stumbled upon a mysterious witch cape. It was dark purple with silver stars shimmering in the moonlight. The cape seemed to have a magical aura about it, as if it held some special powers.
The Disturbing Case of the Dead Witch
I thought I lived in a safe neighborhood, until I discovered the corpse, smashed up against the front of this house.
October 24, 2016 Save this storySave this story
Save this storySave this story
Illustration by Tomi UmI live in what my wife and I like to think of as a safe neighborhood. Recently, however, at a house just up the street, I have noticed disturbing evidence of possible criminal activity, or, at the very least, a violation of local zoning laws. What stopped me short one morning as I was walking our dog was the sight of a “human” corpse smashed up against the front of this house. I put the word in quotation marks because I’m not quite sure to what category the poor dead creature belongs.
It was as flat as a pancake and had evidently hit the house at a high rate of speed. To me, it appeared to be a witch. Among the seasonal decorations at the house—a plastic pumpkin, a sheaf of Indian corn, a silhouette of a black cat arching its back—this grisly, flattened body, with a witch’s hat still in place and a broom also stuck to the siding, sent a shudder of revulsion mixed with pity down my spine. One could picture the accident all too clearly. A young witch, hardly more than a child, is flying too fast on her broom, then: crash! The little arms outstretched on either side, the green fingers spread in a hopeless last-minute attempt to soften the impact, were enough to break your heart.
The negligence of the homeowner was all the more shocking because he (or she) happened to have a cemetery in the front yard. Small, gray, plastic tombstones announced that Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolf Man were all interred there. Surely it would not be too much to hope that the unlucky little witch be given a decent burial as well, even if she was not a celebrity.
One of the mourners who was visiting the cemetery, a lanky young fellow who wore a hockey mask and carried a chainsaw, stood unmoving, as if in shock, beside the Wolf Man’s grave. “Did you know him?” I asked quietly. The grief-stricken fellow did not reply.
A troubling detail about the grave of Dracula caught my eye. It was a skeletal arm reaching out of the well-manicured lawn. If Dracula had in fact been buried alive, as the skeleton arm seemed to suggest, that made a certain amount of unfortunate sense; when you spend your days lying in a coffin, you do run the risk of this kind of mixup. But how did no one see the arm waving in the air, after it had laboriously burst through the sod? And why was it ignored, waving and waving, ever more slowly, until death finally arrived, blessedly, for the supposedly deathless vampire? Rigor mortis then set in, followed by weeks and months of rot and decay and scavenging by local animals, until the bones of the arm were all that remained. What kind of clueless homeowners could fail to notice such a hideous process taking place on their own front lawn?
Enough was enough. I walked to the front door and rang the bell. A handsome, smiling couple in late middle age answered. We got to talking. And that, in short, is how I happened to run for and be elected to the Parsippany school board.
If the story had ended there, all would have been well. But, sadly, a sequel occurred to darken that happy outcome. It started out quite innocently. As the school-board president, I proposed a new policy mandating that only healthy snacks be given to trick-or-treaters. The ordinance was duly voted upon and passed, and I offered to keep an eye open for any violators. Going around the neighborhood and looking in windows, I noticed that the Hampst family seemed to have some snack-size boxes of Milk Duds ready in a wooden salad bowl by the door. I went around to the back and met Mr. and Mrs. Hampst coming in from the garage. I told them, very politely, that the treats I had observed in their front hall were not allowed. Overreacting, Mr. Hampst began to shout and turn red in the face. In a matter of seconds, he had a heart attack and dropped dead.
Of course I felt terrible. I thought that the very least I could do was offer to defray some of the funeral costs, and suggested to my helpful neighbors with the front-yard cemetery that we give Mr. Hampst a plot there. They proceeded to inform me that it was not a real cemetery (italics mine). Now, I had wondered why the mourner with the chainsaw remained in the exact same position for hours and even weeks without leaving for food and other necessities, but I had not wanted to pry, and my neighbors did not go out of their way to correct any mistaken impression I might have had.
I’m sure there’s a lesson somewhere in all this. Building community takes patience, time, and (sometimes) a regrettable loss of life. But we also have a double standard. The fact remains that a long-dead, decaying young witch is still plastered against my neighbors’ house. Let’s try a little thought experiment:
Would the corpse of a full-grown warlock, a male individual with some power and influence, be subjected to such indignity if he happened to be flying on a much larger broom and ended up smashing into the wall of someone’s house? I think we can all agree that the answer is obvious. ♦
The report offered two other options: $50,000 to keep the structure standing or $1.3 million for extensive repairs to have it be regularly open for visitors.
Excited and curious, Emily decided to put on the witch cape and explore her neighborhood. She believed that wearing the cape would unleash her own magical abilities, allowing her to see the hidden wonders of her surroundings. As Emily walked down the familiar streets of her neighborhood, she started to notice things she had never seen before. The flowers in the gardens seemed to dance in sync with the wind, the trees whispered secrets to each other, and the houses glowed with an otherworldly light. It was as if the entire neighborhood had come alive with magic. Word quickly spread throughout the neighborhood about the young girl in the witch cape, and soon, other children became intrigued by her adventures. They too wanted to experience the same magical wonders that Emily had discovered. With her newfound friends, Emily started a secret society known as the "Cape Club." Every evening, they would gather in a hidden spot in the neighborhood, all wearing their own enchanted capes, ready to explore the magical world they had discovered. Together, they would go on exciting adventures, unraveling mysteries, and helping those in need. The neighborhood became a place of endless possibilities, where the mundane was transformed into extraordinary. As time went on, Emily and her Cape Club continued to bring joy and wonder to the neighborhood. Their adventures became the stuff of legends, passed down from generation to generation. The tale of the witch cape in the neighborhood became a symbol of the power of imagination, friendship, and the extraordinary possibilities that exist in even the most ordinary of places. And so, the story of Emily and her witch cape lived on, inspiring generations of children to embrace their imagination, explore their surroundings, and believe in the magic that exists all around them..
Reviews for "Unleash Your Inner Sorceress with a Glamorous Witch Cape"
1. Jane - 2 stars - I found "Witch cape in the neighborhood" to be extremely underwhelming. The characters lacked depth and the plot felt predictable. The writing style was also quite amateurish, with clunky dialogue and repetitive descriptions. Overall, I was disappointed with this book and wouldn't recommend it to others.
2. Mark - 1 star - "Witch cape in the neighborhood" was a complete waste of my time. The story was incredibly boring and lacked any sort of suspense or intrigue. The protagonist was unlikable and the other characters were forgettable. There was no real development or resolution, leaving me feeling unsatisfied and frustrated. I regret picking up this book and wish I hadn't wasted my money on it.
3. Sarah - 2 stars - I had high hopes for "Witch cape in the neighborhood" but was ultimately let down. The writing was lackluster, with cliché phrases and a lack of creativity. The pacing was off, with some parts dragging on while others felt rushed. The overall plot seemed promising, but the execution fell flat. I struggled to connect with the characters and found myself at times disinterested in their story. Unfortunately, this book didn't live up to my expectations.
4. Tom - 2 stars - "Witch cape in the neighborhood" had an interesting premise, but it failed to deliver. The world-building was weak, with little explanation or depth. The main character lacked motivation, and her actions often felt random and unbelievable. The plot felt disjointed and lacked cohesiveness, making it difficult to stay engaged. While there were some moments of potential, overall, this book was a disappointing read.