A place I never want to return to

 A descriptive text from the perspective of a little child as he is taken with his grandfather to a forest in the village, in search of the witch who is supposed to cure everybody's problems and sicknesses.

It was in an overgrown, dim forest, at the corner of it a vague shadowy hut was overseen. The path had been created perhaps through the years of carriages and people passing by it, there weren't any huts around the forest -  so we assumed it would be the one we were in search of. Close by, I could sense I didn't belong there, I felt like grabbing my grandad's hand and darting out. It was a tiny odd-shaped muddy-coloured hut, with a cluster of palm leaves placed above it to form a secure roof, uneven, rough, mud walls surrounding it - fully covered in moss that made it look awfully damp and enough to collapse on one of us. Trudging toward the hut, I tiptoed continuously, as red ants scampered all along the path vigorously trying to capture a bite from my feet.

All I could see was pitch black, we gave a slight, gingerly tap onto the broad, rectangular, wooden door. It was open and we stepped inside, the dim candle flicked continuously. A shadow was to be seen through it and I could capture the voices of mumbles. I shivered. Goosebumps were visible all through my skin. The feeling of not being welcomed was visible, I just knew it wasn't the best place for me.

She was an old, short, and stout lady. Dressed in deep colours - a long hooded purple cloak surrounded her, and a red awkward-shaped hat was worn. Her sharp eyes stared right into me, it was as if she was planning something I couldn't apprehend. I hid behind grandfather, clenched his pants, and trembled. She looked at us both, and opened her mouth - for the first time I've ever heard such a terrifying weird voice, sounding manly and rather rougher. "what have you little rats come in for?'' she said in a trembling voice.

Murmuring and frowning, she held her long, ugly shriveled, disgustingly dirty fingers tightly to a small, circle, glass ball. Occasionally she lifted her eyes, stared at me for a minute, and bent her neck down concentrating on her glass ball. 

One after another, folk kept entering - she didn't lift her head until she was done. The people wore tattered, dirty old clothes, they looked undeniably poor. Desperate and saddened with their problems and issues, some crying and sobbing away - their somber emotions made me feel worse. Everyone treated her with much respect and majesty.

I sensed she desired honor and had the need to feel powerful over everyone else. As all were desperate, crying away and telling their dozens of problems - it seemed that she was the one supposed to find a cure for them. My confusion daunted me, everything just felt unjust and I definitely couldn't understand why. The most important part to me was, if it was all true - would she be able to cure my terribly sick mother who was about to die?

As we waited for our turn, I franticly hesitated, mosquitos and bugs kept biting and irritating my skin. I couldn't wait anymore, however, mother needed a cure for her unknown sickness, would this sort of atmosphere prevent me from finding a cure for her? The malodorous odor filled the tiny room, my legs wiggled and cried for a break from walking and standing. A big rectangular, black, wooden bookshelf stood in front of me, stacks of old, thick, dark, coloured books and woven cloth bags filled it. The queer eerie feeling of unknown spirits bothered me, I decided this was a place I never wanted to return back to.