Exclusive Interview: "I’m the Witch That Made Every Masc. Lesbian 5’2”

As a journalist, I feel compelled to write stories that scare even myself. So when I was taking my nightly walks around the swampy outskirts of the Charles River and came across a fright unlike any other, I knew I had to investigate. 

At first I thought she was a shadow, a trick of my mind showing me a figure floating atop the water. Upon my gaze was a woman, the bottom hem of her skirt drenched in radioactive debris from MIT and Harvard students' failed laboratory experiments. 

I blinked, hoping-no praying- that she would disappear when I opened my eyelids once more. Yet there she stood, chain smoking a pack of cigarettes and simultaneously taking hits of her pen. Her hands were shaking, heavy with the weight of rusted silver rings she had stolen from Boomerangs. 

Before I could open my quivering lips to squeak out a semblance of a greeting, she spoke to me. “I see you have finally found me, I have been waiting patiently.” Her mouth seemed to croak with each word, as if she hadn’t spoken in years. 

An ice cold chill ran down my spine, freezing the sweat that had gathered on my brow from the two spiked Starbucks refreshers I had drank moments before stumbling outside. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by a heavy cough which wracked the body of the being before me. She looked me dead in the eyes as her labored breaths turned into something much darker, a cackle. 

“You see, I wait here each October for someone like you.” Her hands danced wildly in the air as she spoke, rings clacking. “Someone,” she continued, “who is able to hear the truth.” 

Finally, I worked up enough courage to respond. “What are you talking about,” I backed a step away, desperate to create distance between us. 

A long hand closed the gap, her fingernails digging into my shoulder. Her face came closer, I could feel the heat of her breath. “It is time for this year's round.” She paused dramatically, tightening her grip on me. (In the spirit of honesty and protecting my journalistic integrity, I was a little turned on by this). “Tonight, I will be shrinking newly out masc lesbians to 5 '2” and you are going to help me.” 

A gasp escaped my throat. Everything began to make sense. All the masc lesbian I had lusted at (occasionally glanced at in my discussion sections) had in fact seemed smaller after Halloween night. I had always assumed I contracted the ick after watching their thirst traps on insta stories, but now I had confirmation that something had truly changed. 

It was then, I decided that I had to gain her trust and find a way to interview her. I would’ve done anything she asked in order to find out the truth (and definitely not for any other reason…) 

The following night was truly magical. I helped her gather potion ingredients: a carabiner to clip ‘friends’ house keys to a belt loop, the sole of a pair of brown blundstones, pointed shears used to cut hair into the shape of Hazel from the Bottoms movie, and so many other items that caused pain upon the sight of them. I felt like I was really doing something, helping the community. 

As the sun began to come up, I knew my opportunity was fast escaping me. I knelt before her, begging on my hands and knees for an interview. She honored me with her compliance. The following is our conversation: 

Me: What made you decide to shrink lesbians? 

Witch: It wasn’t so much a decision as it was a calling. I have been witnessing the toxic behavior of the masc lesbians around Boston for centuries. A lot of people don’t know this, but the Salem Witch Trials was actually perpetrated by mascs who burned their girlfriends at the stake after they refused to be in a polyamorous relationship. I knew then, the mascs wanted to slut around while forcing their girlfriends to remain chaste and I couldn’t allow this to happen. My first spell actually took off an inch of height for everytime they cheated on their girlfriend. 

Me: Wow. Have you ever been hurt by the wicked ways of a masc partner? 

Suddenly lightning struck in front of my face.The whole front of my body felt as if it was on fire. I heard chortling all around me, but I was unable to see anything but bright white light. The sounds grew louder, I covered my ears as tears began to fall, unprompted, down my cheeks. 

When my vision returned, all I could see was a torso wearing a red flannel. My eyes continued upwards for what felt like hours before the witch’s face finally appeared atop this new body. Her long hair gone, she was now sporting a fluffy mullet-esc doo. Her lips were curled into a deep smirk as her eyes peered down at me predatorily. 

“You stupid girl,” she crowed. “I’ve had you tricked all along you, so gullible aren’t you.” Her hand reached down at me. I began following the expanse of her arm with my eyes, it had nearly doubled in length. She gripped my neck once more, forcing my head nearly entirely horizontal to look up at her. “Every inch I take from another, I grow myself. I will be the tallest masc lesbian in all the lands!” Her voice boomed around us and I finally began to take in her full height. 

She was towering over me at nearly nine feet. Her outfit was nearly entirely made up of pieces we had gathered for potion making. I never felt so silly as I did at that moment. Instead of defeating the evil of toxic mascs, I had instead created a bigger monster. I

I began to work up my courage and try to think of ways to destroy this devious being. Yet, before I could even string together a coherent plan, I felt the weight of her hand disappear from my body. Another flash of lightning came between us, this one lasting much longer. Once I had regained my sense once more, she had disappeared into the night sky. 

To say I am disappointed, is an understatement. But to that witch, who is narcissistic enough to read this, I will be coming back for you. I will ruin you for all the pain you have caused. 

Be mindful of the women you scorn, they may just come back to shrink you.