Every Witch Was Once a Woman
Songs To Stories Volume XII
Inspired by: Whose Afraid of Little old me and CANCELLED! by Taylor Swift
At the edge of Ashwood Hollow, beneath a magnolia tree that blooms blood-red each spring, a house watches and remembers. It remembers Hazel Vale, the quiet woman who moved in with her husband in 1949. The neighbours said they were happy—he said she was delicate, that she sometimes lost her temper, that it was best not to startle her if you saw her pacing the yard at night. He smiled as he said it. People always believed the man who smiled.
Then one night, Hazel’s husband disappeared. And the stories began.
The house remembers the whispers. The way the townsfolk crossed the street when she passed. The way the children dared each other to touch her fence. They said she’d gone mad, that she’d killed him, that the screams from her windows were proof of her wickedness. But they never saw what happened behind the walls—how love curdled to cruelty, how devotion turned to terror.
Years later, another woman moves into Ashwood Hollow. Annie Smith. A new face, a new story, the same haunting script. Her husband controls her every breath, isolates her, rewrites her world until she doubts it herself. And when he turns up dead, the headlines write her name in fire: wife, widow, murderer.
But some stories don’t end the first time they’re told. In the courtroom where Annie stands accused, the lights flicker. The air hums. Somewhere, far beyond the veil, Hazel is listening—and she’s not about to let another woman burn for surviving.
Every Witch Was Once a Woman unfolds in the eerie town of Ashwood Hollow, located just beyond the borders of Ashridge Hollow—the setting of Britt Wolfe’s haunting The Hollow Hours series. Though the two towns exist in different stories, their histories share the same ghosts. Together, they form a chilling map of fear, silence, and feminine power rising from the ashes.
Eerie, atmospheric, and devastatingly human, Every Witch Was Once a Woman is a dark feminist story about the women we destroy, the legends we create to justify it, and the power that rises when silence finally breaks. Because every witch was once a woman. And every woman remembers what it felt like to burn.