Wednesday, 15 March 2017

Drabble Wednesday: Crones

Today on Drabble Wednesday, beware the little old ladies...

Granny’s Little Helpers

Somewhere, an old woman stands on a back porch at dusk, a large canvas sack at her feet. She murmurs into the night...
“Come my little darlings, Granny has a treat! A sup or two of blood, a morsel of fresh meat. That’s right, that’s right, the tastiest delight. Slink my pretties, from the shadows dim, and slither forth, from the graveyard grim. I need your teeth and your claws, to tear and chew, devour with your jaws.”
Blackness shimmers, and tiny voices chitter.
The old woman smiles.
“Come, come, time to eat. Granny has a body, the finest treat.”


By the River

The old woman cackled, her scrawny jowl flaps bouncing a little. “You should’ve listened, fool. Them old legends you scoffed at, should’ve listened. I ain’t never lost a challenge. And I wasn’t sure going to start with the likes of you.”
Rupert started at the dice, and the old lady squatting on her haunches by the riverbank. “It’s not possible. You couldn’t have won the game.”
“Why? ‘Cause those dice of yours is weighted? All rigged to cheat? That don’t matter none to me. Game’s always rigged in my favour.” She laughed again. “Pay up, fool. One soul, as promised.”


Reflections of the Soul

Arabella didn’t like mirrors.
She didn’t primp and she didn’t preen, despite her perfect face with its pristine complexion, or her soft blond hair with its ideal curls. She avoided her reflection as often as possible.
“Such a vain thing,” she’d say with a laugh. “I have better things to do.”
Perhaps she did. Arabella did like to dabble in things dark and unseemly.
Her nature, really. She liked to pretend otherwise, but nature won out. Especially in the mirror.
There her true face reflected back at her, all three hundred years, and all the wear of being a witch.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

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