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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