"Anything else, dear?"
Sabrina politely refused Mrs Taylor's offer with that sweet smile that could only belong to her. It was that gracious giggle that made the young lady famous in town, even when she rarely appeared down here. Her house is somewhere near the woods, the young boys say. It was the sole thing her father left her with, says the older fellas in the armchairs. And yes, to have stories told about you can be exciting. But not always.
"Oh, and I could use a broom, Mrs Taylor. The old one leaves more dust than it sweeps."
And that was the moment when everything changed. Mrs Taylor, who had been busy totalling all the prices despite her poor mathematical skills, gazed up at her in shock. The young boy, fiddling around with the worn-out bicycle tires, stood still as his tires rolled down the stairs to the harbour. The senior gentleman, busy scanning the papers beside her, no longer cared about the headlines. Clearly, they just beheld the beginnings of the forthcoming big news in town.
Even as Sabrina left the store, no longer wearing her adorable smile, she could feel the stares. How can someone feel those eyes? She doesn't know, but those eyes pierced right through her skin. The broom stood projected out of her little jute basket, and no one hid their suspicions as she walked to the edge of the town. Sabrina could hear the faint whispers amidst the cacophonies of the busy street. And for some reason, she knew they were talking about her.
Sabrina walked a little faster, feeling a growing sense of uneasiness clawing about her insides. Unfortunately, this only adds to the suspicions of the piercing eyes. She could now hear their breath. Perhaps if the town was quieter, she could have listened to their heartbeats too. Soon enough, she could hear the footsteps following her in stealth, closing in for the day's prey.
And before Sabrina could restrain herself, her legs took off, attempting their best to carry their keeper to the safety of her home. The jute basket slipped off into the gutter, soaking her favourite cookies in the swamp. But she couldn't care any less.
Of course, the home could not keep her safe. But sometimes, it seems to be the solution to everything. Returning home. But in those nefarious eyes, it was no longer a home. It was a coven. And Sabrina, a witch. Their prey. The one to burn while they relax and watch.
"Burn her." There never was much Sabrina could do. Apparently, the young man, whose love she refused, had seen her cooking potions. Smoke billowing out of her little coven. And another little girl who had seen her in her nightmares. All she could do was beg, and she did. But the men took the decision for the Gods, and how could she prove them wrong?
The young man was smirking as she got carried away by the relentless guards. The little girl sneaked behind her mother, unwilling to listen to the pleads of a witch. One day, they might take her away too. She doesn't know. In the name of God, they say. How could one kill an innocent girl in the name of God?
She doesn't know, but as she felt the fire melting her skin, she realised it. Her father loved the legends of the lost kings and their declining realms. They perch helplessly on their thrones when the Wicked takes over. In the name of the King, they say. But the King would have long lost his hopes on bringing happiness back to his kingdom. He just shuts his eyes and says it's dark. Sabrina wouldn't blame him. There wasn't much he could do.
Even as the young lady could feel Life doing its best to hold on to her, she was perplexed. Who was more terrifying? The King or the Wicked?
I got a long explanation to make, haven't I? *innocent lauughter* Well, to start off, I am in college! As if that justifies everything XD Well, I messed up. I guess that's pretty evident when it's about me *facepalm* But yeah. Well, technically, life messed up way better than I did this time around, so I guess I did okay XD Anyway, I will try to come up more often from now on. And yes, this story will (from now on) hold the record of the fastest story I have ever written ^-^ It took me about... an hour? An hour and a half? Well, definitely not a week or longer, as it normally is XD I hope you guys like the story. Missed you all too much!!! Warm hugs everywhere ^0^ <3 <3 <3
#fiction, not the last part (:
The Women of Abelard Wood
Mother was raped in the village of Abelard seventeen years ago. Three village men took her during one of her rare ventures into town, herding her into an abandoned barn where they took turns at her. For hours, long after the men were physically capable of intercourse, they restrained and abused her, sodomizing her with the rough, splintered handles of farm implements when they could find nothing else. In their drunken revelry they even gave a goat a try, the three of them standing back and laughing as it’s cloven hooves gripped at her hips so that it might more voraciously hump her, an indignation whose penetrations her battered and bloodied body no longer contained the strength to prevent. Well I knew the story. It was this story that blackened my heart, having heard it my life long.
Surley and dark lie Abelard’s Wood, damp and fetid it’s soil. Stagnant ponds and bayou swamps create a crooked maze of unexplored fingers of land which stretch tentatively forth through the black water, into the putrid air, and on up to the dank canopy above. After that day in the barn it was here that Mother crawled, finding in the solitude of The Abelard Wood a refuge, a sanctuary, and a home, and so have I made it my home as well.
We learned the woods, Mother and I, and came to love them, over time. They sheltered us, fed us, and clothed us. From it’s depths we lived day to day, gathering herbs, mushrooms, snakes, lizards, frogs, and even small mammals, adding each to a stew which boils ceaselessly to this day; a stew endlessly changing in flavors, and textures, odors and powers, but which never, ever cools. That was our law of the forest, Mother’s and mine, that the fire must always burn, else the dark and the wet take everything given us back.
Mother is gone now, her pain over, destroyed by her very home. Like everything in the swamp, it eventually took her, too; rotting away her skin, molding it to a green cast with poisonous boils leeching from the most uncomfortable places, but she bore it well, even as it bent and racked her. She would reassure me as I applied poultices dipped from the hallucinogenic stew. “It is nothing,” she would say, “to the pain inflicted by man.”
To that end, we gained her revenge. Many is the lost child, the wandering maid, the wood-cutter gone missing from the village, ne’er to be seen again. Many is the time that the stew changed in texture, and smell, and flavor. Many is the night we stood over the pot, adding fuel to it’s fire while singing the old songs, the barely remembered songs, the songs that change like the stew, growing ever stronger as we tasted.
I am alone now; young, and painfully different. Though consumed with hatred for the village men, they have something I need, something I long for, and can get nowhere else. I need a seed, and must take one from between the legs of one who lives there, so I lurk now at the wood’s edge, a shadow watching the village road, and waiting.
That I have the bait to lure, I know. There is beauty in my face, despite it’s jaded hue. I have seen it in the eyes of those destined for the pot. I have seen it in their drugged lusts, but their erections fail upon sight of the cloven hooves on my lower half. But I will catch some unwary one, as the black widow catches one. I will lure him with what he wants, allowing him to see only that. I will give him his moment of ecstasy. I will hide the truth in potions and robes until it is too late, and he has given what I need from him... and then I will devour him, saving his loins to nourish the child that he leaves, but it is not easy. Many have I lured, and many have I lost, a few of them at the very moment of passion, when the seed was bubbling, and the blood boiling. Something tips them at the very end as to their fate, though I know not what? But I will know. I am young, and there is time. Their are other men, and more will come. I will call to those men with songs they long to hear. I will tease them, and toy with them, and feed them the broth. I will lie atop them with the nails of my fingers digging into their skin, and my hooves clinging to their waists. I will bite their necks, and pump their groins until one of them gives me what it is I need...
Some days go by with out any visitors those are the best for Collen. Being able to remember her life before the witch stole her from her home keeps her going. Now Collen must do as the witch tells her or her sister at home will suffer.
Agnus as she likes to be called tricked Collen into following her into the forest. With sorcery Collen believed she heard a baby crying and went to see. Now the witch took her and hid her from the rest of the world.
Everything became clear to her after a few days of being imprisoned in the witch cottage. The witch needed someone to mix her potions and give them to her chosen. It seemed so unfair to Collen why did the witch spare her and not the others. Each time Collen was told which child to get next Angus would remind her that the sisters she left could be next.
Agnus was only given more life power and strength if she gave sacrifices to the evil that called her. This evil thing could never get enough, and the witch was becoming tired and weak. Collen was finding ways to loosen the spell that was cast on her. This all could come to an end finally. Having to get more and more sacrifices was making the witch forgetful and frazzled.
As they were putting together the potion Collen was able to leave out some of the ingredients. So Collen made a very brave choice. She told the witch that if she wanted even more power and evil that her sisters were what the evil really wanted.
Now the plan for freedom came into place. Unaware that the potion wasn't going to work Angus forced Collen to go poison her sisters. Walking away from the cottage and the horrible screams of children being feed to the darkness Collen knew this was her only chance. As was the custom a disguise was put on her so when she was seen nobody recognized her.
Getting her sisters to act quickly and victoriously was the only thing on her mind. Cautious she coaxed her sisters towards the woods. She knew that everything she said could be heard. Taking off her disguise the sister were shocked and confused. As quickly and convincingly as possible Collen explained everything to them. The p!an was to return to the cottage and poison the witch.
Nothing would ever change as long as the witch was alive. Collen offered the witch a cool glass of water just too keep her strong for The sacrifice of the children. As soon as she drank it she feel to the ground. Becoming unconscious Angus was put in the flaming pit meant for sacrifices. Her screams were the proof that she was dieing. With the witch gone there was another thing that needed to be done. The book of spells had to be destroyed. They threw it into the pit this cause moans and cursing the book seemed to be alive.
Nothing was going to prepare these three sisters to what they saw next. All of the children that were meant to bring power to the witch and the evil master came out of the flaming pit. The children in their numbers of thousands tore the witch to shreds she was unrecognizable. The evil was seen limbing away into the dense forest. Only not before he growled showing his teeth and eyes. Collen knew that she was free to go with her sisters. Puting the witch under her own spell severed any and all bonds the witch and the evil had over her.
Collen held onto her sisters as they began to walk away. This may be over for all of them now but they knew it was always out there. Just as they were nearing the clearing of the forest. Collen thought she saw a little girl being tricked to go into the forest.