They say that predators seize every opportunity to receive what they desire no matter the cost. The world was right to believe that predators would go many lengths to lure their prey... but the world was wrong and beyond ignorant to believe predators only came in one form.
Witches are far worse than any predator. When they choose their prey, there is nothing to stop them from taking what they want. Witches, unlike any human predator, never get caught. Witches lurk in our society, hiding within ordinary clothing, ordinary jobs, and ordinary towns. Witches appear to be normal, pretty women at first glance, but their grotesque nature is always bubbling within them. Every grin, every fake, polite gesture, is a distraction. It is an illusion, built so that their victims won't run away or call for help when a witch decides to pounce. To a witch, no desire can compare to their hatred for children. No ugly idea is too weak, and no child will escape from their doom. A real witch will plan and plot for years on end just to destroy a handful of their prey. Whether it be transforming them into something else, like a mouse perhaps, or getting rid of them the old fashioned way with a bar of chocolate laced with poison. Real witches don't use knifes or guns, that's how human predators get caught. Alas, a witch is not the same as a clumsy old human. We're far smarter than that.
Real witches, at least the smarter witches, such as myself, could get away with anything we put our malicious little minds to. Being the ruler of thousands, hundreds of witches over every continent, every country, every dark crevice, I was beginning to think the world forgot that predators such as myself existed. Humans didn't recognize us anymore after a couple of centuries. The world of humans seemed to completely rid themselves of our existence. I supposed that was a good thing at the time. But then... it happened. I got so lenient with my work that I allowed that small... incident to take place.
I had hatched a brilliant plan. Every child in England would be squished, disappearing from my sight and my nostrils. Children smell worse than dog's droppings on a hot day, might I add. Babies smell even worse, and believe me it isn't the diapers. Anyway, this wonderful plan of mine was to have each and every witch open various candy shops where the chocolate had a special little ingredient added. I called it Formula 86, mouse-maker! I planned to share this idea with my subjects, my fellow child exterminators. (As imprudent and vile as they were) They applauded me, of course. How could they not? I was so thrilled to see at least thousands of children fall victim to my brilliance. It filled me with joy, cleansing my soul to know that the next morning, when I was eating my breakfast, looking out at the beach, there would be nothing but the beautiful sound of silence. Then it happened.
That... that old hag, that good-for-nothing woman that had escaped from me sixty years ago had RUINED MY WORK!!!! She and that little vermin of a child had turned my idea against me. I'll spare you the horrid details of my escape from that wretched hotel. After all, this isn't the whimsical story about that wretched brat that got away from me. This is a story about me, about how I lost my charming edge, gained a few imbeciles to befriend, and met the one handsome imbecile that dared to challenge me. It began shortly after the incident... back at my lair. I have several lairs, one in every country depending on where I choose to stay. My main home lies in Norway since that was where I was born. I liked to move around, however. This house, for example, was a decent sized house on the west side of London, where I was calmly, temporarily treating my failure with the same ease any mature adult would've handled it with.
"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING WORMS!!! HOW DARE THEY HUMILIATE ME LIKE THAT?! THIS WAS THEIR FAILURE! Miserable witches I can't count on! They let those wretched brats sabotage me! THEY COULD SLIP INTO SOMETHING MORE COMFORTABLE THAN AN ETERNAL NAP FOR ALL I CARE!!!" I screamed into my pillow, pounding my ungloved claws into the mattress until they ripped through the dark purple fabric like an animal. My curly blonde wig had been thrown off my head, allowing it to breathe whilst my makeup smeared. Liebchen, my dear, sophisticated, black cat was locked away in that carrying case he was so fond of. I would've fed him, but I believed he needed some discipline after trying to kill me when I had accidentally fell victim to my own creation and transformed into a mouse. The fur ball would've eaten me alive if I hadn't had an emergency antidote stashed in my suitcase.
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As Long as Somebody Loves You
FanfictionShe's the most powerful, most dangerous woman that hides in our society. She's the root of all evil, planning day and night to rid the world of all children. Most importantly, she is the ruler of the witches. However, after being outsmarted by a cer...
