Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She lingered on the most painful words, as if staying with them might rob them of their power. Her story brought me back to the days of horror that left me in ruins. The days of my childhood before my world was crushed into fine dust. Seated on the window-ledge in the moonlight, she spoke of memories I tried to forget. Memories I'd confined to nightmares. I scowl at the beautiful woman. How dare she remind me.
The woman takes a deep breath, struggling to relive the painful memory of when my parents and sister were murdered. Or so I assumed, but suddenly her demeanor shifts. She purses her lips and eyes me with anticipation. I could have never imagined what happens next, I'm not that creative.
With dark magic her cheeks drip like wax from a candle. Her skin pools beneath her chin as her shimmering blue gown unravels into a worn black cloak and drapes over her body. The strand of pearls that once hung elegantly from a slender neck bubbles into a necklace of soiled toes tucked under her double chin. I blink furiously as her face bunches into thick wrinkles, even the rose-red tint in her lips fades to a muted grey. At first I was attracted to her, but now I struggle to swallow the vomit rising in my throat.
"Yer parents weren' just murdered, laddie." The old hag slurs with a thick Scottish accent, all the sadness in her voice dissolved during her transformation. "They were hunted." Her lips raise into something like a smile, revealing curiously white teeth. She plops from her perch in the window, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. Life is not kind to anyone, yet it seems that she faced hardships worse than most. But that doesn't excuse her for disturbing me in my family's chateau tonight.
I scoff, stepping back. "I don't have to listen to this. Guards!" My wavering voice echos down the dim hall and corridors, but footsteps never come running. She glides in front of me, herding me towards the end of the hall. "What do you want?" I plead. "Food? Money? I will give you both if you just leave–"
"It's yer blood." She shines her pearly teeth, then flicks her tongue like a snake. "We thinks it tastes the best on our lips. Soothes our aching bones." The old woman glides closer, limping into the dim candle light. My nose crinkles as the yellow glow reveals dried blood and slick, black grease in her clothes and hair. A dark mold grows across the edges of the fabric and onto her skin, twisting around her left eye. What should have been the whites of her eyes is glazed a sickening yellow. But worse than anything else, is the stench. A foul odor of flesh rotting in a swamp violates my nose and burns my throat with every breath.
"That's...That's ridiculous!" I shriek, darting my eyes nervously, searching for a way to run or a window to jump through. My heart drops with realization. She came through the only window in this hall, and the door at the end is always locked. The hag had to come tonight! The night of my parent's murder. The only night I ever visit this side of the house. As I step back, she steps forward, like a couple locked in a lethal dance. She stops. My back presses against the door. Furiously, I slide my hands over the wood, knowing I dare not turn to look for the doorknob.
