A forest gleamed in the scene, just above a sunny horizon.
A lady in white soared passed the rays of gold and landed broom first on the soft road of her private grass field holding a basket of flowers.
Her heels clank the grass with a clunk while her toes click with a smack to the moist soil.
Her wart twitches on the nose when the sweet smell of pollen rises to the troposphere.
Her eyes dart to the shiny front door.
The lady in white opens the door to her log cabin coated in magic paint.
A paint that will keep her cabin immortal.
A paint that will keep her cabin in tact forever.
A paint that will keep her safe from all dangers past eternity.
The cabin was coated head to toe in crystal clear white.
Nobody knew what she was up to.
Nobody needed to know what she was up to.
Or did they?
She brewed.
She cooked.
And she swept with her vehicle.
The lady took all day to do her tasks, and realized she had to go grocery shopping soon.
And the lady was scared.
She brewed a potion of sweet berry goodness.
She cooked a pot of delicious magic truffle roast for dinner.
She swept her floors for every last bit of stardust lying around.
And she still came up empty like a pod without peas.
She added her creations to her shelf to display, perhaps a garage sale would be a nice place to show off to her cunning town folks.
The same folks who lynched Mrs. Debra last week for being a "witch".
"I'm not a witch". She would tell herself.
"I'm a good person". She would talk to herself in the mirror that talked back to her.
"Yes, I am a good person indeed. My magic only brings light and blooms to the flowers in the spring. My momma raised no witch."
She knew she would have to leave her house soon.
She didn't want to think about that.
The risk.
People thought of her as a nice woman.
But she didn't care.
She didn't care what anyone thought of her.
She was simply afraid of being killed by them.
To fall ill-sworn to their red deceptive hands.
The real monsters of this world taking the form of white mortals.
Perhaps selling some "antiques" and "recipes" would interest the town folks and convince them she is not crazy all by herself in nature's grasses.
These woods of the greenest leaves and the most tropical of views all thanks to her.
The lady was scared.
The lady in white walked a painstakingly four miles to the west.
She brought her homemade basket brewed fresh from a materialistic potion.
