May's anthology

Revenge is a dish best served cold

In the darkest of nights, when even the street lights couldn't chase away the dark, a bolt of lightning flashed, revealing a woman dressed in white.

The fact that she was dressed in white was not the strangest thing about her, the fact that she was dripping wet although the rain hadn't started yet was.

Her eyes had a distant yet determined look as she stalked down the dark street with lightning following close behind like a loyal friend.

As she moved ahead, she kept mumbling under her breath while her long hair was whipped by the strong wind. Had anyone been close enough to hear her, they might have been able to catch the words 'revenge' and 'finally'.

Reaching a beautiful villa, surrounded by a huge garden, the woman changed course and went towards the front door with purpose in her step.

With the loud crash of thunder, the front door flew open only to reveal the flustered resident spooked by the oncoming storm.

"What are you doing in my house?" The man screamed.

The woman said nothing. She just started approaching him. When she was close enough for him to be able to see her pale complexion and lifeless eyes, his eyes became wide open.

She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was water. Then, more quickly than the man could have predicted, she got her hands around his neck and snapped it like a twig.

Upon doing that, she disappeared like she was never there.

The next morning the man's wife found the body and the message written on the wall.

'Mary Smythe witch, drowned October 31, 1654'

The woman looked at the calendar nearby only to note that it was October 31, 2019. Knowing her husband's family history she knew that the woman his ancestors had executed had come to settle the score.