Vanessa didn’t understand why her new stepmother hated her so. She did understand that the hatred had led to her being in a wood of evil on the way to the most feared witch in her region of the land. Oh, sure.
She had been spit balling ideas of who to interview for the most recent edition of Mythgnomers and Insprites, but that was no reason to suggest such a dangerous subject
It was entirely besides the point that her editor wanted an excessive unusualness in this month’s case study, and Baba Yaga had never been successfully interviewed, or that her deadline was in three days and the big bad wolf wasn’t returning her spirit calls professionally. There really was no reason for him to laugh like a hyena on the recording crystal the messenger service had provided her.
This was entirely her own fault, she supposed. Now she was in this creepy forest trying to find a giant hut that reportedly moved around according to its own whims on chicken legs the same size as the great marble columns that stood outside city hall.
Sighing in discontent at her current fate, Vanessa trudged deeper into the forest. She tried to stay on the game trails as much as she could, that goblin at the edge of the forest really had been helpful selling those charms of pixie protection. The three knights in front of her seemed satisfied at least. The three were oddly dressed head to toe in red, white, and black but not murdering the goblin as a charlatan so she took this as a good sign.
He had sworn on the enchanter’s guild seal that it would keep the forest sprites from messing with her for at least two sunrises. Nobody could fake that seal…right? It was supposed to glow red when someone lied about an enchantment and that ominous glow from the seal had been more purple than red, right? If the goblin looked nervous that was a trait typical of their race and she shouldn’t be judgmental about it. She had signed what she thought was the standard waiver then taken the proffered amulet.
Who reads those things anyway?
Vanessa heard several giggles echoing from the woods just out of her sight to the right of the path and started swearing, soft enough that she wouldn’t be heard…she hoped. She looked around at the brush on the sides of the trail but couldn’t spot any of the pixies nearby. Which meant almost nothing.
Upping the pace of her trudge to an ambitious shuffle she headed away from the giggling off of the path. As her feet left the trail a soft tremble thrummed beneath her feet through the ground all around her. Gulping she took a step back onto the faint game trail and the ground thrummed again, harder. The giggling had stopped. All noises had stopped except the thrumming.
She panicked and started sprinting back down the way she had come onto this trail, towards what she hoped was safety. The thrumming didn’t keep pace with her steps, coming every third stride of her short, little legs as they carried her away from potential mischief by the pixies. Her panicked breathing didn’t stop her from chanting under her breath one of the only small spell of protection she knew,
“Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope!”
There, seven repetitions aught to help at least a little. Was that thrumming getting more violent? That’s the not pixies, or at least it isn’t them anymore.
She thought.
She had reached the clearing of at the end of the game trail and spotted the broken branches she had placed to mark the next trail back towards where she had entered the forest. Slowing not a whisker, she continued towards the next trail as echoes of large branches and trunks of trees cracking then shattering behind her her rang through the forest.
Maybe the strongest one she knew would be helpful? She had nothing else so she tried it as she sprinted down the next trail,
“Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE! Fuck, NOPE!”
The crashing of trees grew louder still the sound, the thrumming started to throw off her stride. Approaching the end of the longer second trail she only had one more clearing, one more trail, and a small creek to jump before she was back to the main road. She hoped on the open road she would be able to out ace whatever the pixies had obviously let get out of hand. She would be writing a strongly worded letter to the enchanters guild about that waiver she had signed before accepting the amulet from that damn goblin shyster.
Reaching the next clearing in conjunction with what felt like an earthquake sent her sprawling into it and skidding on her face in the dirt.
Ow…wait, did it stop?
Pushing her self up she looked at the clearing she was in.She did’t remember those yellow trees in this clearing. Did shetake the wrong trail?
A thunder clap issued forth from above the clearing, enormous, startling, and strange in its tone of questioning,
“BAAAAAAAAAWWWWWK?!?”
An answering distant shout came, tinny in diminutive reply,
“No! You damn, great idiot! You did not do good! No biscuit! I was brewing something delicate when you started bobbing about like your tail feathers were on fire! It’s ruined! Give me a reason not to conjure a cauldron big enough to fry you!”
A much chastened but no softer reply came,
“BAWWWK…”
A significant pause came as Vanessa trembled, looking up at the…house? Those rumors had something true behind them, it seems. She wondered if Mobile real estate gets hungry,
The voice called back,
“I don’t care if what you smelled was delicious! I’ve told you again and again not to uproot when I’m brewing!”
Vanessa was used to odd sights as a reporter for Mythgnomers and Insprites, considering their niche market demographic in a magical land, weird was what her readers wanted. She would need to take some memory images or no one would believe how she described the sight before her.
What she had taken for trees were the legs of a mindbogglingly large chicken…house… thing. The basic form of the chicken was there. Taloned feet, black feathers with white speckles, yellow beak, wings flapping in agitation as someone in bright colored robes hung out of a window on it’s neck smacking it on the side of the head with a broom, yelling obscenities. Okay, maybe that last part wasn’t the norm for a chicken’s form or function.
There were windows spaced unevenly along the body and neck, with a door under the tail feathers. The flapping wings had doors under them as well. The bird was also wearing what looked like a pareu made of over sized white painted stakes. The giant…
What should she call this thing? A chicouse?
Whatever she decided to call it the giant chicouse’s agitation at being swatted upside the head by what looked to be a cast iron skillet duct taped to the handle of the aforementioned broom, was increasing. It started dancing back and forth trying to get away from the punishment to an accompanied crashing of what sounded like crockery from within it.
The figure swatting it ducked back inside and a scream sounded from within followed by a tirade of commands,
“That was the truffle butter you damn, bird brained, louse infested, moron of a house! Sit! Stay! Or foreclosure is gonna happen right quick!”
The chicouse let out an indignant,
“BAWK!”
Then settled quickly to the ground, it’s gigantic legs folding underneath it. As the form sank to the ground what Vanessa had taken as an over sized pareu, one of those hawaian grass skirt thingies but made out of white saplings, uncoiled from around it and formed into a rather smart looking picket fence. Its wings extended into a semblance of awnings covering a cute deck along the one side of the bird facing her. The pareu had been hiding some kind of contraption that unfolded along with the fence.
In moments the vast, mobile, poultry fortress had transformed into a quaint but adorable cottage, with it’s head tucked under the opposite wing. Even if it was fowl themed Vanessa wouldn’t have minded having one just like it near her grandparents lake cottage. The feathers looked like good insulation for the winter.
Distracted by the chicken taking a more homey form, Vanessa didn’t notice the figure clambering down from the side door in a huff.
The unsettlingly large chicken house had an unsettlingly large occupant who was now glaring down at Vanessa with a storm faced expression. She had not expected the beard on a witch of legend. With a hesitant voice Vanessa asked,
“Baba Yaga?”
The large, flamboyantly robed, bearded, upset figure threw back the cowl and yelled.
“Bubba Yaga! Mom’s on vacation! Who the hells are you and why are you wearing that!?”
Bubba pointed a shaking finger at the amulet hanging around Vanessa’s neck in accusation.
“That lure of monstrosities had this damn Base-ment-lisk running all over this damnable forest, ruining the prince’s order! This will set me back weeks!”
Vanessa goggled.
“The goblin at the edge of the forest swore it would keep the pixies away from me! They swore on the enchanters seal!”
Bubba snorted in derision and snarked at her.
“Oh, aye. It’ll keep the pixies at bay, by luring in something they’re terrified of. It lures a monstrosity to you, fool girl! I suppose you bought more than one and scattered them on your path? To make sure your way out was safe? I’m sure that’s why Clarence was running back and forth, instead of straight to you.”
Vanessa smirked before snarking right back.
“Wrong! I bought one, yes, but the other three were snagged by some knights ahead of me in line! They each wore one into the forest ahead of me! Strange colors they chose though. Monochrome white, red, and black. I don’t recognize those house colors.”
Vanessa thought back to another statement she had missed,
“And who’s Clarence?”
A muffled yet still enormous,
“BAWK!”
Came from the now still, giant chicouse, answering her query.
Bubba, rubbing his temples with either hand, trying to stave off a migraine answered anyway,
“Clarence,”
“BAWK!”
Bubba sighed and continued,
“Is the Base-ment-lisk behind me, a class two monstrosity, the apple of my mother’s eye, and the source of most of my migraines, though from the sounds of it I have those asshole’s who drive me crazy; Morning, Noon, and Night to thank for this one that’s coming on.”
Vanessa was confused by this statement, she asked,
“What assholes who drive you crazy all day?”
Bubba stared at Vanessa and said,
“Would you like to help me with one of my mother’s recipes? It won’t be hard. How long can you sit still? How would you like a nice brine-I mean, bath?”
Vanessa chose to ignore the offer of being cooked and switched tacks,
“Never mind that, I’m trying to reach Baba Yaga for an interview in Mythgnomers and Insprites, when will she be returning from vacation? And what is the best way to reach her?”
Bubba snorted again, flashed a smile that was blinding in it’s whiteness. Turning his back to Vanessa and starting towards the chicouse,
“She cooked the last ‘journalist’ who tried to ‘interview’ her That was my Da, by the way.”
Interview and journalist was said with air quotes over his head as he retreated up the steps,
“Well, you’re here now, might as come in and we’ll get your questions sorted out. I’ll put on the kettle, this family doesn’t talk without something to wet the whistle. Come on girl, before Noon gets here to mess up the day.”
Bubba went into the home. Vanessa dickered in the side yard for a moment or two, questioning how good she was at making life choices, before her reluctant feet led her up the steps and into the infamous witch’s house. Anything for the story, as her editor kept telling her.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Upon entering the house Vanessa was surprised at the spacious layout and quaint decor of the room. A tasteful area rug was flanked on either side by comfy looking couches. A stylish dark wood coffee table with some gorgeous inlay made for a convenient surface between the couches without over powering the room. She felt like this would be an ideal space for entertaining as the other end of the room led through a cutout window looking in on what was the kitchen. If the host was so inclined they could speak with guests while preparing a meal.
The side wall on the right led into what looked like a small dining room with seating for eight and a set of stairs leading up into the,
House? Chicken?
She wasn’t sure what to call this place, still. She thought he had called it a Base-ment-lisk?
Along one side of the dining room was a display table with different curios with neat placards Vanessa couldn’t read from where she was standing. She spied a massive conch shell, a rusted cleaver sticking out of a stained wooden block, a shining bag covered with what looked like tiny pearls, and a much plainer, hairy, leather bag that was stained a crimson red.
Vanessa recognized the conch as one of the more expensive communicator models sold by the Sally’s Communication Corps, down in Seaside City. The cleaver, she expected she knew its purpose, but then, she was in a giant chicken house talking to the son of a witch with a reputation for eating people.
Who was she kidding? It’s a cleaver Vanessa, and that looks more like blood than rust what’s with the hairy sack?
Bubba was bustling in the kitchen putting a kettle onto the stove and strapping it down to the stove top. He looked over at her entry, gave three sharp raps against the wall with a sauce spoon and said,
“You should sit, Clarence is always rough starting out.”
Vanessa opened her mouth to ask what Bubba was talking about and tumbled to the floor as the room gave a violent lurch upwards. The whole chicouse was shaking side to side as if it were running.
Not as if, it is running.
She scrambled to one of the couches, which she now could see were bolted to the floor, and climbed into it. Finding a convenient and stylish belt attached at each cushion she strapped herself to the couch and tried to get used to the swaying room. She was starting to feel queasy at the movement when the Base-ment-lisk seemed to find it’s stride. The pronounced sway was greatly reduced and her stomach quieted.
Bubba chose that moment to come into the living room and set out a service for two on the table. Serving plates, saucers, and teacups.
On closer inspection Vanessa saw that the gorgeous inlay of the coffee table was functional too. The pattern concealed that there were sunken receptacles for plates and drinks to be placed into, for when the chicouse was moving. Clever little arms swung out from either side of the recess to hold the plate or drink in place.
“Gorgeous device and decor in that one, I like it.”
Vanessa commented as he finished setting out scones and took a seat across from her. Vanessa could tell Bubba was pleased by the compliment with a too bright smile. He tried to play it off as with his reply,
“Mom says I’m too nice to guests. Her words, ‘Courtesy spices the meat strangely, deary.’”
This was followed by a rather feminine sounding cackle ending in an embarrassed cough before Bubba continued while red faced,
“I keep telling her we would get more customers for our work if we ate less of them but she just goes on a rant about not having to charge so much if we get our meals from a renewable resource. It’s a circular argument since I say we cant charge the customers we eat.”
Vanessa slowed her chewing and took another look at the scone she had been scarfing,
“Is this…?”
Bubba shook with laughter and started shaking his head. His too white teeth giving a flash of pearlescent glee from within the magnificent bush of a beard,
“Oh, no. How would I even use part of a body to make scones? Though I suppose I could try the fat instead of butter…”
Bubba’s smile faded as he gazed with disturbing intensity at Vanessa in thought. Trying to ignore how much of a bad idea it had been to come here for a story,
Vanessa tucked her arms across her belly for scant protection. After placing the scone back on the plate in front of her she responded to the gruesome statement.
“Right, well. We seem to have gone astray from the subject at…that is, I think we got off on the wrong…”
Bubba smirked at her fumbling and folded his arms in content, waiting for her to finish the statement.
This tack is going nowhere, change it girl,
“My name is Vanessa White, no relation, and I am a writer from Mythgnomers and Insprites. We pride ourselves on getting to the other side of the story in all of the legends throughout our land,”
She used her hands to gesture air quotes appropriately in the next part of her sales pitch,
“We just did a marvelous job on the ‘Wicked’ witch of the west. It turns out the ‘wonderful’ wizard that was her former employer had started a smear campaign against her. We sorted that out and even were able to get some evidence for her to use in the defamation lawsuit against him. We’ve been hearing rumors we might be able to help your family as well. Would you be able to comment on those?”
Bubba uncrossed his arms and leaned forward looking interested as he responded,
“Well now, a re-branding pitch, I wasn’t expecting that. Isn’t your paper about finding truth though? We Yaga’s can’t lie, you know. We’d lose more than the lie would be worth.”
Vanessa cocked her head and asked,
“Can’t? Or have a reputation for not?”
Bubba shook his shaggy head,
“Can’t. To prove it, I’ll stop alluding to or dancing around what you seem to be digging towards. There is no light in which you could cast my family that our reputation would become shiny and new. We eat people. Less than some believe, but we do.”
He paused here to gauge her reaction before continuing.
“We don’t lie because that would weaken our power to do as we wish, when we wish. There are many reasons some of the rich and powerful still come to us for potions and remedies, even with the risk we might put them in the next brew.
Momma likes it that way, and as much as I try to argue there is a better way, she is Baba Yaga, she decides the fate of our family. I’d tell you to ask my Da about that, but she ate him for uppity disagreement.”
Vanessa listened with all attention to Bubba’s words, blanching at the end. Her professionalism encouraged her to continue the interview even when she had some trouble starting the next sentence,
“T-then why are you entertaining this discussion?”
Bubba shrugged his massive shoulders and replied,
“You’re the first person to try to find us outside of one of the royals, I don’t get much company to talk too. I thought it would be nice to talk to someone besides Clarence,”
The house trembled as Clarence commented,
“BAWK.”
It was very odd to be inside the creature making such a racket. Bubba seemed unphased, continuing,
“Hush, Clarence. You know your limits as well as I do, and don’t interrupt. Momma taught you better than that.”
He turned his attention back to Vanessa,
“Incidentally, if momma comes home, be polite and she may not eat you. If she gives you a task to complete, do your honest best to complete it and she may give you that interview you want, and you may even live to write it out.”
A rattling noise came from the dining room to her right, Vanessa jumped at the sound, her nerves frazzled from the conversation. The room lurched violently. As it settled back into a smoother rhythm, Bubba had used the motion to swing himself to his feet. Striding towards the dining room he said,
“Excuse me, that’s mother calling to check in now. Please enjoy the scones, the water for tea will be done shortly, I’ll at least make sure you get a last meal if she is too upset at you visiting her baby boy unchaperoned. This shouldn’t take me long.”
Vanessa stared numbly at his back. Reaching forward with a shaking hand she picked up the scone she had nibbled at, cramming it into her mouth she strained to listen.
Bubba had reached the curio table, picking up the conch he placed the opening next to his head. It didn’t seem that large in his own formidable hands. Speaking into it she heard him say,
“Hello, momma…Yes, we have a guest. Morning, Noon, and Night seem to be having fun at our expense again with the goblin trader’s help…He sold them all lures…She was caught up in it, told her it would keep the pixie’s away.…”
Bubba yanked the conch away from his head as a loud cackling issued from the opening. Wincing, he put it back to his ear and continued the conversation.
“She’s been very polite. She’s a writer for a paper and wanted to interview you…No, she’s not uppity like Da was…It seems like she wants to get the story from our side of the fearsome reputation you’ve built for the family…Yes, momma….No, momma…
There was a much longer pause before Vanessa heard anything from Bubba’s end of the conversation,
“Of course, momma, I’ll get started as soon as we hang up…,”
He glanced over his shoulder at Vanessa then whispered into the conch in a voice so soft Vanessa almost didn’t hear him,
“I love you too, momma.”
Bubba placed the conch back on the curio table and strode briskly back into the living room. The kettle in the kitchen started screaming steam. Bubba changed his route from the couch and fetched the kettle off of the stove. Putting some tea leaves into a strainer he placed it into a flowery blue tea pot and carefully poured hot water into it. He brought the tea pot to the table, placing it into the recess built into the inlay for it.
Bubba cleared his throat, nervous as a cat in a cat sausage factory, and sat across from her again before speaking,
“That was momma. She is not pleased to have an uninvited guest while she is on vacation. She hopes to be here before Night arrives, and she wanted me to set you a series of tasks to be completed before she arrives. It’s to show how much attention to detail you would take with your words after any interview she might be willing to give you.”
Vanessa’s voice trembled only a little as she replied,
“If I fail or refuse them?”
Bubba’s smile was out of place with cheer as he responded,
“I get to start on a welcome home meal for momma. You will not enjoy the experience.”
Vanessa laughed before replying, it was the stress she thought,
“Well then, shall we get started on these tasks? I would hate to disappoint.”
Bubba smiled too brightly grabbed the tea pot out of its recess and poured them each a portion into the cup put out earlier. The too bright smile kept the creep factor going as he said,
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t set you a task she considers impossible. You should be able to finish them before night arrives. He usually gets here before you know it, but you have time.”
Vanessa was starting to think she wanted to meet Baba Yaga less than she had anticipated. Damn her for using guilt to get her into this.. If she got out of this she would feed her stepmother to this family.
She could see Bubba was waiting for her to pick up her tea.
She mumbled.
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather get started.”
Bubba nodded at her words then said,
“Glad to hear that, finish your tea. It will help.”
She didn’t think he would let the point go, so she picked up the cup in front of her and gulped down the still steaming liquid. The pain almost made her scream as it scalded her mouth. It did not get better as she choked down the burning liquid. Bubba looked startled she had done something so stupid. He commented,
“Angry pixies, woman. This isn’t like the Fae court. We don’t pixie the words of a deal often, or the spirit.”
Vanessa moaned in pain at this. Bubba shook his shaggy head and took a small sip of the tea. He got to his feet, went into the kitchen, and rummaged in the ice box. He snagged a tumbler out of a cupboard, dumped the handful of ice chips into it and brought it to her.
“Eat these, they will help until I can fetch a tincture to heal that nasty burn you just inflicted on yourself.”
Vanessa was in too much pain to speak a response as well as too busy shoveling the ice chips into her mouth. She crunched her way through what he had given her while he went back into the kitchen.
He pulled a small sauce pot from a hanger and placed it on the stove. Grabbing various ingredients from different containers around the kitchen he mixed them into the pot while turning the heat to various settings as he worked.
A few minutes later he strained the contents of the pot through a sieve into a small bottle. It was a bright yellow color, faintly glowing. He held the bottle up and turned it gazing into something Vanessa couldn’t see. Nodding in satisfaction he took the soup spoon from the pot and wrapped on the wall three times. The chicouse jarred, then stopped moving.
He filled another tumbler of ice and brought both to her with a small set of tongs hanging off the lip of the tumbler. He set them both on the table before speaking instructions,
“Pour a drop or three on each piece of ice as you eat it. Do not chew the ice. Do not touch the ice with your bare hands. Use all of the tincture. If you need more ice I will get it for you. Do not stop until the tincture is gone. This is your first task.”
Vanessa stared at him, eyes watering, then nodded her head. She followed the instructions precisely. To her surprise at the first piece of ice the pain faded as soon as she started.
When ever she took more than a second or two between pieces it would start to return with reinforced intensity. She went through five more tumblers of ice before it was gone. By the end her throat no longer threatened to erupt in fiery pain between pieces of ice. The shivering cold that gripped her was almost as bad.
“W-w-what w-w-w-was th-th-that?”
She chattered.
Bubba seemed impressed she had done it in one go, despite his instructions not to stop. He replied,
“Troll piss, oh don’t give me that look it’s just a name. Good job, by the way. Now, we need to get you warm or you’ll die from the hypothermia that tincture causes. Your second task is to light the fireplace. Matches are on the mantle, wood’s in the box next to the hearth. I’ll fetch a blanket. Quickly now, we don’t have much time left.”
Vanessa tried to protest that there wasn’t a fireplace but couldn’t get the words out through chattering teeth. Bubba rolled his eyes in exasperation. Pointing behind her he left the room.
Vanessa turned seeing an over sized hearth in front of where the entrance stood. The iron spit crossing the top of the hearth was stained with the juices from previous roasts that had been placed there. Trying not to think about what had been cooked here before, she stumbled to the hearth. She fumbled the box of matches off the mantle.
She scrambled with numb fingers to open it and saw most of them broken into pieces inside. She was too cold for rage. Expecting the worse she opened the wood box next to the hearth and was further dismayed at the frozen lump of oak logs that greeted her.
She wasn’t too cold to shake from frustration it seemed. She fumbled the frozen block of logs out of the box and tumbled it into place on the stone beneath the spit. She tried with what little dexterity she could muster to light the frozen block with broken matches.
After her seventh attempt she found her rage was able to kindle through the shivers. She screamed at the frozen block. A stream of blue flame issued forth from her mouth at her cry, to her horror. It melted through the ice surrounding the logs and lit the logs in seconds. The wood pile multiplied as the ice fell away. In another handful of seconds the floor of the hearth had been filled with a burning layer of the oak logs.
She was panting as sweat poured down her face. Panic was not much better than the touch of winter that had been inside her. She screamed, thankful there was no fire coming out this time, as something wrapped as tight as a vice around her shoulder’s. Bubba’s voice did not soothe her panic at the situation,
“Second task, well done. For thrice it will be nice. Open this bag.”
He placed the strangely decorated bag from the curio table in her hand. Up close she could see what she had taken for tiny pearls were tiny teeth. She struggled at the knot but could not get it to budge. The extremes of cold and hot had robbed all of her coordination.
Bubba’s large hand rubbed at her back, still not soothing, as he said,
“There, there. This is the last task and she’s almost here, deary.”
Fear, horror, exhaustion, they drove her to putting her own teeth to the knot of the bag and she tugged at it. Little mewling noises and growls escaped her as she tore at the stubborn knot.
It loosened.
Bubba cried out in triumph, snatching the bag from her.
The door at the back of the hearth flung open as the knight dressed in black Vanessa had seen at the goblin’s earlier entered. His booted foot smashed the clean off the hinges into the coals.
Bubba turned to the knight and flung the bag at the knight’s face.
The knight shouted over the flames,
“Fear not! Young maiden, I will-”
Vanessa didn’t find out what he would, the bag puffed out a powder of white and black. The knight clutched at his throat and fell towards the flames, stiffening. He landed on the burning door then rolled into the coals.
Bubba was laughing,
“Thrice and done! Well done, Vanessa! He will be!”
The knight thrashed in the flames for a few minutes as Vanessa cried in front of the flames. At some point Bubba had fetched the cleaver from the curio table. He was standing next to her. Smiling that bright, terrible smile.
Vanessa trembled on the floor in front of the hearth as he dragged the body from the flames. He passed into the kitchen. She heard the thwack of the cleaver, it turned her head against her will to look at the gruesome sight. The knights legs were just visible with his pants around the ankles that stuck into the living room from the kitchen.
There was a dark robed figure sitting on the couch. Vanessa shot to her feet in alarm. The figure was sipping tea from Bubba’s cup with a calm expression, long, beautiful, chestnut hair coming from beneath her cowl. Vanessa glanced towards the door on the other side of the flames.
The hearth was gone, flames and all. The door standing slightly open onto a foggy scene of a clearing. She couldn’t tell what time of day it was.
The woman on the couch in dark robes spoke with a voice as cold as iron,
“My son tells me you may be able to put a positive spin on our hospitality. Won’t you stay for breakfast? Morning’s almost here.”
Vanessa looked at the open door and stepped toward it. She grasped the handle firmly shutting the door. She turned back to the waiting witch
Anything for the story