The Halloween 2012 Post

Enjoying some Spirits, this Halloween night
Enjoying some Spirits, this Halloween night

So, it’s Halloween, and I wrote a little something (I’m at lunch).  But before I post it, I want to post some of the NanoWeen stories I tweeted last year (it’s a twitter thing I found last year, and had some fun with).

From October 31, 2011 (in reverse tweet order):

“The Goth girl disguised as a cheerleader rang the doorbell. Her fake smile hid the joy and anticipation of living her dream”

“His heart beat one last time as the cute girl in the wolf costume ripped it from his chest.”

“The caramel and peanut butter candy he had been offered muffled his screams.”

“Had his bladeless knife not been missing a hilt, he might have been able to defend himself.”

“Every year, the same. But not this year; this year he would wear pants.”

“He looked innocent, but looks can kill . . . so she killed him first.”

“‘Not Again!’ he thought, as the kids threw toilet rolls through his branches.”

“His Black Belt training kicked in when the kids startled him by yelling “Trick or Treat!!””

“His wolf teeth ripped the coyote’s throat open. He had warned The Pack to let the kids be on Halloween Night.”

“She smiled. She always smiled before she feasted.”

“The growl was scary, the raspy voice chilling, and the rancid breath sickening, but Old Man Miller always had the best candy”

“Doug came back after midnight; like every Halloween Night, he had feasted long and well.”

“She combed her hair, put on makeup, picked up her head, and went out on the only night of the year that she could.”

In case you are wondering, each is meant to be a “tweet story”.  I enjoyed it, and hope to participate again tonight.

A good bottle of Spirits helps warm the chill on Halloween
A good bottle of Spirits helps warm the chill on Halloween

And now, for my Halloween 2012 short story (it may become a tradition).

The Witch

The young girl was dragged through the streets, the large man pulling her along by her long white hair.

Tears running down her cheeks, she struggled to keep up, even as she softly begged him to stop.  He would have none of it.  Nor did the crowd following them.  Angry slurs were hurled along with the occasional rock.

She would occasionally hear the name they called her . . . “Witch!”

They had come at dawn, striking down her elderly mother, breaking the door to her room, and roughly dragging her out to the yard.  The large man had read a piece of paper.  She had missed most of it, but she caught being blamed for the bad crop yield, and the sickness in the village.

She had tried to protest, but he had kicked her leg, and told her to be quiet.  He finished reading the charge along with the names of the villagers who had accused her, tried, and convicted her.  Then, she was hauled upright, and everyone was now heading to the town center.

She could see it from afar, and started to resist; the pyre was ready for her, people already waiting for her to arrive.  The man just pulled harder, and someone behind her showed her forward.

It was short work to haul her up, and tie her to the upright trunk.

The people went quiet, and all that could be heard were her sobs.  Two men with torches approached the pyre.  The girl stopped sobbing.  Raising her head, she defiantly watched them approach.

As the torches were about to touch the kindling, a chilled wind blew them out.  Gasps went up from the crowd.

“The witch!  Kill her before she can do more harm!!”  someone yelled.  “Kill h . . . “  The person yelling suddenly grabbed their throat, gasping for air, then their head whipped around, snapping their neck.

Two others raised their pitchforks, and ran to the pyre, but before they got there, they both tripped, impaling themselves in their pitchforks.  Their screams only lasted a few seconds.

Some tried to run, but their legs went out from under them, and they were crushed as if by an invisible hand.  Others rushed the pyre, but they burst into flames and dropped before they could reach it.

Within minutes, the area was cleared of living souls, save for two.  The young girl with the long white hair watched the woman walk toward her.  The woman stopped to pick up an ax, then continued toward the girl.

She climbed onto the pyre, the girl trying to shrink away from her as the woman raised the ax above her head.

“Who are you?” the girl asked, terrified.

The ax came down, cutting the rope holding the girl.  “I am The Witch,” the woman answered.

The end?

I hope everyone has a safe and fun Halloween, and thanks for stopping by.

Remember to enjoy Spirits responsibly.
Remember to enjoy Spirits responsibly.

P. S. I rushed this.  I’ll correct any errors later.


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