It wasn’t often you’d see Tillie without her broom.
From sunup to sundown she’d sweep the sidewalks, the streets, the floors of the little shack she called home.
After dark, she was nowhere to be found.
But on quiet nights, you could hear laughter as she streaked across the sky.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. Her only mode of transportation is her trusty SUV.
It was spring when she arrived, a broomstick-riding hag, dark and ugly. Dad claimed she belonged on the pages of Macbeth, stirring a bubbling cauldron!
She set up camp at our front gate and stayed for days on end.
After a week, Dad surrendered, telling Mom, “Let your mother in.”
John Fowler served twenty years in the US Air Force before retiring and starting a second career in the IT field. He is also a Lay Pastor serving a small church near his home in Texas. His hobbies include reading, golfing, and writing.
“It’s a sand witch!” I shouted. “Run!”
My warning came too late. She caught us in her magical snares and turned us into camels.
It took three years to escape, and two more to find a wizard who could change us back. On the upside, I kept the water retention.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “it’s a sandwich.”
It was thought that the deaths of the innocent fell on her pale shoulders.
A rudimentary trial was constructed so that the people could determine whether she possessed corrupt power. If she floated when bound, the evil spirits guiding her would be made known.
At least she wasn’t a witch.
Aaron is a high-school student in central Indiana.