We all have something we’re afraid of.
Maybe it’s spiders or clowns, but for me, it’s Hallows’ Eve.
I’m sure your mind is racing to conclusions but I assure you, you won’t guess why.
Many autumns ago I was out for a midnight ride under a full and shining moon. My horse was calm and enjoying the night as much as I, until we heard a sound. An awful sound I can’t begin to compare with anything I’ve heard. It scared my horse who reared and bolted and left me sitting and cursing amongst the fallen leaves. A chill rose up my spine. Quickly, I got to my feet and tried to find the source of the dreadful sound. There before me stood a howling witch, a gruesome looking thing. Boils covered her face and leaked a stinky purplish slime, though her neck and arms seemed oddly unaffected.
She screeched, “Every Hallows’ Eve you’ll meet me by this river to wash my face. A demon has cursed me; touch the hallowpox slime myself all my remaining good and perfect skin shall melt away. In exchange, you will live, unlike this doe.” With a wave of her fine-looking hand a deer appeared, and with another, shriveled to its death in front of my horror filled eyes.
So, every Hallows’ Eve I have made the trek to the river and washed the witch’s boils clean. Each time I have secretly stashed away some of the toxic slime. This year, I think I finally have enough.
The witch’s screams filled the night. Her skin had melted clean away and only bone and sinew remained.
She glared at me in mere annoyance, “I was very fond of my skin, now I shall have to use yours instead.”
My screaming filled the night.
About the Writer:
Tammy Crosby is a busy working mom who likes to dabble in writing when the mood and timing allow for it.
Writers were asked to submitt a Halloween themed original story that was up to 300 words in length. Each Friday until Halloween, a new story will be featured. Please give these brave individuals applause by leaving a comment.
Feature photo credit: Jordyn via photopin (license)
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