Today on Drabble Wednesday I venture into the deep, dark
woods where witches, wolves and wishes lurk beyond the shadows…
The Wolves of Wickham
Everyone knew not to venture into the forests of Wickham.
Every soul in the village, from the tiniest tot to the most elderly, stayed far
away from the woods. Bad things happened to a person when they went into the
trees. Most never came out, and those that did, well… screams and blood usually
accompanied them.
Yet… here was Frederick,
blundering about the underbrush, crashing through the branches in panic trying
to find his way home, trying in flee the forest. Behind him something growled,
and then another something.
Poor Frederick. You see, the wolves of Wickham are always
hungry.
The Crone
Such a harmless figure, the old woman, a plaid woolen shawl—the colour of brown earth—drawn over her stooped head and shoulders. She leans heavily on her gnarled cane as she moves, her thin hand unconsciously smoothing a wrinkled skirt and stained apron. At first careless glance she presents the familiar picture of an innocuous granny.
But first glances can deceive. Look closer. Those stains on her apron, are they red? Like blood? Her smile, does hold a touch of wicked, a malicious grin? And those sinewy fingers, have they worked dark magic, perhaps murdered man and beast alike?
Wishes
The full silver moon sprinkles stardust over the forest
canopy. Light filters though the trees to cast a radiant reflection in the
still waters of an old wishing well. The moon knows the ancient well
intimately; they are enduring friends of long acquaintance and secrets.
A figure approaches the well. The moonlight shifts, ever so
subtly, lighting her path. She tosses the golden coin she clutched, and it arcs,
then hits the water with a splash, falling deep within the well.
“I wish to marry Eli.”
The water shimmers with magic cast.
In the morning Eli's wife will be dead.
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