So I’ve been in bed sick for the last day and a half, left work early on Tues. and stayed home yesterday. Back in the office today because I’m feeling a little bit better and because I simply can’t afford another day off.
In good news I won one of the categories for the Fangland flash fiction contest. My little short “The Candy Witch” won for Best Creepy story. I didn’t think it was that creepy but I’ve been told over and over that my fiction can be really creepy and I just don’t notice ’cause I’m the one who wrote it.
And you guys should really head over to the link and read the first place story by ChiaLynn really fantastic, well written, complex. I like it so much I can’t even be upset about not winning because really, she deserved it. So YAY! for her as well and for the other winner Nina whose “Open Sesame” I also thought was very innovative and exciting. So head over and read both of those!
It was suggested by the angry black woman that I spin it out “The Candy Witch” into a full story and I’ve been thinking about that suggestion quite a bit. I’m working on a short story right now (Working Title: “Heaven-Tree-Earth”) and after that I have another short in mind called – “Rubber in Flight” but after that I think I’m gonna start working on expanding “The Candy WItch” I already have an idea how to do that so that’s the plan for right now but in the meantime wanna read the original short? Well it’s right below the cut (altered just a little from the original, because on second glance there were a few typos and a few word choices I had to switch ’cause they bothered me).
The Candy Witch by: Naamen
She dreamed. Of dark forbidden forests where no villagers dare enter, Kings and Queens that cowered before her, nights of power where she danced naked beneath a full moon with only wolves’ eyes for company, a house with a porch made of peppermint, sugar and sweetbreads that swirled and coated wood panels and beams and the smell of children, always the smell of children, sweet but somehow dirty like candy and rotting meat. Her mouth watered.
When she woke up it was to the same high rise apartment she had been in for the last five years. There were no ceremonies in the dark anymore, no freezers filled with the meat of children who foolishly wandered to close to her home. She sighed and rose from her bed, the red silk sheets trailed over her body catching on wrinkles and moles. She walked to the full length mirror that hung on the wall. She trailed her fingers over the huge crevasses formed by sagging folds of flesh, she rubbed at the large moles that adorned most of her joints and felt a flash of heat between her thighs. Her beauty was unappreciated by humans. Her people would have sighed at the uniform grey of her skin, cooed at the hooked nose and deep eyes the color of burnished gold, asked to fondle the inch long black pointed nails that adorned her fingers.
But her people were gone.
Wiped out, or near enough that she hadn’t met another in over a hundred years, by the Church. Sure in the beginning most of the victims had been innocent and she and her sisters had laughed to see the humans burning their own but then…then it wasn’t funny anymore. Her sisters were found and put to the torch. She had survived, deep in the Black Forest where humans had once feared to tread.
She looked out over the city through the windows that made up one wall of her bedroom, the sun was just setting.
She wandered through her apartment to the kitchen and up to the cauldron and line of ingredients set up on the small counter island in the corner. She began to pour various chemicals with names she couldn’t pronounce into the cauldron along with the herb Calendula to increase psychic openness and a drop of her blood so that the psychic energy would be drawn to her. It wasn’t as satisfying as the old days when she knew the taste of flesh, tender and fatty but it sustained her. As the cauldron bubbled she chanted over it in a language long dead and forgotten. The words were sibilant, the sounds of animals moving through underbrush, the soft swish of wings as an owl killed its prey, the short howl of triumph over a fresh kill.
The small warehouse was packed and Heath raised his eyes to the glowing images painted on tarps that had been hung all over bare plaster walls. There was a tug on his arm and he turned to face his best friend, Keith.
“C’mon it’s your first rave, let’s get you fucked up!”
Heath docilely followed him between people that marked his passing with glazed eyes and roving hands. They reached the edge of the group of writhing people and stopped in a corner while Keith stood on his tiptoes and scanned the crowd. Suddenly Keith bounced on his toes and gestured wildly with his hands. Keith stopped and turned to face him again.
“I’m so glad she came tonight, I wasn’t sure but she’s at most of these.”
“This girl, she has the best X in the city, totally messes you up.”
Then she was there. Heath got the impression of pearly white skin, blond hair laced with streaks of pink and an outfit that matched the hair. She was covered in strings and strings of fake plastic jewelry and the smile on her face was so bubbly Heath had to smile back. Her face was beautiful, he couldn’t point out any particular feature and later would not even be able to recall the color of her eyes but he knew at that moment that she was the most lovely person he’d ever seen. Keith talked with her a bit and then handed him a pretty pink pill. Heath swallowed it down closing his eye and when he looked back up, she was gone.
“What’s her name?” he yelled at Keith over the thumping beat that seemed to fill his skin.
“They call her The Candy Witch”