Lona The Witch

On the outskirts of a settlement, Gwendoline and Pascal came across the residence of a witch. Lona was her name and her reputation reached further most of the inhabitants’ general education. Lona was known for so many things. She was equally revered as well as disreputable.

Her age was quite difficult to determine. People’s reports varied from early twenties to nearly seventy. It was rumoured that the black-haired beauty was able to appear in different looks. Just the way it corresponded to her respective customer’s idea of the witch. Lona’s black thick mane reached her well over her hips and it was of such a dark black that it drove a cold shiver over the neck of many inhabitants of the settlement.

Her green eyes were awake and attentive. The exact observer also noticed their playfulness. Lona’s cheeky need for shambles and frivolities. Frivol, that’s what many here called her, and many of them claimed to have seen Lona frivolously dancing with the devil at night. Dedicated to the devil himself, Satan, Lucifer. Being bad to the very fingertips, without a glimmer of good. This rumour was preferably put into the world by men. The very ones that the beautiful witch had turned down.

The night before, when Gwendoline and Pascal arrived at „The Blazing Sword“ sitting there with their dinner, they heard two women telling a story to each other. One of them clasping her basket filled with apricots tightly as if it was a lifebelt, reported that she had discovered glasses full of human eyes in Lona’s hut.

„What did you want from her? What should she help you with?“, asked the other one, whose sight resembled that of a dried-up tree. She was tall and haggard, and both the angles of her eyes as well as of the mouth were conspicuously curved downwards.

„Why do you think I wanted help from that witch?“, the basket owner asked indignantly.

„Why else should you have been at hers?“

„Because that dame was whoring around with my husband. That’s why!“

„When?“, the tree woman asked horrified.

„The last night of the full moon,“ the basket carrier spouted off yowling.

„What? But the night my Jacob had seen her dancing with the devil.“

Veröffentlicht von martinarwrites

Indieautorin, die ihre Erfahrungen teilt

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