Witching Hour

Her laugh reverberated through the cold dark room. Her high heals clacked as she paced. He long floor length dress picked up the dust that clung to the ground like a blanket. She knew she would have to go back upstairs to the party soon. She looked over at her captive, who was struggling to free himself. She walked over and kissed his forehead his muffled screams coming through the fabric. He would die tonight.

She swept up the stairs and out the door. The music covered his struggles in the basement of the opulent castle. She took her husbands arm and he swept her around the dance floor. His innocent smile made her eyes sparkle with secrets. With every twirl her smile grew. The applause was deafening when the song was done, she didn’t remember any of the steps they had done. She remembered her plan to murder the man in the basement, perfectly orchestrated.

She gave her husband a kiss on the cheek and politely excused herself. After some refreshments and small talk she retreated to her liar once again.

Her captive had knocked himself over, but accomplished nothing else. She removed his gag, he screamed but the walls of the castle were thick and the music was loud. She sneered at him. He fell silent, tears of fear glistening ready to escape.

“What are you going to do to me?” He asked his voice cracking like a child.

She crouched close to him, so her face was close to his.  She took in the smell of fear, the look of terror growing as she stayed silent. She touched his cheek with a long fingernail and the tears broke free. She chuckled softly, unable to contain her joy.

“Please let me go…” He pleaded through the tears.

She went to the small table where her book was kept along with the only lit candle and her blade. She picked up the slender knife twirling it skillfully in her fingers as she approached her captive.

“I don’t want to die..”

She lifted his chair from the ground, with surprising strength for someone of her stature. With swift flicks of her blade she sliced his arm from his wrist to his elbow, avoiding his bonds. He screamed in agony. The blood sluiced down his arms to the floor. Dripping and filling the design on the floor drop by drop. She waved her hand over him and retied his gag. She placed the bloodied knife back on the table and blew out the candle. She could feel his life draining and revitalizing her. She blew out the candle and made her way to the stairs and back to the party by the pink glow of the spell.


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Writing short stories and flash pieces.

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