the loophole

She held the surrogate’s hand, she was a pretty young woman willing to carry a child that was not her own, her husband held hers. They were in the delivery room waiting for their little bundle of joy to come into the world.

The doctor coaxed the little one into the world, and handed him to his mother.

They arrived. The witches, there were three of them, standing looking confused about why the others were there.

The mother clutched the baby closer as she recognized one as Ssamdol, the witch she had promised  first born child for the gift of song.

The father recognized one as Fasd, the witch he had promised his first born child to for love.

The surrogate laying exhausted on the bed recognized the last one as Hajilkem, the witch she promised her first born child to her to survive a car accident.

The three witches looked at each other and in unintentional unison, “I’m here for the baby.”

“Who’s baby is it?” Ssamodol asked, her claw of a finger outstretched toward the child.

“Well, its ours.” The two parents said. “But we didn’t give birth to it.”

“So its your first born child?” Hajilkem planed her lender hands on her leather clad hips.

“Sorta, but biologically its not mine.” The surrogate said sleepily.

The witches looked between themselves. Fasd sighed, “Where does that leave us?”

“We should have written down what we did last time this happened.” Ssamodol rubbed her nose. “We alternated, I don’t remember the schedule.”

“The last schedule sucked, having to fly it back and fourth every week was exhausting.” Hajilkem tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “What if we did months this time?”

“How do we do holidays?”  Ssamoldol shook her head.

“We usually celebrate together.”

Fasd nodded in agreement. “These mortals thinking they can get out of promises with more promises.”

“Who gets him first?”Ssamodol reached out her arms for the baby, plucking it out of it’s mothers arms.

“Who gets him last?” Fasd suggested. “You take him for now, I’ll fetch him next month.”

They disappeared in a cloud of smoke leaving the parents befuddled.





The crystals changed us, the ones who found them. They made us different. They made us strong. They made us dangerous. In a world of sheep we are wolves.

The power they give us is intoxicating. We never take them off, if we did we would lose everything. I held mine tighter as I walked into the building, hiding its glow. We crept over sleeping bodies of citizens of our city.

Being their last hope and them having no idea of the danger they were in put us in a difficult situation.

We walked across the room to the center before we released our crystals. Chanting quiet words we cast the protection spell. They would be safe tonight. We left without a trace. We go from house to house each night casting the protection spells keeping Her out.

Her being the one who uses her powers to kill. Like I said we are powerful, wolves among sheep powerful. With a different spell we could kill all the people in the town, we could make them suffer. We could make each other suffer.

Our band chooses to protect, while She causes chaos.

She didn’t win tonight, and She won’t win tomorrow. We will make sure of it.

Gem eaters 2

She watched the car hit him, green glistening gems scattered across the road. She carefully collected the blood spattered gems from the edge of the scene carefully making her way closer. The ambulance came in the bustle she continued her collection. They started CPR and administered shocks, but she knew it was too late. The driver of the car was crying. Her pockets were full of the green gems, there were more to be collected. She pulled her bag off her shoulder and carefully started to fill it. The man was hauled into the ambulance, all his gems left behind. She had collected her dues.

She walked away from the scene as the police showed up, to them she was just another witness. A shrug, and a passive answer later they left her alone. She pulled a gem out of her pocket and crunched on it. It reminded her of a granny smith apple.

They were her sustenance, and she ate until she was full. She kept her eyes open for the omen of tiny drops of green crystals.

“I see you are still successful.” A silky voice said from the shadows.

“Have been for hundreds of years now.” She replied watching gems start to fall as an old man collapsed at the park.

She began collecting them. The presence was close behind her watching her work.

“Two in one day, impressive.”

“Its fairly normal for this city,” She filled her bag. “Sometimes four or five.”

There was silence from the darkness, then the presence disappeared. She shrugged and finished collecting the gems in silence. She munched on them in the park a ways away from the dead body. They were bitter, she gagged as she choked them down.

She finished them and sulked away trying not to throw them up. The presence returned.

“Every soul you return to me is always a surprise.”

“Why? You watched him die.”

“Its so quick and they are complete.”

She arched an eyebrow at the shadows.

There was some guilt when it spoke again, “I have over burdened you, being the best vessel in my employ. I did not realize you were returning three or four souls in a day.”

“Four or more.” She corrected rubbing her upset stomach.

“To assist you.” A teenager stepped out of the shadows. “He is new to the order. Please teach him.”

“Okay,” She agreed, the pain lessening when the presence disappeared.

“Are you okay?” The boy looked terrified.

She smiled the best she could. “Yeah, sometimes the souls are a little difficult to process.”

“We process souls?”

“Keep up kid.” She ruffled his shaggy dyed black hair. “Lets walk and talk.”

They walked out of the park and onto the packed sidewalks. There was an awkward silence. They watched a opossum chose an inopportune time to cross the road. Blue crystals scattered as the car continued on its way.

“Those are for you.” She said leading him across the crosswalk. He picked up a couple. “All of them.”

He gathered up all of them and stood looking up at her with confusion. “I’ve seen these before.”

She nodded, “Not everyone can. To do this job you kind of need to see them.”

“What do I do with them?”

“You eat them.”

He gaped at her. “But these came out of a dead thing!”

“Just do it.” Her face hardened and he listened, popping a gem into his mouth. She watched his face transform from disgust to wonder. He quickly ate all of them. She patted him on the back, “Good job.”

He followed her around, eating any all of the sapphire blue gems that fell.


The Great Return

She heard the voices of dismay as she clawed her way from the water. They hoped she had drowned, like the innocent women before her. She kept the curses from spewing from her lips, destiny would find them soon enough. Her magic bubbled though her bloodstream wanting release, revenge. She choked the words down as mud caked her fingers and soaked clothes. She relished the sweet taste of the air, and stood up her legs weak, but functioning.

“She’s a witch!” She heard the holy man shout over the noise of the crowd. A pinch with her hand silenced him. If a witch was what they wanted a witch they would get.

She looked the woman at the front of the crowd in the eye, “Mistress Mary, I helped you deliver three healthy babies and this is the thanks you give me?”

The woman cowered from her withering gaze.

“All the good I did for this pitiful town and you decide to kill me?” She addressed the now silent crowd as a whole. “I eased your pains, cured your ills, and kept you safe, more often with knowledge than magic.”

A glance at the holy man told her he was still trying to argue with her, in spite of not being able to talk. The whole town had turned up to watch her dunking, and now they all cowered before her. It was as if they knew that one word from her lips could kill them all. They didn’t deserve that easy of a death, she thought, she had seen the things that would come to the town in her absence.

“Remember all the death you have caused.” She whispered and trudged away with her soaking wet clothes. An unnoticed motion released the holy mans voice. She went into the woods, it would be a new town a new name, and hopefully a different fate. Her house had already been burned, with her magic makings still inside. It would be difficult to recover all of the supplies, but not impossible.

The road to a new life would be long, her clothes drying on her back as she walked along with a little bit of magical help. A little more magic produced enough coins for her to rent a room for the night, she would have to keep moving for now.

On the road she found a poor man who was lying injured on the road. She healed him with a few words, he paid her with a coin for her help. She wished him safe travels.

After months of traveling she settled down in the city. A few modest healing spells on children and mothers quickly got the word out about her amazing skills. She would keep a lower profile here than in her old town. Most people didn’t know her name or where she lived. She would just appear when people needed the most help. Sometimes she even helped without people’s knowledge. Keeping a board from falling on someone with a flick of her wrist, stopping a child from running into the street, alerting someone to danger before it got too close. Small things she promised herself, only small things.


A cupboard full of books, stuffed and stacked until no more could fit. A few were piled on top along with assorted bottles in various glowing colors. The cupboard itself was unremarkable wood stained and burned from accidents and spills. Its varnish wearing away in places where many hands have touched to open its doors or run fingers along its shelves. The books were a multitude of colors and subjects. Dust collecting on book that haven’t moved in months, others freshly thumbed through with new wrinkles on their spines. A tiny worn step stool sat in font of the cupboard on the worn out rug. The rugs flower design long turned brown from muddy shoes and dirty feet. Sunlight has bleached whatever was left to pastels. The rug is edged by dark hardwood floors, worn smooth from years of use. Recently painted walls were no match for the messes created, their perfection already marred by potion splatters. The window’s tiny squares of glass are immaculately clean, the frame not as much. Ridges were worn into the wood from the brass latch and fingers pushing the window open. The desk under the window as in worse shape than the cupboard. Two of the four drawers were stuck shut their treasures forever locked inside. A hole was burned all the way through the top of the desk fixed with a small square of glass and some metal. The top of the desk was littered with ink, paper, books thrown open on an assortment of subjects. Bottles cluttered the corners of the desk threatening to topple from their precarious perches, all stuffed with herbs and ingredients. Feather pens were scattered around the room with an array of notes tucked under them. The largest cluster was around a well worn arm chair a similar floral pattern had vanished along with the rugs.

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.