Short form writing: Curses!
The witch, the snake and the dog
Editor’s note: Over the next few months, I’ll share some of my short-form fiction with you here, as well as updates on my Kindle Vellas. The following was written during a 10-minute writing sprint.
The witch spoke the ancient words and began to shrink.
She became smaller and smaller, her skin losing its supple nature and becoming necrotic and coiled. Her face elongated into a flat surface and her eyes rose to the top of her head. Her canines lengthened becoming sharp fangs. She lay coiled awaiting any unsuspecting passersby. The friendly dog trotted into the yard, beginning it’s regular perimeter walk. The witch saw the dog approaching from a distance and it smiled as much as any snake can smile. Because the witch had become a pygmy rattlesnake, a relative to the traditional rattler, it was slightly smaller and more cunning.
The dog approached, its collar hardware jingling and the pads of her paws hitting the ground. “Closer, closer,” the witch hissed, but just before it came within striking distance the dog suddenly stopped. The witch rattled her tail and hissed. “Come close. Are you stupid dog?” she said, but the dog named Lemon had been to this rodeo once before. In fact, she had been bitten by the same snake — not knowing it was a witch of course.
Lemon still knew the pain and swelling that she endured for days. She didn’t know the word or phrase, snake avoidance, but she knew enough not to get bit a second time. She growled and slacked off, leaving the frustrated witch stuck in her sneaky body. Now she had to await someone else before she could turn back into her witchly shape.
This was her curse to be a witch by day and a snake by night, but she can only return to her natural form if she took in the blood of a mammal. Tonight she would be sleeping on the cold ground once again.