“Those sisters always lived in that house. They trapped cars that strayed too far into the cul-de-sac with giant steel nets.”
When reality folded over itself for the fifth or sixth time, she decided she needed to bury the spirit board.
From his office window he could see them down there writing obscenities on his car with the blood of slaughtered horses.
As the spell was cast there was a terrible crunching of teeth, a cascade of secondary gods, a sundering of financial plans.
She discovered there was a single word written on each toad. She would need a bucket.
The protection of woodland creatures would be barely sufficient. In the morning they would summon The Old Mountain.
“I wouldn’t call it a cult, I’d call it a group of extremely motivated enthusiasts who really like robes.”
The witches gathered together that night under the full moon. “It’s time to unionize.”
The psychic attack was most certainly coming from the shy little girl.
“I found myself at a motel… a bag of cash, empty fast food wrappers. And I wasn’t in the same body anymore.”
Tangled together by the tail, the bundle of angry cats was tossed into the small cabin.
“When I was young,” she said, “we wouldn’t have tolerated this new magic school bullshit.”
She waited hours for him, fiddling with the doll’s hair until it fell out.
Instead of using a pumpkin that year they used a human skull.
She hobbled, jutting out each leg with painful experimentation, until she reached the bookcase.