The Coven

The moon lolled in the night sky like the pallid face of a corpse above a forest which trembled with a melancholic drone of crickets, skeletal boughs of trees swayed in synchrony as a gentle wind orchestrated their movement. Through the thick knit of foliage, vivid shards of light effused from an orange campfire where a small group of hikers surrounded the flame in a comfortable silence as they massaged their bruised feet. The newest and youngest member of the hiking group was Frankie; she was perched on a log with her knees bundled into her chest, a collared sweater itched at her neck and a long caramel braid was draped over one shoulder. Frankie’s eyes burned with the heat as she twisted a stick between her fingers, rotating her roasting marshmallow above the flame. From the opposite side of the circle, a woman named Ruth spoke up “Anyone in the mood for a spooky story?” A chorus of timid enthusiasm rippled amongst the women and Ruth began her tale in a menacing tone…

“Though it may seem as if we are alone in these barren woods, I can assure you that there are malicious presences stalking us at this very moment. Algae coated savages who drag themselves from the marshes, a halo of flies swarming the stumps of their necks where exposed bones are jagged like splinters. There are bats above us, watching us with their humanlike eyes and wicked grins whilst below us worms’ gummy mouths salivate for the taste of a freshly buried cadaver.” Ruth paused as the circle broke into a nervous eruption of laughter, Frankie timidly chuckled along as she glanced up at the canopy of twisted leaves and was relieved to find that no humanoid bats hung from the branches.

Once the group had settled, Ruth continued her story, “I can see that my narration of the malicious creatures that lurk in the shadows of these woods has stirred some trepidation amongst you, but let me assure you that these beasts are not the worst of it. Folklore has it that a coven of witches whose faces are long and eyes yellow dwell in these woods, with deceit and trickery they lead young travellers from their route and deep into the woods. Once the witches have ensnared their victim… well…” Ruth broke off with an amused grin and the women chuckled as though they were sharing an inside joke that Frankie wasn’t apart of.

Frankie glanced furtively around the circle as she inspected each member of the group and shivered when a dawning thought sent a cold bolt of horror down her spine… Perhaps the slight lengthening of the women’s faces could be explained by nightly shadows; maybe the hollowed nature of their cheeks was owed to the eerie cast of moonlight; perhaps the yellow glow in their eyes was merely a reflection of the campfire. Frankie drew her marshmallow from the flames with a shaking hand and popped the charred glob into her mouth, the sweetness offering no relief from her growing suspicion.

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