Greenteeth

by Molly O'Neill

“That’s preachers for you. They care less about facts than about fear. That cursed parson probably didn’t even think I was really a witch, just a woman who was cleverer than he thought she should be.”

All flash and fire when he controls the conversation but avoids real emotion like the plague. A man like that can’t abide a woman’s tears. I knew he’d do anything to make me stop.

“A witch, a goblin and Jenny Greenteeth are off to seek the King of the Fairies,” he said. “What a delicious disaster this could be.”

“Don’t look at me,” I said. “Appealing to men is really not my area of expertise. Eating them is more my thing.”

It sounds to me like she is trying to be more than what they think of her. Are you angry because she expects you to try too?”

“Fool. Monsters don’t have hearts,”

“The Game, Jenny. Dark versus light. Life, growth, sunshine and flowers on one side, and on the other?” He grinned horribly, the parson’s face almost totally lost now. “Me. And you for that matter. All the dark things that crawl and kill and rot. That’s why you’re here having this conversation with me, because you and I, we are alike.”

“I know who I am,” I shot back, scrambling for a response. “I might not be perfect but I’m nothing like you. I’m not good but I’m not all the way bad.” The Erl King laughed again and stood up. “Who told you that? A half-rotten apple is a rotten apple. Things are either one thing or another. Don’t be so picky, Jenny. We all must be as we are made.