Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery

by Brom

It’s not that complicated, she thought. Just do your best to treat others as you wish to be treated. What more needs to be said?

“You need watch yourself better. It does not take much to lead these young men’s thoughts astray.”

Fuck that. For a lock of hair, no less.

“That is not what you want, that is what you need. You are not made out of needs, you are made out of your dreams and desires. What is it you wish and dream of?”

“Life is nothing but riddles … we spend our whole lives puzzling them out. Sadly, as soon as we find the answer, the riddle changes. Does it not?”

But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?

The serpent closed in, closer and closer, its lethal promise igniting something deep within Abitha’s breast: the primordial need of every creature that has ever been hurt by another—the need to bite back. A hard grimace set on Abitha’s face. “If it is a witch they want,” she hissed, “then a witch they shall have.”