A Witch's Scorn

Measma stirred the contents of the cauldron. She grabbed a bottle from a nearby shelf, examined the ‘camel hair’ label, and shook a few strands into the swirling liquid. Black bubbles oozed to the surface and popped, splattering grimy pieces of fly wings, and frog intestines against the sides.

“I believe it’s finally ready,” she crooned. She dipped a vial in and filled it. “It may look nasty, but I’ve been told it tastes like fine wine,” she cackled.

Measma slipped into a slender blue dress and stepped in front of a full-length mirror. She placed the vial down her ample bosom and flipped her shoulder-length auburn hair. Her sparkling eyes glimmered in the noon sun beaming through her window.

She glanced at the broom in the corner and thought of riding in style, but that would just give it all away. The thought made her smile. She stepped to the door and opened it. A deluge of reporters, microphones in hand, swarmed upon her.

“Do you have a statement?” an eager young man in the front asked.

“My personal life is none of the Congressman’s business. I’m just his opponent in this election. There is no need for such commentary.”

She walked to the stairs and descended into a large conference room where several security shooed the throng of media away. The Congressman stood behind his podium.

“Hello, Measma. No hard feelings on that affair thing. I was against the idea, of course.”

“I’m sure you were, even with the bump in the polls…”

“Well… Unintended consequences,” he quipped.

“I’m sure.” She eyed the congressman’s habit of a small glass of wine before the big debate.

“We’ll see who makes a monkey out of whom…,” she whispered. The hard glass of the vial twirled between her fingers.



Flash Story
Must contain: shelf, broom, monkey
Limited to 300 words


Editor's Pick for the Short Story Newsletter 4/9/14