020222b

black
tea
light spell
full moon mid-
night cemetery
south Georgia demon summoning
so sorry words of power were lost in translation

050420d

the medicinal
properties of eye of newt
overrated

122619c

the gingerbread house remains
though the forest dried up and blew away
when the climate changed
two children
trudging across the dunes
she is waiting

030219

no castle

just a thicket of thorns

a mile across

011419

witches practice
in front of mirrors only once
this green toad I call Percival
just like his mother did

120418d

I paid all I could afford
to get revenge on the neighbor
who shot my dog

tomorrow
three in the morning
his house will turn to sour cream

the witch
a dog lover
gave me a big discount

092418b

Uneasy rests the head in Oz


1. The farm equipment is restless.
2. Witches hold all the real power.
3. Even a cowardly lion can bite.
4. Soldiers without hearts are not necessarily more obedient.
5. Must avoid making the witch call out the flying monkeys.
6. What happens if malcontents remove their green glasses?
7. My predecessor did not build the wall high enough to block cyclonic travel from alien countries.

091318c

the sludge reached the second floor
Wednesday, I think it was
we tossed the last of the witches in
with suitable words and gestures
but it kept on rising
we broke out onto the roof
saw nothing else
every direction
bubbling brown goo
we no longer could sprout wings
something you lose
when you make the choices we did
no choice left now
we dove in

everything was fine

042118c

wind picked up in
the green light of evening
neighbor on her cycle

021918b

The Lich

"But if the warlock be of exceeding grate powerr, his dead corse may rise agayn, an such an abomination is called a liche."

--Abdul Alhazred, translated by G. W. Cooper

Shawn Hutton sprinkled the old witch's powder over the corpse while speaking the last words of the spell. If he had correctly interpreted the old woman's notes, the body of the most powerful wizard Alabama had ever known would become his willing slave. If not ? well, he shuddered to think what De Wayne Miller's lich would do to him if it was not under his control!

Lightning flashed outside the grimy windows of Shawn's toolshed-workshop, immediately followed by a deafening peal of thunder. Involuntarily, Shawn turned towards the window.

"That had to be close," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

Then came the rain, hissing through the azaleas and drumming on the roof nearly as loudly as the thunderclap of a moment before. Shawn's ears registered no sound inside the room, so loud was the rain, until a heavy hand fell onto his left shoulder. He screamed and tried to twist away, but it was no use. Another hand caught his hair and bent his head so far backwards that all he could see was Miller's half-rotted face, upside down and a bare inch from his own. Shawn screamed again, for the last time.

Miller dropped the corpse and strode stiff-legged towards the door. The fool had completed the reanimation spell, just as Miller'd intended, but had bungled the job. Miller hardly had any feeling in his extremities, and his muscles were not responding as they should. This would not do. He had to get to his own laboratory and finish the task. He tried to grasp the doorknob, but his hands were like wood: they kept slipping off. Finally, frustrated, he slammed the door with his shoulder, ripping the hasp right out of the jamb. He strode out into the rain without a backward glance.

Jasmine mumbled to herself continuously as she rummaged through the wizard's paraphernalia. Every so often she would exclaim delightedly over some discovery, shoving her finds into a shapeless denim sack. Every now and again, too, she would pause, to stare intently at a glass globe that lay in the center of a large oak table. What she saw seemed to reassure her, and each time after a few moments' pause she went back to her work.

The witch worked quickly. She moved from the desk to a shelf of books, reading titles, occasionally taking a book off the shelf and flipping through its pages. Two or three volumes she put into her sack.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck very near the old house: thunder boomed loud enough to rattle the glassware on the shelves over the pot-bellied stove. At almost the same moment, the dim glass globe blazed forth with a hideous pale green light. The witch snatched up her sack and trotted nimbly toward the door. However, even as she reached for the handle, the door was wrenched open from outside.

"You!" she gasped, starting back. "But the powder?!"

Yes, Miller thought, I suspected the powder. So it wasn't made right. Still, here I am, you back-stabber. We had a deal. Alas, his undead lips could not form words so quickly. All he said was "Powder! Backstabber!"

The witch knew what he meant. "I intended you to remain in hell," she said. "I admit it. You should not be here. But we can still keep our agreement." Her eyes darted from side to side while her hand slipped into her pocket.

"Deal broken!" the lich barked. "You die!" Yes, you crooked old woman, he

thought, I paid you well to restore life to my clay, and you betrayed me. That young fool had just the wit to do your bidding. I suppose he paid you too, and was told I would be his slave. We were partners, but now you must pay for your deceit.

He lurched towards the witch, arms held stiffly before him, growling hoarsely. She took a small bottle out of her pocket, pulled the cork with her teeth, and flung the contents at the lich. His chest and right arm immediately began to pop and sputter like hot oil splashed with water.

The witch cursed under her breath: she'd been aiming for his face. The lich ignored the flames, lurching forward and embracing the witch. She twisted

out of his grasp, he overbalanced and toppled to the floor, but he caught

her ankle with one hand. The snap of ankle bones filled the room. The witch bit her lip and reached into her sack, rummaging for something. The lich dragged her to the floor just as she pulled another small jar out of her sack. It slipped out of her hand, shattered, and a dark thin liquid soaked into the planks. Sparks from the burning lich fell onto the patch of liquid and it exploded with flame. The two figures writhed apart, engulfed in flames, the witch letting out one short shriek. The lich staggered back to his feet. Flame billowed from his entire body. The witch rolled on the floor, trying to put out her burning clothes.

The lich silently cursed his former partner. You fool! I would have lived forever. I would have treated you fairly -I needed an assistant. We could have ruled this county. He turned toward the door, but the fire was too intense. He lurched back to the center of the room, beating at the flames that ate into his head. Fire had now spread throughout the small building. The witch dragged her sack with one hand, shielding her face with the other. She rattled the back door but it was locked. She kicked at it. Something in the witch's sack exploded, hurling her into the door, which did not yield. She fell to the floor. The lich growled in rage and

stumbled toward her just as the roof fell in. He was buried by burning beams. The

flames leaped up to meet the falling rain, and a column of steam rose into the night.

Morning sun flooded the glade. Mist rose up to meet it, but nothing living emerged from the rubble of the Mage's house. After a while, a mockingbird perched on the debris and began to sing.

020318b

The Sweet Cleaner

“You what?”

“I won't pay. This is highway robbery. You quoted one shilling and now you want six.”

Clinton fumed. The old witch wouldn't pay. The gum drop encrustation alone had taken him two hours to chisel off. Altogether he had spent the entire day on her cottage, which by the way was way the heck out in the middle of the forest, so there had been no place to buy lunch. All he had had was part of a stale gum drop. But there was nothing you could do. The forest was frontier territory as far as law enforcement was concerned. Out here, you took matters into your own hands. And when you were not not a witch or a magical creature, you kept those hands in your pockets and said “Yes ma'am, no ma'am.” But you never went back to that freakin' candy cottage again.

“Yes ma'am. But it took longer than I expected. And I have a family to feed.”

–

“And then she started asking me all these questions about the kids. How old they were, what their names were, what they liked to eat, with their favorite sweets were. It was creepy. A little lower on the left.”

The backrub had been going a long way towards making Clinton feel better about his day, but when he described the witch's reaction to mention of the children, his wife froze. Clinton wiggled his shoulders, but she didn't take the hint.

"What part of 'don't mention that you have children' didn't you understand?" She asked. Her hands clutched his shoulders convulsively. He bit back a cry of pain. "Did you say where you live? This is a witch we're talking about, not some inoffensive peasant."

"Please," he snorted. "Credit me with some sense. I told her we live on Cabbage St.; completely the other side of town."

Eventually she calmed down, but she stayed up all night, on watch, in the children's room. In the morning he made breakfast and almost pointed out to her that he had been right. You kids had been safe. The witch ... had done nothing.

Almost, he said those things. When the crier came by a couple of hours later with the shocking news that two children had been abducted from a home just across town, he was glad he kept his mouth shut.

010618b

The Icing On The Hut

She skims the cookies from the morning pool,

The chocolate syrup dripping from the net,

She lays them out to dry so carefully,

There’s chocolate chip and chocolate raisin too,

She fells the mighty marzipan and saws

It into disks; for roofing, almond bark,

Spun sugar gathered from sweet spiders’ webs

Becomes white curtains woven through the night.

It’s worth the time and risk of ant attack,

Those monstrous hexapods that stalk the Wood,

If she can lure plump children to her door,

She doesn’t want to eat them; heavens no!

She’ll have apprentices by hook or crook,

And drink their sweetened ichor when they’re ripe.