The crones hunched shoulders trembled, a soft serpents hiss as if leaking gas made them realize she was laughing, "Send me back a man carrying a bag of jewels, but he must be young and fit if he is to survive a forest unkind to strangers, a lady of simple means sometimes has a taste for grander things and those pretty sparklers shall feed for many summers."
"You won’t kill him?" the king stood his ground.
The witch drew a `t` over her chest, "Cross my heart."
His bloodline and worse his wife’s happiness at stake, the king reluctantly agreed but didn`t move to shake her hand.
"Fine, I shall send the jewels at first light."
"No!" the crone barked, making them fall back, apologetically, composing herself she sat back down, "it must be tonight or never, surely you agree a few rubies is small price to pay for new life, and with her majesty’s beauty it is sure to be one fit for the gods themselves."
Mumbling agreement, the queen bid them gone before the rose died.
Yet the king seemed uncertain to step foot outside again, "Your crazy if you think I`m going back out there."
The witch soothed his worries, "Don`t fear the dark and what lurks inside, for this night only you are the safest couple to walk these woods, nothing shall interfere with your stroll, I assure you."
Killiks mouth glass, he felt the blood go down as he swallowed, "No motions or magic, call me a taxi or you can-"
Pushing him out before he said something to encore her wrath and sour the deal, Isobella waved good night and closed the door behind her. She started skipping, happily, something she hadn`t done since she was a little girl. "Oh honey it`s happening, it`s really happening."
Alone at last, the hag laughed and laughed.
Literary Lunes Magazine: December 2011 Issue Page 12
