The Load-Bearing Witch

Miriam poured her tea. She was enjoying her time on the veranda, the slight chill of the air contrasting nicely with the heat of the tea. I put my soul into this house. It was so worth it. She sipped from the china cup, enjoying how the steam played in front of her, carrying the mint to her nose. She allowed herself a moment of pure bliss, slipping into a meditative state. I wonder how much longer the witch has to live?

She put the cup down and exhaled, opening her eyes. She rose, summoning her butler. She started to turn, but then stopped and turned back. She filled the teacup close to the brim, then picked up the cup and turned to the mansion. She entered the mansion through the open doors; she motioned for the butler to close them on his way out. He nodded, and she walked on. Time for today's business, I suppose. She smiled. But that does not mean I should neglect this lovely tea.

* * * * *

She entered the room. Inside were all of the usual cabinets, but she walked towards a table in the center, a chair on one side, and a cage with a fine mesh on the other. The tale had an ivory cane and a plate of almond cookies on it. She put her cup down and sat down in a silk-embroidered chair. She relaxed in the chair. “Soon, Robert, we may be able to have an actual conversation.”

She grabbed the cane and poked the cage. A single mealworm fell to the ground, but it was soon gobbled up by a green frog. She smiled. “One hopes that the death of the one who cursed you will release you. You were a handsome lad.” She consulted her silver watch. “Francine should be drinking the cyanide even as we speak.”

She looked at the frog. “Like me, she always has tea this time of day.” She sat down and put the cane back. She hesitated a moment before smiling and grabbing a cookie. She dipped her cookie in the tea, swishing it around, and then took a nibble from it. Today I will finally have it all. She put the cookie down to slide forward to sip her tea and took a deep sip.

She sputtered. Her eyes went wide. The cup fell to the floor. The cup shattered. Miriam fell forward, falling out of her chair. Between the dizziness and breathing problems, she saw an older woman with red hair enter the room.

She tried to sit back, but a sudden wave of nausea struck her. She pitched forward as the contents of her stomach came up. She tried to move, but her body would not let her raise anything up. She turned her head to the woman. She could only sputter out one word:: “Francine.”

The redhead squatted down next to Miriam. “Seriously, Miriam? I noticed that someone had trifled with my tea mix and it was nothing to figure out what the something special was that had been added to it.” She leaned down. “Everyone has security cameras today, Miriam. EVERYONE.” She leaned back. “Your butler has been mine since last night.”

Miriam scowled. “You---”

Francine smiled. “Yes, Miriam, I'm a witch.” Miriam smoldered. Francine stood and walked over to the cage. She inspected it, even running her fingers across the latch. She kept her eyes on the cage. “The cyanide was in the cookies, by the way; putting it in the tea is so droll.”

She pulled open the latch and reached in to grab the frog inside. She pulled it out. She inspected it. “Little Robert. He was eighteen when I cursed him.” She looked up. “What was it for again...? Oh yes.” She walked over to Miriam and squatted again. “He broke my window, trying to scare me.” She looked into the frog's eyes. “Didn't work, did it?” She cackled a bit.

She put her fingers on Miriam's neck. “The pulse is starting to slow. That means cardiac arrest is soon. I doubt you'll survive that.” She looked back into the frog's eyes. “Miriam, who has survived so much else, dead by heart attack.” She sat down next to the prone woman. “You've survived plagues, wars, witch hunts, and even werewolf attacks, but you're going to die by poisoned cookie.” She chuckled. “I think I'm going to grant you a final boon.”

She stood, then leaned down to put the frog on the floor. She stood back up, concentrated a moment, then snapped her fingers. The frog glowed, its form grew, and in an instant, it had been replaced by that of a naked athletic youth. He was paralyzed by confusion.

Francine looked down at the woman. “Enjoy the view, Miriam; it's your last.” She looked back at the youth appraisingly. “Good one to go out on, though.”

She whistled. The youth looked at her. Francine did the slightest gesture. Wind ruffled her hair, her eyes glowed, and small horns grew from her forehead. “Run, boy, run.” The youth gulped and then took off like the wind. In heartbeats, he had hit the door and disappeared. She dismissed the glamer, smiling. “Now I guess we'll both leave.” She turned to leave.

“One thing, Francine,” Miriam painfully whispered.

Francine turned to look at her. “Oh?”

Miriam smiled. “Look at the house.” Miriam convulsed and then relaxed. The house shuddered as she began to decay rapidly.

Francine's brows furrowed. She then focused her vision on the house, then the aura of the house. “You grew this house from your soul?” She mouthed some sort of oath, then turned and ran. The house began to shake and rattle. It began to tear itself apart. Francine was running through the house, looking for an exit. The pillars outside crumbled. She finally saw the door she had entered the mansion through. She smiled, then pushed herself to run even faster.

The entire second floor fell.

In moments, the house was nothing but ruins. Then the land surrounding the former building shuddered, and the remains were absorbed back into the earth. There were soon no signs that the mansion had ever existed.

* * * * *

Francine's coven cackled as they gossiped about the two as they went through Francine's home, dividing up her charms, potions, and ingredients. It was agreed it would be a long time before they forgot about the witch who brought the house down.