May I Please Introduce Myself?

...just an example of what I'm inspired to compose....occasionally I'll rhyme supernatural prose.


A Crow’s Lament

By Barbara Edwards

On the edge of a sea, in a broken down bungalow, lived two wretched witches and one disheartened crow. One witch was uglier. The other was meaner. Yet each insisted she possessed the most hideous looks and demeanor.

"My mug is sooo monstrous, “Percy would proudly proclaim. "I hold the place of honor in the Haunted Hall of Fame." "Big deal!" Beatrice would boldly boast, her face turning an even darker shade of green. "At the annual Witches’ Ball, I was crowned Most Unbecoming Queen."

Soon, simmering tempers would boil and bubble. The terrified crow trembled on his perch, expecting the usual trouble. Insults turned to incantations. A war of mystical words, not for the ears of impressionable children or poor defenseless birds. Spells invoking the most vile beasts to execute the witches’ will. Such intent to wish harm on each other, abused their magical skill.

The waning of each new moon reflected the crow’s growing despair. For how was fate to know an unspoiled soul was hidden in the witches’ lair?

Time drug on for the hapless bird and the ferocious battles persisted. The hexes exchanged by the hateful hags grew even more violent and twisted.

Then one blustery evening, late in November, exploding through a charcoal cloud on a broom of glowing embers, Gelinda the powerful, elder witch unexpectedly appeared. She swooped down from the skies in a fiery flash, stepping lightly from her smoldering broom. It crumbled to steam and ash. She blew open the witches’ front door with one infernal breath of air, tossing back the two cowardly crones cowering there.



"Welcome, most evil one," Percy stammered as she struggled to her feet. "Do come in. May I take your cape and hat? Please, will you have a seat?" Shoving Percy aside, Beatrice bubbled, "Your Greatness excuse our clumsy welcome. May I offer refreshment? A cup of lizard tongue tea stirred with an old troll’s thumb?"

There was no answer. It was silent as a sealed tomb. Gelinda stepped from the shadows to the center of the dismal room. Slowly she brought her arms up from beneath her heavy cape. The crow frantically looked for a darkened corner to hide, but there would be no escape.

"Such atrocities have infected my poor ears," the elder witch purred. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, a sensation felt rather than heard. "Squandering your powers is a grave violation of the coven's doctrine."

Appearing contrite, Beatrice and Percy bowed their heads to conceal evil grins. "While you've engaged in harebrained folly and wasting your talents on trifling nonsense, the villagers have enjoyed a carefree and untroubled existence.”

The smell of sulphur permeated the room as the elder witch’s anger flared. Beatrice and Percy’s smirks promptly withered. For once they both were scared.

Gelinda set a top spinning on the wooden table by her side. The witches watched the dancing toy twirl, swoop and glide. “This trinket will gage your mystical conduct. Use your powers for the evil intended and the top will continue a steady gyration. Squander your magical talents and face possible annihilation.”

With her final cryptic syllable, a frigid wind blew through room and the elder witch vanished. Pointing a bony finger, Beatrice screamed, “This is your fault! We’ll be shunned or worse, banished.” Percy’s face darkened to an emerald hue. She growled, in response, “None of this would have happened had it not been for you!”

Her lips began to move in a silent chant. Instantly, the single potted cactus became a snarling carnivorous plant. With a snap of her fingers and a nod of her head, Beatrice turned Percy’s green face red.

Too frightened to watch, the crow covered his eyes with trembling wings. Suddenly, the top began to skip and jump around the room as if it were on springs. The walls began to heave and roll, the floor to surge and fall. The witches stumbled to what had once been a door, but was now a solid wall. The crow held on to his wooden perch with all his might and vigor. The witches clawed futilely at the walls, but there was no escape. After all, their mutual misdeeds had pulled the trigger.

Wielding their wands in a deadly duel, the witches were callously breaking every coven rule. The twirling top was now a thundering twister, spinning faster and faster with each rotation. The witches didn’t notice the toy’s frenzied flight as both were intent on malicious retaliation. Like a ravenous vacuum, the top pulled every morsel of magic out of the room, out of the boiling cauldron, the cupboards and even the witches’ brooms.

Once the retribution was complete, the top rolled to an easy stop and the two former witches struggled to their feet.

Now, all that remained in the broken down bungalow were two doddering old crones and one relieved crow.