The Witch's Lover by Scott O'Neill

An imp-like little fellow carried wildflowers toward a peculiar cottage. Oily smoke swathed its chimney. Gingerbread walls and buttercream window sashes bore nibble marks.

Children!

He sprinted through the doorway. Forgotten daisies tumbled away.

Familiar fingers clutched like claws through the oven grate.

My dearest Griselda! Burned! Murdered!

He knelt in a seething vigil. Hot tears splashed the charred fingertips.

At the witching hour, he proclaimed a grim oath. “A thousandfold suffering upon the children of mankind!”

My vengeance will be unending. No child will be safe. I’ll even steal babies from their mothers!  

Rumpelstiltskin vanished into the cursed night. 

 

 

About the Author

Scott writes reports and memorandums by day and speculative fiction by night, with short works published by various presses. You can find him on the socials as @wererooster.