"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Before Henry stood a witch of legendary power, one feared by many and revered by others… and she was wearing nothing but a black Metallica t-shirt, striped ankle socks, and hot pink briefs.

"Like what you see?" She was leaning with an elbow on the doorframe and cheek resting against her knuckles. The wavy blonde mess that was her hair, the dark circles under her eyes, and the scratchiness of her voice suggested she'd just woken up (or given up on life in general).

Henry didn't want to say anything, but he had to because this was the kind of situation one could not just simply walk away from.

"Are you… the witch?"

"You're lookin' at what's left of her, kid." She folded her arms and raised her brows upon quickly noticing the sickle on the ground. "Well, since you had the balls to knock on my door, might as well offer you a drink. Hey, don't just stand there! Come in."

With reluctance, Henry followed her inside. His stomach dipped the minute he stepped through the door.

The inside of her house was in deplorable condition. Bookshelves lined both the left and right walls, but most of their contents were scattered about the floor. Potion bottles, jars of what looked like human organs, old books with worn and tethered covers, and empty booze bottles served as obstacles to walking.

There was a small round table in the center of the mess with a kitchenette behind. The Witch pulled two beer from the fridge and popped the caps with a bottle opener. Vapor wafted from the mouths of the bottles.

"Go on, have a seat. The chairs don't bite. Not anymore, anyway."

It's when he looked back at the Witch that Henry noticed she had the word 'FOXY' written in big black letters on the back of her underwear. Reluctantly, he sat down and tried not to think about it.

"Nice bachelor pad you've got."

"I'm between relationships right now," the Witch said in her defense, bringing the bottles to the table and having a seat. "Things are a little messy."

"Just a little?" He took the cold bottle in his hand but didn't drink from it quite yet.

Noticing, the Witch shot him a look. "It's not poison."

"Some people seem to think it is."

"Screw that." She wasted no time before adding, "And let's just cut to the chase; why the hell are you here? I don't get visitors, and if I'm wrong—which I'm not—you came here ready to kill me."

Finally Henry took drink; if he was going to banter with a witch, he might as well have alcohol in his bloodstream. Wait. That didn't sound like a good idea.

"Only if I had to."

"So you've heard the rumors?" She nearly sung, showing amusement for the first time.

"Are they only rumors?"

When she paused, Henry knew she wasn't going to give a straight answer. "You know, people used to cower at the mere mention of my name. I used to spread pain and tragedy. When I was in my prime, I was evil as evil could be. I started a plague once. I'd set entire villages on fire just because I could. I even completely took out every wifi signal in an entire city once. You don't get much eviler than that!"

"What happened?"

"My motivation went to shit. Instead of turning rain into blood, I started breaking up couples. Instead of putting hexes on rabbits to turn them into bloodthirsty beasts, I made a few cows sick. Then one day I sent my arch nemesis to another dimension by accident. Without her around, my will to be evil grew fainter and fainter until it just… died. Now look at me! I'm a hot mess!"

"So you quit the whole magic thing?"

"Hell no! I just need a good reason to start stirring up trouble again. Something really exciting to get me in the mood for some good ol' doom and destruction."

Henry lowered his voice. "What if I told you that the world is gonna end in three days?"

She scoffed. "What? Like I've never heard that before."

"Yeah, she didn't think you'd be up to the challenge either."

Bingo—he hit a nerve. "She?"

"You've got competition, Witchy."

"I'm listening, kid."

The farmer leaned back in his, pleased with himself for getting this far but knowing the challenge wasn't over quite yet. He had to make these next few minutes count.

"There's a witch in town. Name is Sandra. She has an underling named Michelle. Really sick, perverted—"

"How sick?"

"She masturbates to snuff films. Don't ask me how I know that. I wish I didn't."

"How the hell did you get tangled up with these whack jobs?"

"Well," Henry wet his lips. "The thing is, Sandra is apparently hundreds of years old but drinks virgin blood in order to stay alive, and…"

"And?"

"You know."

The Witch gave him a look, then nodded her head when it hit her. "Ooh. You're a virgin. Okay, got it."

"That's not exactly true, but anyway… They're apparently on a quest for ultimate power—"

The Witch scoffed. "So cliche. When will these amateurs ever learn?"

"—And as I was sort of running for my life," the Witch snickered, "I heard Sandra screaming about how in three days she was going to 'rain down death and destruction upon the whole of Echo Village and everyone will suffer' and the flesh will melt off our bones and we'll become sacrifices to the Dark Lord."

"She said it just like that?"

"Maybe. I was paraphrasing."

The Witch drummed her fingers on the table, chin resting in her palm. Henry waited silently as she hummed in contemplation.

"So, what you're telling me is that if I join your little militia, I get to further prove that I'm the baddest and strongest witch in the world, and I get to possibly see people melt?" She slammed her beer bottle on the table and Henry jumped. "Count me in!"

"That was surprisingly easy."

"Look at me, kid. Look around. I've given up. I would have taken any sorry excuse to get back into the swing of things." She paused for some time. "Gimme that sickle."

"What? Oh, right…" Henry reached into his tiny rucksack and shuffled around until he found the sickle.

"How the hell did you fit that in there?"

"Don't ask me. It just happens."

"If we're going up against magic, you need to be prepared." Grabbing the sickle, the Witch stood up and held it out at arms length. "You might want to stand back," she warned. After Henry jumped out of his seat and took a few gracious steps back, the Witch closed her eyes to concentrate her powers.

A dark aura formed over her hand and latched onto the sickle, slowly spreading from the handle to the the shiny blade. But it not only consumed the sickle, it transformed the sickle. The wood blackened, elongated, the blade extended and took a new form with dips and curves. No longer was it the sickle a simple tool for farming; it had mutated into a scythe.

Henry stared at the ghastly weapon breathlessly until the Witch swung it at him and he was staring into the blade.

"Ever heard of Cursed Tools?"

He swallowed. "Am I looking at one?"

"A replica, anyway." Much to his relief, the Witch lowered the scythe and handed it to him. "Centuries ago, powerful and magical weapons were created by a sorcerer—"

"Wait, someone decided to make evil weapons out of… farm tools? Is that what you're telling me?"

"We all do things we regret."

"No kidding."

"As I was saying… the Cursed Tools were a threat to humanity so the Harvest King created his own tools; these were exact replicas of the Cursed Tools, but they possessed holy power and were known as the Blessed Tools. The Harvest King and the sorcerer battled using these weapons but it was a stalemate. After the battle, neither sets were ever seen again. Rumor has it the originals are scattered deep within the mines of Mineral Town and Forget-Me-Not Valley."

Henry stared at her with a slack-jaw, brown eyes wide and sparkling. "So…," he started slowly, "I could kill someone with this thing?"

"Now we're talkin'. That scythe is a magical weapon so it's going to royally screw those two witches and protect you from any of their fireballs. But don't think you can just run around cutting people's heads off. You couldn't even if you wanted to. The blade may look sharp but if you try to slice anyone in half, it goes right through them. Trust me, I've tried."

"I don't plan on cutting anyone's head off." He paused. "Well, actually…"

The Witch walked to her window, looking out past the dying grass at the little houses lined up neatly side by side though packed in tight. "You need to warn those people, that way when they're all burning in a sea of flames you can at least tell them you told 'em so."

"Yeah, that'll work. My friends already think I'm insane." Though it took a second, Henry froze the moment he realized what he'd said. Before he could regret anything, the Witch's voice demanded his attention.

"Of course they're not gonna believe that one of their own is plotting against them." She turned back to him. "That's why I have a better idea."


"Master Amir will be with you shortly," Sanjay said as he poured tea.

Taking the cup, Henry nodded. "Thanks for inviting me over."

"And thank you for coming on such short notice. We were both relieved when Dunhill came by earlier and told us that you were safe. Master Amir seemed quite worried over your absence."

Henry brought the teacup to his lips. "He was?"

"Perhaps you've left an impression on him. If you need me, I'll be finishing lunch preparations."

With a bow, Sanjay slipped into the kitchen and Henry was left to think about all of the other things he would like to leave on Amir. However, his blissful fantasies were cut short when he heard someone screaming from upstairs.

"Help! Help!"

It was Amir.

Henry was caught between running upstairs and getting Sanjay; he could feel himself wanting to jump up but indecision was keeping his ass planted on the couch. Assuming that Amir would only scream for help in a real emergency, he finally jumped to his feet and took off upstairs.

"I"m coming!" He reassured as the cries for help persisted. Finally, after opening the wrong door twice, Henry found the source of the calamity and he rushed in with reckless abandon.

It was the bathroom.

Amir was standing there.

In nothing but a robe.

Nothing but a robe.

"Oh, thank goodness you—" He stopped and stared at the frozen farmer in the doorway. "Oh. You're not Sanjay."

"Y-You were screaming for help?" Henry managed to sputter.

"Well, yes. It's just a funny little thing I do."

Henry's head spun.

Funny? little…thing? fuNNY LITTLE THING?

"You see, I do have a bit of a problem…" Amir pulled a gorgeous bottle—perfume of some sort?—from a nearby shelf. "Usually after I've dried off from the bath, Sanjay will oil my body. It is very important in having smooth skin and a nice complexion. Some of the places are quite hard to reach, however, which is why I was calling for help."

"So you… you want…"

The robe hung off Amir's bare shoulders and all Henry could do was stare. Without warning, the robe came off Amir's shoulder and fell to his feet. Henry sucked in air so fast that it hurt and suddenly he felt lightheaded. Probably because all the blood was rushing to his penis.

"You would only have to lightly rub this oil onto my back and lower back—Henry, are you alright? You're making a strange noise… like some sort of animal. A dying squirrel, perhaps?"

"Wh-what are y-you talking abOUT?"

"Are you shaking? Henry, is everything—there you go! Making that sound again!"

"H-Hnnghhrghh…."

"Your face is completely red! Oh, don't tell me that you're shy… Henry, it's alright! We're both men, here."

"Th-that's the p-problem…"

"Oh, come now… Here," Amir put the bottle and Henry's shaking hands and slowly turned around. "Just dab a bit on your hand and start rubbing."

With one look at that sweet ass, Henry was pushed to his limit. An extreme dizziness came over and he was sure he heard horns sounding from the gates of Heaven. There was a light up ahead in the distance and it whispered sweet nothings to him. He reached out to grab it, but then everything went black.


Sandra hadn't moved from her bed since the ordeal. On one hand, she was resting to gather up her powers in preparation for the apocalypse. On the other hand, Henry had sort of blinded her with ice cream syrup so she would have had little success moving around anyway.

"Michelle!" She crowed. "Bring me a glass of 'wine!' I thirst."

"Yes, Master!" The pink haired witch had been waiting on Sandra hand-and-foot ever since the old bag was blinded. Running to the wine cupboard, Michelle glanced over the bottles. "Do you want rat blood, bat blood, or alligator blood?"

"Is there anymore mandrake infused Chupacabra blood flavor?"

"Uhhh, nope! We're all out."

"Oh, just give me the damn bat blood, then."

After pouring the wine, Michelle handed the glass to her bedridden mentor. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?"

Sandra took a sip and breathed in. "That really hits that spot, that bat blood." Then she pursed her lips. "Let's see… Fluff my pillow, turn the damned air conditioner on, straighten up the room, change my diaper—"

"Master Sandra…"

"Is that an objection I hear? Don't you want me to be at maximum power when we destroy this pathetic excuse for a village?!"

"What could those idiots possibly do to stop us, even if you were at only a tenth of your overall power? They're weak, mortal, oblivious…"

"Yes, yes, I know that, but don't you just want to see Hell rain down on them with all its power and might? And guess who can't make that happen if someone doesn't change her diaper?!" She went on to grumble, "Besides, you owe me for letting that virgin get away…"

"Yes, Master."

With a sigh, Michelle began to do Sandra's dirty work—again. She was always the finding the virgins, gathering ingredients for potions, making blood sacrifices. There was no doubt that Michelle thought highly of Sandra, but she longed for the day where she could stand on her own using her own strength and malevolence. But this wasn't the day, and yet again she found herself bound to doing mundane work for perhaps one of the only people she cared about.

After fluffing the pillows and turning the TV to General Hospital and so on, Michelle cut the lights and headed out. However, she stopped in the doorway before leaving. Looking back at the close-to-dozing off Sandra, she said quietly, "Goodnight, Master."


"So I'm really sorry about passing out in your bathroom."

Although Henry missed lunch while he was out, Amir and Sanjay offered him cake as compensation. He agreed without hesitation.

"It is quite alright." Amir drank tea across from him on the opposite couch. "The fumes from the oil can be a bit overwhelming to those not accustomed to it."

"Yeah, let's stick with that."

Sanjay offered the farmer a warm smile. "How are your enjoying your cake?"

"It's heavenly. I really like whatever this creamy stuff is."

"Ah, that would be a paste I created from spider monkey brains."

Henry froze, refusing to chew the bite he'd just taken.

"I'm just making jest!" Sanjay laughed and Henry nervously laughed along. "That is actually white chocolate and almond frosting."

"Henry," Amir stated, leaning forward, "You haven't yet told us why you disappeared for the weekend. I know that it may very well be none of our business, but we're a tight-knit community, you see… We tend to worry when someone goes missing without a word, especially someone such as our farmer."

"Uhh… I was just visiting family. I didn't tell anyone? You sure about that?"

Amir frowned. "No? I don't believe anyone knew of it."

"Geez. Silly me. Well, hey, I'm here now. Alive. In one piece. All my blood still in my body where it belongs. No mortal wounds whatsoever."

"Yes… And we are all very glad for it."

"Right…" The farmer poked at his cake. He knew he needed to change subject, fast. "So, hey, I've got a question… Why Echo Village?"

"Pardon?"

"There a hundred other cities that are arguably much nicer, and yet you want to choose… here. Why?"

Amir's entire demeanor changed; hands came around his tea cup, shoulder drew closer together, eyes softened.

"Echo Village is actually our sister city. At first I was a bit skeptical of staying here, but I quickly learned something very important… this place is beautiful. The people lead simple, honest lives. Although some might be strange or unsettling, these people care about each other. They'll sit on benches and talk to each other for hours on summer nights, they'll all go out in groups and gather firewood during cold, winter mornings. This is a place where the most important thing is community and harmony." He looked down into his tea and continued in a soft voice, "I grew up around liars and politicians. Though my family was caring, the rest of the world was not so kind. When I go back to my home each autumn, I end up missing Echo Village terribly."

After a moment Sanjay added, "We've both grown very close to the people here. Though this place is very humble, it was also very welcoming. We feel like we're at home here."

Amir look up at Henry with a soft smile. "I would be heartbroken if anything happened to this place. It is just as Sanjay says… our home away from home."

Henry was quiet. Never had he imagined that anyone could feel so strongly about a small village in the middle of nowhere. And never had he imagined that he of all people—a guy who tried to distance himself from attachments with apathy and sarcasm—would be moved by heartfelt words from an acquaintance.

But it was happening. In that moment that Henry swore to himself he wouldn't let Sandra and Michelle destroy Echo Village. He looked at his hosts with serious eyes and just as silence was setting in, he gave them his promise. "If anything happens to Echo Village, you can blame me. And because I really don't want to let you down, nothing is gonna happen."


The next morning was cooler than others. A soft breeze rustled the grass and leaves as Neil and Rod headed their horse carts for the plaza just like they did any other day. However, when they got closer they noticed a large group of townfolk had gathered around; something was happening, but they couldn't see what it was. Leaving their carts behind, they ran in for a better look.

Neil seemed genuinely excited when they approached the crowd. "Oh boy, public execution!"

"This is not a public execution," droned Allen.

Ignoring him, Neil stood on his tiptoes to peek his head up over the crowd.

Rod began jumping up and down to get a better look too. "Hey, hey! What's goin' on? What do you see, Neil?"

"I think that's Henry in the middle there. Oh yeah. I'm gonna enjoy this. What do you think it's gonna be? Firing squad? Guillotine? Waterboarding? Please tell me it's waterboarding."

"Neil, you're terrible!" Rod whined. "You're seriously gonna make me tear up!"

Allen brought an arm around Rod and shot Neil a glare. "Shhh, don't listen to him, honey. He has emotional problems brought on by a childhood that lacked compassion."

Just then Henry's voice broke through the murmuring of the small crowd.

"Hey, everyone! I just need your attention for a couple minutes!"

Neil shoved his hands into his pockets. "Just glad he didn't make a fucking Slim Shady joke."

"Is he using a traffic cone as a megaphone?"

"Sadly."

[ muffled rap music in the distance ]

"Sorry, sorry!" Clement called out before turning his boombox off.

"Okay, that was weird as hell." Henry shook his head and brought the cone back to his mouth. "I have some grave news, but also some good news!" There were gasps among the crowd and the murmuring picked up again. It was a few moments later that Neil and Allen and Rod noticed Henry look at them. It was a pleading look, as if he were begging them for something, trying to tell them something. But the look lasted only a few seconds and none of them could successfully read into it.

"That witch," Henry continued, making a wild gesture pointing to the west side of the village, "in that scary looking black house over there…" He paused, let the suspense build, and when he knew the crowd was shivering with anticipation, he delivered. "…Is going to kill every last one of us."