Prompt 26 - haunted
When Scabior and Greyback were young, they used to visit Scabior's aunt Gertrude during the summer holidays. She was a nice lady, but she was a big lady, her ample bosom rising like the peaks of two great mountains.
Greyback often joked about the size of her breasts, saying that they could probably use her bra as a tent and camp out in the woods. This angered Scabior, who loved his aunt very much and didn't like Greyback making fun of her.
"When she dies," Greyback would say, laughing and elbowing Scabior in the side, "her spirit will probably possess that black bra of hers. You know, the lacy one we saw hanging on the clothes line, flapping in the wind like some gigantic Lethifold - " It was here that his sentence ended abruptly, dissolving into raucous laughter as he leaned forward and slapped his knee. "Haha, the haunted bra of Scabior's Aunt Gertrude! Watch she doesn't strangle you with it in your sleep."
Time passed. And although his anger subsided, Scabior never forgot about how Greyback used to tease him about his aunt's weight. It lingered in the back of his mind, remaining there long after her death when Scabior was a teenager. Then one day Scabior saw his chance for revenge.
It came during autumn, when they were camping in a region that known for its unsavory creatures. The fog was thick upon the ground, blurring the features of the skeletal trees, their limbs quivering, rattling with each deathly sigh that blew through the woods.
The moon had risen above the treeline when Greyback ventured outside, his bladder full from drinking too much Firewhiskey. He'd barely gone six feet when something flew at him from the bushes, its cloth-like form tangling about his limbs and obscuring his vision.
The frightened werewolf howled, panicking as he was enveloped by a swath of fabric. He clawed at the material, screaming loud enough to wake the dead, then tripped over an exposed tree root and fell in some brambles, still shrieking like a terrified school girl as his fellow Snatchers emerged from their tents.
They watched him rolling and flailing, mud sticking to his clothing, thorns piercing his flesh. One of the Snatchers raised his wand, muttering an incantation that caused a beam of light to cut across the forest floor.
They gasped when they saw what Greyback was fighting against. And then they laughed, pointing at the oversized bra that covered his head. One strap had been torn and was wrapped around his left ear, a generous portion of lace covering his left eye.
"Oi! Greyback!" Scabior called out, joining his Snatchers and standing at the front of the group. "Looks like you were righ 'bout my aunt comin' back to 'aunt us. Prob'ly shouldn't 'ave made fun of 'er like tha."
Greyback lifted a trembling hand, his heart pounding against his ribcage as he grasped the torn strap, staring at it as though it were a being from another world. Was this some kind of joke, or had Scabior's aunt really come back to haunt him? He wasn't sure. But from that day on he never went near any women wearing a lacy, black bra.