The Solemn Supper of Winifred Sanderson
Over 300 years had come and gone since Winnie was resurrected. Over twenty-five years after being defeated by three brats and a cat. Alone, she did sit at the supper table, silently consuming a flavorful reddish broth with pieces of meat floating in it. "'Tis a shame those two twits are not able to partake of this meal as well." She stated solemnly to herself.
Closing her eyes and thinking back, Winifred mused about the last night she and her sisters were living. A whirlwind of chaos trying to first steal the light of life from a bratty and disrespectful little eight year old girl. Then, as the older brother intervened, the elder of the three witches fought and clawed to steal his soul. After what seemed to be an eternity, the sun crested over the trees of a battle torn graveyard and In an instant, her body was transformed into a stone statue after her feet had touched the ground.
An explosion rocked the entire graveyard and all three witches had dissipated into the aethers. Coming to at the gates of the damned, the three sisters were greeted by their supreme master. "Thou incompetent sniveling fools…' he snarled, "'I hath granted thee life, twice! Yet thou hath failed me but again… I shalt not grant thee a return thrice!'"
"But, but Master… I beg of thee, allow me to return and I shalt succeed where my two sisters hath failed." Winifred implored. Glaring in her direction, the demon growled at her, "Fine, if thou fail me ever again, thou shalt be strung up and be fed off by my beasties…" Feeling the blood rush from her body down to her feet, fear prickled through her. "Master, I promise that I shalt not fail thee."
Her memories, as they resurged from the past to the present, yielded her to the meal at hand. Over in the corner laid bare a pile of bones from her latest quarry. There they would remain, for they could not be buried this eve. The moon was full and round and bright. It would give away what she had done this night.
As late as it was, there was a rapping at the door. The elder woman stood up and made her way to the origin of the distraction and opened the stout and ornate barrier. Heavy sheets of precipitation fell hard to the earth. "Good and kind madam,' the voice came at the door. '" I impress of you, might I come out of the elements and dry off in front of your fire?'"
As the words fell on her ears, the Dark One's face sneered in the visitor's direction. Hissing, she growled in response, "How dare thou claim that I, servant of the damned would give two flips about thy welfare. Be gone, before thou art simmered in my stew pot as well."
Again trying to attempt to gain access to the domicile, the intruder took yet another approach forward. In response, this mistress of the dark arts produced a menacing orb of pure glowing and crackling lightning in her hand. Brow furrowed, Winifred exclaimed, "One more step and thy head shalt pop from thy neck like champagne corks."
Heeding not her warning yet again, the interloper took a single step into the edifice. Deciding not to decapitate and instead to incinerate the fleshy bits of the chest cavity, Winifred passed her hand over the front of the intruder causing pain to wash over them like waves of a murky sea.
Slow and metred the pain continued to sear like mold overtakes a healthy pool. Writhing in agony, the trespasser eventually relented. "Please, please no more. I give up." The stranger heaved, to the point of tears. With a curl of wickedness to her lips, the dark hearted one again spoke, "Hmmm, much better. Maybe now thou shalt keep a civil tongue in my presence."
After what seemed an eternity, Winifred felt it was in her best interest to relent and heal the stranger. Allowing the interloper passage into her ramshackle abode. Eyes piercing as lasers, the dark one declared sternly, "I doth only do this for I believe thou hast learned thy lesson well. That and thou shalt be of some use to me sooner than thou thinks."
As has always been her way, this mistress of the dark arts has always been able to turn tribulation into triumph, it is why her name struck fear into the hearts of the villagers and her legend lived on for hundreds of years. This plight was no different. Finally able to emerge the threshold without complications of pain, a rough hewn maid robed in a beadle's attire. Very queer for this day and time, stood before the center of the main room.
Scanning the area with her eyes, the female cleric saw much. The items varied from potion bottles and elixirs to torture cages, various rotting body parts, to the most whimsical for a dark sorceress, a stuffed owl. Before her, on a pedestal was the most feared tome of all, Winifred's book of spells.
Out of nowhere resounded a shrill cry of rage. "Pay attention to it not.' The damned one muttered, '"'Tis but an unhappy servant who hath lost favor with me and is about to be replaced.'" Staring curiously, the woman inquired, "What do you mean?" Snatching her book up and grinning at the stranger, Winifred responded, "My dear, my kindness comes with a price. Thou shalt be useful as my eternal familiar." She shrieked with laughter.
Pointing a finger, the evil one began reciting a charm in Olde Gaelic. "De seothach latha tăn air adhart, atach mo smĕid air na bi! Do am-feasta gu mĕinn!!!"
In that lapse of time, the pain rolled in waves over the the body, it was excruciating. What seemed like hours, lasted in actuality only moments. A high piercing groan emitted from the woman's throat. "Noooo… pl-please help me!!!' the female cleric sobbed, 'I-I never agreed to this…'" she heaved.
"By intruding, thou gave thy permission." Winifred resounded darkly. Continuing to observe the transformation, the dark one grinned as the suffering soul continued to convulse in agony. The heaving of breath quickened as the woman's body began to change. First, the flesh began to slough off and was replaced with a swampish colored scaly hide. As her body began to twist and contort, a tail began to snake from her posterior. The pain had finally reached the point where she was no longer conscious. Making the metamorphosis less toilsome.
After an hour of waiting, Winifred grinned wolfishly in sheer glee as the newly transformed servant finally came to. "There is one thing that thou never cleared up for me dear…" Straining to awaken her newly formed red eyes, the servant retorted arrogantly, "that is?" Glaring back at her victim, "Thy name fool."
Mustering up enough strength in order to speak, the human turned creature thought for a moment as she laid there. "M-my name? I hmm, I do not remember." Grin becoming more sinister, Winifred responded, "allow me to make the decision easier for 'ye. Thy name from now on shalt be T. Boz." And with that, a heavy spiked leather collar was placed around her neck. There it remains until eternity.
The End, or is it?
