The Curse of Witchy Things

Inspired by Sarah, wand maker & friend of witchy things

Creaking chains screeched against metal as the wind blew. Everyone thought they were safe, even Sarah. Despite being into witchy things, Sarah never expected the malicious creature to raise its head from underneath.

A few days ago, it reached out of the wooden grains in the smooth, sanded surface, striking a bird who dropped a lovely dollop of white and black stool on its surface. The bird angered the demon, awakening it.

It slept for years waiting for someone to recognize it, for someone to say hello and feed it a meal made from small children. The face stretched like a pliable plastic pushing out of the wooden surface. Chains clanged as the demon reached away from the wood, smelling the scent of a child in the distance. Using the chains, the face pulled itself to a metal pole above its cursed home.

Looking over the fence line, it watched two children play, dancing happily in the raining water from a sprinkler system.

The face groaned, “Play with me!”

A child turned off the sprinkler. “Did you hear that?”

The face mimicked the voice of the child, “Play with me!”

Curious, as children often are, they pushed through a loose board in the fence line to inspect the source of the voice. When they peeked inside the yard, they saw the wooden board swinging in the empty air.

The demon mimicked the other child, “Come. Play with me.”

Excited at the prospect, the children rushed into the yard. They fought over who would go first as they pulled on the board with selfishness. A face rippled in the wood grain with a vicious smile.

The board swung forward, using the chains to wrap around each of the children. Pulling them to the demon, the chains sealed the children’s doom.

The creature enjoyed a meal of fresh, young flesh, a meal it hadn’t tasted in ages after being bound to the chains by a wizard. It savored the warm blood, the taste of innocence.

Sarah watched it on her security camera days later. Reports of the missing children placed the blame on her. The parents, with a similar security system, blamed her when they watched the children slide through the fence while the chains swung, connected to something hidden.

Sarah watched in shock as the bird’s life ended violently in a blur of feathers, blood, and broken feet. Holding back vomit, she stared as the children disappeared into the maw of a demon reaching out of the board and using the chains to choke their screams.
Knowing witchy things, she grabbed her wand from a shelf above the pile of half-finished wands she worked hard to imbue with magic for her witchy friends. She walked into the back yard, pointed it at the demon, and shouted, “En fuego!”

A surge of orange energy built along the wand’s spiral edges, concentrating at the tip. The energy burst violently into the air, sending an enormous fireball towards the board swinging in the emptiness.

The board exploded in a cloud of dust and splintered wood.

Satisfied, Sarah walked back into her home. Frustrated, she mumbled, “That’s the last time I buy a swing from a goblin. God damn mimics!”