Short Story – Issue #4

"She's a witch!" the towns people screamed aloud. "Burn it! Burn that vile demon!"

This is one of those magical, er.. poor choice of words. 
Let me start again. 

This is one of those 'in the wrong place at the wrong time' situations, where my every move could quite literally be my last. 
The entire town seems to be after me, and all because I rented out a book at the library called 'Special Arts - The History Of Witches'. Yes, I have an interest in magic. I believe in the paranormal. I celebrate Halloween. Does that make me a witch? Well, according to the townsfolk, it does. They're hunting me. Chasing me in a mob of witch-hunting madness. That's all this is; madness. There's no logic behind this. 
Yet here I am, hiding for my life in an old doughnut shop across town. There aren't even any doughnuts in here. God, this is really messed up. Please lord just let me survive the night. I'll leave this town first thing in the morning. 

Just when I started to believe I was safe by those murderous madmen, I heard a loud banging on the door, followed by the sharp sound of shattering glass. 'This can't be good' I thought to myself. 
As I looked towards the source of the sounds, shivering in fear, I saw four, maybe five people enter the shop, and walk towards my hiding location. They seemed to be attracted to me, as if they knew exactly where I was. 
These people were wearing black robes, which had hoods to cover their faces in an eerie shadow. They smelled of a mix between burnt maple wood and fresh soil, as if they had just returned from a graveyard, or some kind of funeral service. They were tall, and inhumanely thin. And, they were now standing directly in front of me. 

An intense pain mysteriously engulfed my body. My vision slowly began to blur, and my life was hanging by an unusually short thread. 'This is the end' I thought to myself. 'This is what death feels like.' 

Then... Darkness. Nothing but darkness. 


Short Story - Issue #4
Doughnut Witches