Odd Tales #1

Bruce skips merrily through the enchanting forest whistling a lively tune, dragging his sweet Annabell closely behind. Dressed in his Sunday-best and smelling of sweet fragrances the gentleman courts his lover around a crystal-clear pond and up and over a plump hill. It is here in this place that the pair had finally arrived to the sacred spot beneath a large weeping willow tree. Bruce lays out a quilted blanket that his grandmother handmade for him in his earlier years, before unpacking their picnic basket. He reads off the contents in a very official manner only with a cheerful note to his already pleasant voice. "Two silver platters? Check. Two silver goblets? Check. Two silver spoons, forks, and knives. Check,check,check. Two bottles of Wine, Riesling for milady and Pinot Noir for yours truly. Check and check. Ripe purple grapes, cheese and crackers for snacking. Check. And last but not least smoked salmon steaks and french-bread croissants for the main course. Check and check." the man is so pleased with himself he is positively glowing.

He drinks his wine and eats a bit of cheese, before frolicking whimsically off into a nearby meadow pulling on a length of string attached to a kite for flying, he so did enjoy the feel of a kite being teased by the lively breeze of the open countryside. His kite was blue like the sky around it and it had a long red tail with yellow ribbons tied to the tail at varies lengths, that made swooshing noises as they played in the wind.

Annabell lay still on the ground as always, her once upon a time beautiful wedding dress was worn with stains and tattered, mangled to shreds by being drug around the roughness of the Earthen-floor. Her eyes were open wide and dull with a haunting paleness, that matched the rest of her. Her skin was as pale as the fresh fallen snow of winter no longer did it resemble the crust of a perfectly baked apple pies crust. Her hair had grown since she last came to this spot but it no longer shinned of gold and brown, it was now a dull dirty brown and was tangled beyond redemption.

Bruce laughs as he plays away the afternoon before returning to his motionless lover, taking his spot by her side he finishes his meal, and even helps Annabell by eating hers as well. "I'm sorry my darling, but you didn't look like you were even slightly interested in dinning with me today. Hope you don't mind?" He says apologetically as he stares at her doll-like feminine figure, that has begun to attract flies. The smell that Annabell gives off was pungent and reeked of rot and decay.

After having a conversation with his lover for a spell, sitting contently in his hollowed place beside her ever-resting bosom. Bruce remarks how funny she was and leans over her placing a kiss upon her clammy chalk colored cheek, before whispering sweet nothings inside of her ears that are not able to hear them.

Before the scene could become increasingly more uncomfortable a shadowy dark figure steps out from behind the weeping willow tree. The figure has the silhouette of an old hag and the voice matches her twisted form perfectly as her voice is as the ravens croak. "I have been watching you for sometime now Mr Bruce."

The eternally dedicated albeit insane widower scurries back in horror as his eyes glare up at the old Crone of a Witch, whom has ensnared him with an evil gaze. He is now under her spell as she continues to converse with the poor madman. "I can give you back that which has been stolen from you." His eyes that should not be able to leave the Hags own mystical gaze is able to break free for only a moment as they stare downward at the lifeless remains of his beloved Annabell. "Yes! Yes to whatever it is that you require!" He answers her knowing of her by reputation as being a dark deal maker.

The hags cruel thin lips curl up into a wicked smile, her eyes burn like the very pits of hell. "Whatever I require from you it shall be. Your wish will be granted with the rising of tomorrows sun." She finishes. Before throwing the man down a shovel and pointing to the ground. "Dig your sweet Annabell a grave and place her within. When the sun rises, so will she."

Bruce greedily grabs the shovel quickly gathering himself to his feet and begins to dig. He gets about seven shovel-heads worth of dirt drawn from the ground before his body shakes with the fear of the unknown. "And what is it that you require from me?"

The Old Hag begins to walk away into a conjured up fog that fills the forest about them, before she stops for a moment with her reply. "That is for me to know. And for you to give me when I require it." She croaks with a sound of slight amusement laced within her call. After she speaks she vanishes from his sight, disappearing into the foreboding fog as if being swallowed up.

Bruce regrets nothing as he continues to dig, he looks like the most brilliantly happy grave-digger there had ever of been. His muscles ache, his heart races, his eyes burn with chaos, his forehead drips with sweat. He would be sore by dawn when his love would raise from her grave as the Crone foretold. He would rest by her once he had her under the ground, he would collapse beside her grave and rest here until dawn.

As Told By Naamah