The witch pulled up to the spot in the woods and opened the door. The pack of shadows swarmed after her, zipping around her ankles.
She approached the figure cautiously, with a clear mind, and pulled out the glass. It was almost done. She held the lens up and the shadows jumped through it, and coalesced into the smoky humanoid form.
They were made of stolen things, and things given away. Fears, melancholies, worries. Things the villagers had asked her to take, but thought gone forever. They would be a good assistant, and she hoped the villagers would accept them.
YOU ARE READING
Everyday Drabbles
Short StoryA drabble is a very short story one hundred words long. No more, no less. They are designed for maximum impact in the least amount of space. For 2019, I'll be posting a drabble every day.
