This is a new piece of work (yes, I know this is for past works, but I had no place to put this) which I created in a special English lesson at my school based around the word ‘Twilight’, and Myths and Legends. I was with a group to create the character and setting but did the piece of writing alone. It’s also one of the shortest story segments I’ve ever done!
I took a step.
Just one step, but it was enough to see her sitting there.
The shaft of icy moonlight cut into the clearing, pushing through the bushy leaves of the gloomy forest. It doused everything in its cool beam, but could not overcome the fierce fire that was in the center of that clearing.
That was where she was sitting: beside the fire. She was also throwing objects into the burning inferno.
I took another step, still at least four metres away from the creature. This time, I could see the dirty rags she was wearing, and those that she also seemed to be throwing into the fire. After a moment of watching her, I became aware that the woman was muttering- chanting even- under her breath.
In the next step, I rotated myself slightly, enough to see her face. At first, I thought it was just the light, but then I could see that she was entirely grey. Grey rags, grey hair (although this had several shimmers of silver shine patterned through it) and the grayest, palest of faces. She was chillingly thin, so it made her white cheeks, nose and mouth protrude, unladylike, from the rest of her features. Looking up she cast her eyes over me; eyes of the deepest ebony and ones that searched forever into my soul. She scowled, looked back down at her smoky blaze, muttering furiously, and threw a small object that looked scarily similar to a baby’s shoe into it. The old woman herself wore no footwear and seemed not to care- not even notice- that she was almost burning her filthy feet.
By now, I decided, it was time to advance towards the lady in grey and ask her what she was doing in these woods.
I stepped further forward; the lady snarled at the fire and dark shadows flashed across my face, dancing into my imagination like imps or minions of Beelzebub.
“Who are you?”