By R.F. Marazas
He called her a witch, packed his bags, left.
Gust of wind, leaf slapping his face. He crushed the leaf, flung it to the floor.
Calliope, embittered. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He laughed, strode to his car. She raised her arms, conducting an orchestra.
Wind rose, leaves swelled in monstrous waves, crashed down. He dropped his bags, gaped at the pockmarked car, windows shattered, tires slashed.
He ran. Wind, leaves, slashing, cutting, blinding him. He plunged into the ditch. Leaves poured. Biting, crunching sounds muffled his terrified screams.
Calliope lowered her arms. Wind died. “Shouldn’t have done it.” Door slammed.
Guess the guy was right; she WAS a witch. Liked this one a lot.
Thanks for your kind comments. Calliope is a good witch, except when provoked.
This was a very fine story. One quibble–didn’t need the “terrified.” In a strange way, saying that out loud diluted the powerful atmospherics you so effectively created.
Thank you. Thinking about that quibble.