The witch was a clothes horse. 🙂
This is a sequel to Flash Fiction: Broken Fence.
To enjoy this story even more, do read that one before this. 🙂
The old witch kept aside her pen and black book. She got up from her rocking chair and stepped into her backyard.
Her backyard led into the forest that neighbored the town. No one ever set foot inside the forest other than her. It was her forest. She had grown up in this forest, in a time when it was yet flush with animals. She walked barefoot, her ashen white feet stepping on the green grass. The foolish townsfolk had driven away the animals from their home. In retaliation, she made sure that any person who entered the forest, never left. Over the many years, the humans learnt to stay away from the forest. Most of them learnt it the hard way, serving examples for their descendants.
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