Fire burn, and cauldron bubble

Everything was the same and different. The winter trees stood naked as they had before, but their twigs curled in a distorted way, as if the tree itself screamed in pain. The sky was a mass of grey cloud, again so ordinary for Winter, but instead of letting small shafts of light through they emitted an ethereal glow. The wind was just as bitter as the day before, coming straight from the north, but the scent was something else, metallic almost, with a tinge of acrid burning.

Boring. Boring. Borring.

Before the spider-witch there some oddly shaped figures. The smell of decay hit her like a thunder and the cheshire smile, ear to ear, returned. Full, ebon lips peeled back to leave place for incisors and fangs to gleam into the moonlight. It was the only time that she was able to see after all. How could a place be so full and empty at the same time?

Maybe it iss not boring after all.

The witch came to a halt before the structure, it was cracked and ripped and crumbling apart. It was clear that they had survived the strong hand of Father Time. The gravestone was so weathered by the freeze-thaw of centuries that the engraving was to faint to be read.


What is this?

I do not know.

You are not being ussseful.

She spread her hind limbs only to rose on them, placing both of her massive pads on the structure. Upon contact, the gravestone collapsed with the weight and forced the harlot back on all fours.


Devil structure.

The woman vocals were rafined, cold and  melodious however they had something under it, under her tongue, her devil tongue; something dark and


Evil.

As she was forced back down all fours, the slime gravestone crumbled into pieces, breaking the earth crust only to reveal something unusual, something fun


Bonesss, boness, sack of thorns.

Wolf bones


Yess

All around are the tombstones with their faded etching, a roll-call for the people who cannot answer. For when their bodies became still and cold they became a cadaver, not a person.

Speech