The chronicles of the witch named Misiribella.

The chronicles of the witch named Misiribella.

Status: Finished

Genre: Horror

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Horror

Summary

wicked short stories of witches and of one named Misiribella.

Summary

wicked short stories of witches and of one named Misiribella.

Chapter1 (v.1) - The chronicles of the witch named Misribella.

Author Chapter Note

wicked short stories of witches and of one named Misribella.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 29, 2012

Reads: 406

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 29, 2012

A A A

A A A

 

The chronicles of the witch named Misribella.

 

The day was unlike another for Misribella. She could sense something other than the envy that the other woman had placed upon her from in under that rising sun lifting its heat up above that grim groomed cafe. She gave it another thought, thought it could have been that rising sun that had swept her up in to its shine, and up out of that means for awareness she had been wondering in. No, she thought, had answered that one quest she had sat, stirred in. “Well” she said aloud bringing that coffee cup up to her lip knowing that the others had been watching her every move from in under that shown shining sun. How long can this go on, she questioned. How long it will last, she thought to her self before looking the other ladies over and setting them from in that spell she had been brewing from in that those thoughts of long levity that have now left all those wondering eyes that had fell upon her from in that rising sun to their own grip for a satisfaction as they feel that touch of going old, the aged wrinkles from off one others face, the bright streaks of grey that had stroke in to their hair and the hunch they are left with as those old gruelling eyes set upon  Misribella for one last yet quick stare. Is it me, she questioned her self standing up out of her chair.

“No,” answered the waitress from in behind the cafes counter.

“I know,” Misiribella agreed stepping out in to the isle. She looks back over her shoulder, on to the other women, the old dead face’s held up on those hunched over tiring corpse. She continues on making way for the cafes exit doors, looks back on to the waitress standing her ground in behind the counter, “and I do it every time,” She said winking a wink before shining that bright smile of hers on out the cafe for a fresh breath of that mornings sun filled air.

“Fresh coffee,” Cheered the waitress after seeing the women from in her cafe being set in to the shine of the mornings sun, and out from in Misiribella’s shade.

 

 


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