The Witch-prolouge

Begining of a short story contest I entered

Prologue

 

     The city was a distant smudge of light against a dark landscape. Here, away from it all, crickets sang and the breeze rustled the tall grass.  Well, they would have, ordinarily, but it was raining. The crickets were silent and the grass too heavy with water to make a sound. Thomas waited patiently in his old truck with one knee propped against the steering wheel and his small yellow dog curled on the seat beside him. The highway stretched out to his right, to the city in one direction, and into the nothingness of the country in the other. To his left was the edge of a dense forest where poplars and a few scrubby pines competed for sunlight. The dog sat up suddenly, a whine somewhere deep in his throat.  Something moved in the corner of Thomas’ eye.  Someone stood at the edge of the woods, leaning against a tree.  Thomas peered through the blur the rain had created on the truck’s window. The figure stepped out of the woods, moving hurriedly towards Thomas’ truck.

      Thomas smiled, as the figure approached, Thomas could make out the outline of a young woman. That doesn’t make sense, Thomas thought. Why wouldn’t the Brixton send their strongest thug? That girl looked around 13! Oh well, the world will be mine in just a few hours anyway. “Where’s the disk?” Thomas asked, raising his gun, “Raise it slowly or I’ll shot!” The girl brought her hands up and Thomas said, “Now walk, slowly, over here.”

     When the girl was about 20 paces away she stopped, brought her hands up further into the air, and began chanting in what sounded like an ancient tongue, “Ana ana doris planna chiri folo tine krona.” 

      “Stop that,”  

      Still the girl continued, her voice getting higher and louder, “Yiol tere inso firwa hanba pono infor tere!”

     Thomas, becoming worried, shouted, “Stop! Or I’ll shoot! ” Still the chanting steadily came. At first it gave him homey, warm feeling but soon Tomas fell like he was on fire, inside and out. The heat was so intense he couldn’t even scream. The dog yelped and tried to hide under the seat. Thomas leveled his pistol and shot, the bullet flying straight towards the witches head. About two inches from her forehead the bullet crumpled.

     Thomas’ mouth fell agape and opened the truck’s door to run, but it was too late. His hands started to feel oddly cold and when he looked down he screamed.  His hands were rapidly turning into hooves and, after a couple of minutes of horrid pain; Thomas had turned completely into a deer. The dog looked confused, not knowing whether the deer was master or prey, a growl began rising in its throat.  

     As Thomas the deer turned to flee he saw the seemingly innocent child dissolve like mist.

Author's Note

please comment ways to improve. I do the best I can but I can't get better without critizim