(400 words)
Aspects of the cottage were unusual, to say the least. A large white, winged-devil gargoyle hung to the left of a handwritten sign – Haunted Cottage. Julie and I exchanged glances.
“Welcome, you found the place then!” A short woman in her sixties with a mop of long, incongruously-black hair answered the door. “I’m Mary. Come in.”
Julie and I had answered an advertisement for a saddle, for my stepdaughter’s first horse. We passed through a tack room into a large conservatory.
“Please sit. I’ll make some tea.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine, we can’t stay long.” Julie smiled and toyed with her blonde hair.
“Oh, I insist,” replied Mary. Before we could say anything she’d disappeared.
Julie and I looked around. A large ‘Green Man’ planter hung high on the one solid wall and peach-coloured cushions graced cane furniture.
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–
Soon Mary was back. “The tea won’t be long. Now I must tell you, I have two witches.”
“Sorry?”
“Two witches, in spirit. They live here. They get up to all kinds of tricks!”
“Oh.” Julie tried to keep a straight face.
I was far less sceptical. “Like what?”
“Oh, they stole my slippers and put them in an old coat. Come, I’ll show you!”
She led us into the cottage, a network of small immaculate rooms, full of antique furniture and effects. Stuffed foxes glowered from glass cages, and witches, from small dolls to waist-high figures, were everywhere.
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Back in the conservatory, having seen the coat and slippers, and having succeeded in getting Mary’s mind back on the purpose of our visit long enough to purchase the saddle, I finished my tea. “Well, thanks Mary, it sounds like it’s never a dull moment around here!”
She sat up suddenly. “Did you hear that? Thunder. There’s going to be a storm.”
“Oh well, we’d best be going.” I felt in my pocket for the car key but it was empty. “Hang on, where’s my car key?”
There was a flash of lightning and rain rattled on the windows. I ran to the car with my jacket over my head. “It’s OK, I left it in the ignition!” I shouted.
That lady was crazy,” said Julie, snuggling up to me in bed that night. Her skin was warm and comforting.
“Yeah, maybe, but when we were first sitting down I seem to remember the car key was pressing against my leg.”
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Featured in the book, To Cut a Short Story Short: 111 Little Stories
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