TITLE: THE DEVIL’s TATTOO
I’m straining to see, from afar all I can hear is a tap…tap…tap, regular, stubborn, inviting.
A faint yellowing shimmer draws me deeper until I the other hurriers, trappers, Walt, Mary, Joe standing in a circle transfixed.
The shimmering becomes beautiful, monstrous. Waxing and waning, twisting and turning, graceful, venomous. Then a body, face, eyes full of malice, looking at each of us. I try to screw my eyes shut.
Recognition hits me as she hisses ‘Mary’.
We still work the mine.
The witch never came back.
But once in a while you ignore the dread tap…tap…tap…