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She sat down heavily on
the velvet stool at her dresser. Twisting her fingers behind her head, she
released her hair from the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Picking up a
shiny brush made from blackwood, she began dragging the bristles through the
gray strands of her straw-like hair, a stark contrast to her once beautiful long,
black satiny curls. Clamenza, disgusted by the image staring back at her, pushed
herself off the stool.
Striding across the room, she pulled opened the double
doors of a timber wardrobe and ran her hand across an array of beautiful
flowing gowns designed in satins, silks, sequins and velvets. A few were over a
hundred years old, from an era long gone, an era she preferred, and some others
new from more recent shopping trips. All were beautiful gowns designed for a
woman much younger than the old woman whose fingers lingered, caressing the
lavish fabrics with tenderness. She closed the doors, sighing. “Not long now,”
she croaked to herself, “and I will be as beautiful as ever.”
A large flying cockroach
landed on her hand and scurried up her arm. It perched on her shoulder, its
antenna transmitting a high-pitched sound only the witch could hear.
“Good morning, my
little friend. Are you ready for sleep, too?” she purred, her finger stoking
the cockroach on its shiny black wings. The cockroach ruffled its wings in
response.
Clamenza climbed into
her bed, the cockroach scrambling beneath a black satin pillow. She rested her
head on another, covering herself in a thick black and gray fur from a wolf
slain over ten years ago. Outside, rain began to fall just as it did every
night when Clamenza slept in her little cave.
The earth around the cave turned into
bubbling pools of brown, blobby mud. Fat, slimy grubs slithered through muddy
gouges in the soil congested with twisted tree roots. Black insects climbed out
from beds of sodden leaves and scrambled up tree trunks to higher ground. A
brown snake, as thick as a wrestlers arm, coiled silently around moss-covered
branches, its fork tongue flicking in and out. With one lightning-quick
movement, its mouth sprang open wide, swallowing a dozing possum whole. Not far
away, a white owl hooted, sweeping down from a high branch to snatch up a fat,
juicy rat gnawing on the rotting remains of a feral cat.
A while later, the sun
peeked through the dense tree line, shrouding the rest of the forest in a warm,
golden, glow. Butterflies as large as saucers with incandescent wings danced
through golden rays. Elk and deer frolicked in the lush green clearings and
drank from bubbling streams teaming with fish and ducks of every kind. A fox
cub chased his brother, snapping playfully at his tail. A flock of noisy rainbow
parrots, with bright green and yellow tail feathers a meter long, took flight to
celebrate the start of a new day.
Darkness, however,
loomed forever heavy over the witch’s cave as she slept the day away. At
twilight she would rise, preferring to hunt in the darkest hours.
Clamenza fell asleep
almost immediately, dreaming about the day she would walk the earth as the
beauty she had once been. She longed for the days when she had turned the heads
of every man as she sauntered by, her long black hair tumbling to her slender
waist. Ruby-red lips, as tempting as a succulent ripe plum, made even the most devoted
husband weak at the knees. All she needed was the souls of six young witches,
Carmen’s fee for restoring Clamenza to her former beauty. Only two more girls
were required to complete the wicked transaction.
The cockroach poked its
head out from beneath the pillow and peered at the sleeping witch. Satisfied,
the stealthy insect slid under the heavy furs, along the knotty blue veins on Clamenza’s
leg, then nibbled contently on the dry, flaking skin on Clamenza’s foot. The
bug scraped its hairy back legs together, sending a silent message as it
nibbled. Within moments, others of its kind scrambled up the legs onto the bed
and slid under the covers where they, too, feasted uninterrupted on Clamenza’s
flaking skin until nightfall when the witch would wake, shaking them off
unperturbed. “Feast as much as you like on this old body,” she’d say,
stretching her arms above her head, “because you won’t be allowed to feast on
the new one, my little darlings. Go on, off with you now,” she’d say, shooing
them gently away with her hand. “But don’t worry; I won’t let you go hungry.”
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