's 2019 Horror Write-off:

A Spell of Great Revenge

Submitted by Centipedal

That bastard has hurt me for the last time. They have taken everything from me. Every time I look at them I cringe in anger and pain. Like a thousand needles were stabbing into my body. And also the needles are filled with angry juice. Fortunately, I knew what to do. Their evil was going to end once and for all. 

I’m what you might call a gangster. A mobster. A mafioso. Point is, I’m an all-around asshole who likes to hurt people. I’m not a good gal. But what they did to me is so, so much worse. 

One of the good things about my profession is that I get to know people, ya dig? All kinds of people. From heirs to million-dollar fortunes to witches who live in the sewers and make fireworks for a living. It was one of the latter that I went to.

I knocked on the door, a solid three raps. She opened it. Her body was covered in a nasty mixture of goo, mud, and dust, and her eyes were wild. Her hair was patchy and long, hanging around her neck. I could smell her last hundred meals on her breath. 

“Hey Susanna. Remember what I did to those fishermen? Yeah. I’m cashing in my favor. Listen. I need a very specific kind of spell. One that lets me hurt things. Badly.”

“Oh, my child. I already know. Please, please, come in.”

We talked long into the night- first about the workings of magic and how I was going to make them pay, and then about our lives. Our struggles, our victories. Everything. It’s nice to connect with people every once in awhile, y’know?

But I left in the morning, and made my way back to my place. I needed to prepare everything before midnight. 

At eleven, I laid my items down on the table. A mirror stained by the blood of a month-old stoat. A single pin fashioned from a hanged man’s neck. My toenails, wrenched off my feet. And the written words that would let me hurt them.

I began, mumbling at first. “Four score and seven years ago. A bouncy house of children. Pins in balloons.” Louder. “Four score and seven years ago. A bouncy house of children. Pins in balloons.” I was yelling now. “Four score and seven years ago! A bouncy house of children! Pins in balloons!”

And then, just as the clock struck midnight, I felt it. The world had changed, irrevocably. I had done something, and it would never, ever be fixed. The lights felt a little darker, the shadows a little fuller. I had made things worse, I knew. But it was well worth it for my revenge.

Beneath me, the table began to twitch. Each of its four legs had grown long, hairy feet. A pair of massive, wet, lidless eyes stared from the top of it. Stiff black hairs poked up intermittently from its surface. There was a mouth on the other side, and it screamed with the pain of being born. 

It began to scamper around the room, frantically bumping into things. I laughed, a mad chuckle that would surely wake the neighbors. It had worked. Yes, finally. I was going to get my revenge. 

Let’s see how that little shit likes stubbing its toes.