Men and Monsters

  “I do not know about this one, Al,” I said. “He does not look like an easy break”

  “Nonsense Miss Brewer, nonsense. That there pony is as good a horse as any, barring a few mishappenings.”

  “Mishappenings?” I asked.

  “Well sure,” the portly man said, twirling his curly mustache. “Any young pony’s got a mean streak. This one’s nippy, but if you’d reach in that bag…?” He pointed at a burlap sack pinned to the post near the pony’s stall. I put my hand inside. “Yes, that one. Give ‘em one of those and he ought to be sweeter to you.”

  I pulled a round warped carrot out of the bag and held it up to the pony’s nose, coaxing its

  head over the stall door. He ceased his restless swaying and huffing and cocked his head at the orange prize, then ever so gingerly plucked it from my hand. This was a strange and sudden shift in attitude from the little horse that wouldn’t even get close to me just minutes ago.

  “I suppose as long as I have a couple of these on my person, he ought to behave.” I said to Mr. Chambers. I giggled when the pony probed my hands with his lips, looking for crumbs.

  “Good, he’s eighty dollars, plus another thirty for the saddle, twenty for the stabling fee–”

  “I don’t plan to stable him, Mr. Chambers. I needed a steed because I’m leaving.”

  “Tonight? Now?” he asked.

  “Yes”

  “You ought to stay a night, you could stay in the office over yonder if you’d prefer.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “But Ms. Brewer–”

  “It is simply Clara, I told you that. Now, I have the money, take it so that I may get on.”

  Mr. Chambers threw a glance at Jacob, the stable boy, who shrugged. Was it so hard to conduct business in other towns, or was it just in Defton? Way out in the middle of nowhere on these plains, I would have thought Mr. Chambers here might like some quick business. I should have known that would be too much to ask.

  “Come with me Ms. Clara.” he said a bit defeatedly. I walked with him to the office he mentioned. It took several minutes to complete the redundant paperwork. I was nearing tedium when Jacob stuck his head in the jarred door to let me know the pony was ready for me.

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  “Thank you, sir” I said to him before finishing off the final bits and shaking Mr. Chamber’s hand.

  “Where do you plan on going at this hour? I couldn’t let you go not knowing when you might next expect some hospitality.”

  “You need not worry about me sir, I have folks to the south whom I plan to visit.” I lied. I didn’t have any family for a thousand miles. I did however need to quickly get to the camp that was waiting for me, and this polite fool was slowing me down.

  “Alrighty ma’am, I suppose I could with a clean conscience let you go. You take care now, and go with God.”

  “Thank you Mr. Chambers, but if I make it to where I need to get, God will not have anything to do with it,” I said with finality. No, God would have nothing to do with a witch reuniting with her coven, but this pony certainly would.

  I mounted the pony, readjusting my breeches. They were incredibly loose, the result of the general store not carrying pants that would fit only a small man. I would make adjustments when I rejoined my sisters. The pony was affectionately named ‘Tart’. This, of course, was a sarcastically sweet reference to his feisty nature. I gave him a kick on his haunches, and he took off, hauling me southward.

  ***

  I led Tart through the brush, which scratched at my cheeks and tugged at my clothes. Had I worn my usual lace-laden dresses, I would have been hooked like a fish by these trees.

  “Esme? Esmerelda? Are you there?” I hollered.

  “Here!” she said from deep in the brush. I glimpsed the spark of a fire and made my way towards it. I pushed through the brush into the clearing, Tart just behind me. The girls greeted me as I hitched the pony to a nearby tree.

  Esme and Veronica had made a stew, and nursed it over a fire.

  “Any good?” I asked.

  Veronica responded, “Of course, don’t you see I made it?”

  Hmph. As if that were any consolation. I ate heartily, then prepared to sleep. The work would begin tomorrow. The men of Red Creek, Arkansas would learn to fear our power. For what they did to poor Penelope, they would pay.

  ***

  The next morning, I woke early. The morning mist still clung to the ground. We broke camp in silence, then rode northward to a small overlook. From there, we could see the entirety of the town, including the thin river that cut through it, giving the town its name. This was where we would conduct our ritual.

  The girls constructed the signs and symbols upon the ground with charcoal from the banked fire. As they did, I recited the incantations, calling on the old gods to borrow their power.

  “Moreth to rey ignath erus te quali nemu Gorath!”

  I repeated the phrase over and over, pulling the power from the heavens. The clouds above the town opened, green light pouring out. It was working. The light splashed the landscape. Screams came from the town as we finished our deed.

  “Meru to anuth terro vas!”

  As I finished, the clouds opened further, and a green smoke cascaded from between their round folds. It poured down into the town, washing it in green mist. The screams of men split the air as my sisters and I began to laugh. I finished by clapping my hands together once, closing the clouds. The girls followed me back to the horses. We were off to collect our prizes: the transformed figures of men turned into monsters, soldiers to our cause.