Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery

You are not made out of needs, you are made out of your dreams and desires.

A hard grimace set on Abitha's face. "If it is a witch they want," she hissed, "then a witch they shall have.

As at least cruelty was a thing that could be pointed out, confronted. But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?

Life is nothing but riddles … we spend our whole lives puzzling them out. Sadly, as soon as we find the answer, the riddle changes. Does it not?

I am not Abitha. Abitha was murdered. I am the witch, and the witch cares not for your tears.

That is not what you want, that is what you need. You are not made out of needs, you are made out of your dreams and desires.

Abitha could see that these people believed, truly believed, that they were doing God’s work here this day. And there was something about these people that horrified Abitha even worse than those whose faces were lined with cruelty. As at least cruelty was a thing that could be pointed out, confronted. But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?

And what if it is not that simple?” Samson asked. “Can a god be both slayer and shepherd? Reward and vex? Does your god only do good?

If it is a witch they want,” she hissed, “then a witch they shall have.

You will think me foolish. But I wanted to be a fairy queen, to run barefoot through the woods, to sing like a bird and fly through the trees." She smiled. "To be able to talk to the animals.

All the eyes, all the gods, they are all part of the same. Mother Earth, Christ, all the religious sects across the globe, the sun, the earth, the moon, the planets, the stars, man and beast, gods and devils, all of existence. All of it, one thing!

Mind your own houses!” Abitha cried. “You are all naught but a gaggle of clucking cunts!

It is time to be magnificent.

Abitha laughed. “You think me worried about my soul?” She laughed again, loud and fierce, locking blazing eyes on Samson. “I’ve no soul left,” she growled. “They’ve crucified my fucking soul!” Her voice cracked and hot angry tears began to flow.

I am the shepherd and I am the slayer. I am life and I am death.

Angels must often do dark deeds in the name of the Lord.

Lord, I am doing the best that I can. If this is all but some trial, some great test of my faith, then shame on you for tormenting me so.

The serpent closed in, closer and closer, its lethal promise igniting something deep within Abitha’s breast: the primordial need of every creature that has ever been hurt by another—the need to bite back.

I have no choice,” she whispered, almost pleading. “You understand? My soul will never be at peace, not so long as such evil as these men walk the earth.

She called to them: the cicadas , the moths, the beetles, and fireflies, the little gnats and mosquitos, the thousands and thousands of little mosquitos. And they responded, their tiny voices swelling, coming together like a song, filling the woods with their melody as they flew to her, swarming and swirling together like a growing storm cloud.

I am blind, walking a path I cannot see. But walk it I must.

Abitha managed to be astounded by the impossible: a Puritan minister and the Devil praying together, praying to Jesus and Mother Earth and who knew what else, all in an effort to save her.

The towering trees grew ever denser as she went, leaning in on her from either side, blocking out the sun—a twisted tunnel of branches and leaves and gnarled roots that felt ready to swallow her at any moment.

I want to do what is right, but sometimes it is hard to know what is right.

Two eyes for an eye. If I can kill him twice, three times, four times, I’ll do it, and each time I will dance a jig of joy upon his bloody corpse.

There were a Scotsman named McFee Who got stung on his nuggets by a bee He made tons of money By producing lots of honey Every time he went for a pee.

What does your god say?” “He says many good things. But it can all become a bit confusing. Such as how is it that God allows the Devil to harry people so.” “You speak often of gods and devils. What is the difference?” “That’s easy,” Abitha said. “Gods are benevolent, looking over their flock in return for their devotion. Devils vex and torment.” “And what if it is not that simple?” Samson asked. “Can a god be both slayer and shepherd? Reward and vex? Does your god only do good?

God, please forgive me,” he whispered, but he knew God wouldn’t, that God had forsaken him.

Few have ever borne so much suffering as did she. It was only for her daughter that she gave in. It was love, not pain, that broke her.