The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart by Jesse Bullington Page A

pawed frantically around the shack until she found the small bucket. Dunking her face
     in the frigid water she gasped, taking her first breath since attacking the witch. She only brought herself to look at her
     felled nemesis by imagining the hag regaining her feet behind her. Snapping back to the fire, she took in what she had wrought.
    The crone’s blood coated the floor from one wall to the other, her head almost severed. Nicolette shook with such passion
     the knife slipped out of her fingers, and then the fire popped, causing her heart to freeze and her feet to hop, eyes shooting
     to the ceiling. The silence of the night settled on her, and for the first time she noticed no birds or insects disturbed
     the stillness in this part of the wood. She swallowed, tasting the bitter old witch in her mouth, and spit on her corpse.
    Her heart raced so quickly only her mind could outpace it. The crime that was no crime had spurred her thoughts into action,
     and she rushed to institute her plan. She held her breath and grabbed the witch by the ears, planting her foot on a gory shoulder
     and tugging. The head did not budge but an ear came partially free. She yelped, dropping the ear and covering her mouth in
     a belated effort to quiet herself.
    The roof shifted ominously, the girl leaping over the wide pool that shimmered black in the firelight. Snatching the rusty
     ax, she returned to the witch and, pretending the mess at her feet was an especially stubborn log, raised the ax overhead
     like a seasoned woodsman. The spattering on her legs bothered her far less than the creaking roof. Snatching the head, she
     tossed it into the fire, where it sizzled and hissed, the flames dying low.
    In the dimness she set down the ax and retrieved the knife, kneeling and frantically cutting the hag’s bloody clothes from
     her body. The witch stank, and her skin had patches of mold and what were surely extra nipples poking from oily creases of
     skin. She gagged but kept at it, piling the rags beside the sputtering fire.
    The husband must be pacing, dust swirling down heavily as she righted the chair before the fire, the decapitated corpse between
     her and the hearth. Inspired anew, she smeared the cooling blood over her arms and legs and face but could not bring herself
     to wipe it on her stomach or chest. Donning the filthy, odorous cloth, she forced herself over to the door and with gritted
     teeth slid the slat from its catch, letting it swing inward.
    Leaves swirled around the doorway and all was silent on the roof and in the wood. She backed away, and fighting a sudden dizziness,
     buried the knife in the crone and slumped down in the chair, the ax again in her sticky hands. Filling her chest with the
     chill wind blowing against her back, she screamed, but stopped short just as her voice reached its peak. Biting her lip, she
     waited one, two, three seconds before hoarsely trying to imitate the crone’s song. Doubt consumed her but she knew any hesitation
     would undo her careful ruse, so on she sang, strange syllables sticking in her craw.
    Then she heard the tick-ticking of an animal’s claws on the stone floor behind her. Rather than charging in and past her to
     descend upon the corpse as she had prayed, her unseen end slunk slowly toward the hearth. Nicolette sang louder, wishing she
     could pray to the Virgin instead. The beast sniffed the air, fetid breath stirring the rags on her shoulders. It let out a
     throaty growl, and it was fortunate she had no water left to expel, although her bottom twitched on the chair and her song
     cut off as she gasped.
    The thing rubbed itself against her side, and she realized the low growl was it purring like the cats her father would not
     let her keep but drowned in the pond to spite the Devil. She silently pleaded with her eyes to remain fixed on the fire but
     they gazed down at the brute as it moved to the corpse. It resembled a huge felid, larger than the hungry dogs turned loose