When that black cat started hissing at us I knew it was true. She was in league with something otherworldly.
And then there were all those jars of who knows what that she must have used in her rituals.
And them books. A whole row of them. Full of evil scriptures no doubt.
I just couldn’t stop myself. There was a fire burning in the hearth, with nobody to tend it. What more proof do you need than that to tell you of the wickedness in that cottage?
I used pages from one of the books as a taper, lighting it from the fire and began to burn down the witch’s home. The bedding took easily and soon the flames were on the thatch of the roof and we stood back to watch the cottage burn.
