Hag
I stood in the strange shack looking at the chaos of objects strewn about a large wooden table. I was nervous and trying to be respectful without seeming arrogant or aloof. The old witch called me over and grabbed my arm in a vise grip. As the hag tried to gnaw on my finger, she asked me to finish it. She must have lost her fangs. I tried to use a needle but to no effect; the skin just wouldn’t break. I turned and a young girl sitting over a bowl grabbed my hand and before I realized what was happening she took a large kitchen knife and pulled it effortlessly across my finger. She began milking my finger, not of blood but of a colorless, cloudy droplet from the tip. This was followed by blood which dripped into the bowl onto a mass like thick syrup. She smiled and turned away, taking the bowl with her. Then the hag told me my pact was sealed and I may go. As I left, I found that I could now fly by the wind, I could crawl like a spider, and I was very strong. I was amazed at my abilities and imagined doing great things, but at what cost?
What had I sacrificed for these traits which men only dream of?
I’m beginning to feel less of myself.