MicroHorror

Megan had bathed both the twins, fed them and laid them down. They were actually sleeping, and Megan, exhausted, was slumped in her favorite chair, bare feet up on the coffee table, letting her body relax and stretch out.

There was a sharp rapping on the front door. Megan ignored it, moving being the very last thing she wanted to do, but when the knocking sounded a second time she jumped up angrily, worried it would wake her babies.

She jerked the front door open with a scowl on her face ready to scold whoever had disturbed her, but the figure on the front porch startled her and no words came out.

“Buy some seeds, dear?” said the tiny old woman who stood before Megan. She wore what amounted to rags, her hands filthy with black nails and soiled skin, her face blotched and speckled with the signs of old age and disease. She was holding a wicker basket in her bony hands, and in it was a pile of little rolled-up paper packets, twisted at the top.

“No thanks,” said Megan, trying not to look into the old woman’s face, “I don’t garden.”

“Only a quarter a packet, dear.” The old woman pulled a paper roll from her basket and shook it towards Megan’s face. “Just a quarter, for all this beautiful life!” She shook the packet again.

“Really, no thank you, I have no need of seeds.” Megan took a step back, smiled coldly and closed the door a couple of inches. “I have to go back inside, I’m quite busy at the moment, you have a good evening.”

The old woman’s face clouded over in an instant, she turned her head and spat on the wooden deck.

“Just a little kindness dear,” she growled, her tone hostile now, “just a handful of change, a little jingle for my pocket, that’s all I ask. This is a lovely home you have here, very lovely.” The old woman looked around her, taking in Megan’s house.

Megan was shocked that this old crone had spat on her porch, and the last words she had spoken had sounded to Megan like a threat. She was angry now and just wanted to get back inside and relax.

“Listen, you old hag, how dare you spit on my property? I’m giving you nothing, get out of here right now and take your crap with you, if I see you hanging around here again I’ll call the police, you hear ? I don’t want you anywhere near my home.”

The old lady looked Megan right in the eyes and slowly, ever so slowly, let a big gob of spit fall from her cracked, grey lips and fall slowly to the deck, finally hitting the wood with a slight ‘glop.’

Megan was furious and shouted now.

“Get out of here, you nasty witch, get the hell out of here right now!”

In the background Megan heard one of the twins crying. She stamped her foot in anguish, her entire body groaning at the lost chance of relaxation, and made a shooing motion at the old lady. The old lady stepped back, then pointed at Megan’s face.

“I curse you, dear; I curse you with one word.”

Megan scowled. The crying baby had become two crying babies and she shook her head at how quickly peace had turned to disturbance.

“Go ahead, curse me, say what you want, but then please, JUST LEAVE!”

Megan slammed the door shut, rested her forehead against it and sighed. The crying was louder now; the twins had obviously heard the disturbance the wrinkly old bitch had caused. She listened for the old lady leaving, walking down the steps of the porch, but there was nothing. Megan knelt down and carefully pushed open her letterbox to look outside.

The old lady was staring right back at her.

“Childless!” she hissed, and Megan let the letterbox snap closed and fell back in shock.

The crying had stopped.