The room is hazy, the shadowy corners of are barely lit by the flickers of candlelight. It smells… old. Old and magical. There she is, sitting on a creaky old rocking chair in the corner, half-masked by darkness. Just the sight of this old woman makes my skin tingle and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Her face is angular and weathered, her gray hair hanging in straw-like strands over her slumped shoulders. I shouldn’t be afraid of her, but something about this old woman makes me sick to my stomach.
As always, she smiles at me, revealing a mouth full of half-decayed teeth. “Hello again, Mariel,” she says in a crow-like voice.
As usual, I don’t answer, paralyzed by her ominous aura.
“Have a seat, child,” she says as she gestures to a worn green armchair across the room. I o
