Thread: Witchcraft isn't Dead (RippledStatic x Sketchyequine)

People didn't believe in witches anymore. The legends were older than America itself but modern people ignored them much like how they ignored the existence of God and the Devil. However, such an ancient evil was not so easily eradicated. Witches had been working their magic for thousands of years, and they each lived for hundreds if they were any good at the arts. However, for the witches to live the blood of man and woman had to be spilled. The dark lord was not appeased easily, so, in order to maintain her long life, Abigail Good preyed on the hearts and souls of men and women alike in the state of Massachusetts. The women let a small chuckle slip between her ruby lips as she continued weaving leaves and vines into her pale tendrils. In the background she could hear the screams of the woman tied down spread eagle on a stone table amongst a gathering of trees. It was a dark night in the forest, but candles on all sides illuminated the sights. Both witch and victim were naked. Abigail herself was almost as pale of flesh as her silver hair. Her body almost illuminated in the firelight as she walked back to the bound woman with a blade in hand. A smile smile crossed her lips. Abigail had killed thousands of people. The woman no longer felt any remorse over the action. This will teach you to go home with any pretty thing willing to spread her thighs, my love. You really should be more careful. She cooed before leaning over the sobbing woman and pressing their lips together. Abigails kiss was soft and sweet, but the intent behind it was cruel. It was a shallow comfort that she gifted to the woman she had fucked and soon would kill. Her kiss, however, was tender and sweet like that of a lover. But as soon as she pulled her lips back, Abigail drove the knife home- burying it deep into the abdomen of the woman. The stranger let out a blood curdling screech of agony and terror in response to the life being ripped from her body as her blood began to spill. Abigail removed the knife and laid it on the stone as the woman made desperate pleas for her life to be spared. Abigail hushed the woman before dipping her fingers and long, stiletto manicure into the wound which she had just caused covering her fingertips in the familiar crimson. The witch began chanting in ancient latin as she used the blood to begin painting symbols over her naked body. Her thighs, stomach, breasts, and even tattooed arms were pleased with intricate designs all drawn with the life-giving substance. The woman just kept on bleeding and Miss Good just kept on painting and chanting. It was a vile ritual, but it was one that Abigail was quite familiar with. There was someone in the city who she wished to be rid of, and this sacrifice would ensure their untimely death. The chanting grew louder and louder until finally it ceased and everything went quiet and still for a moment before Abigail drove the knife into the throat of the woman to finish the kill. In a bar downtown a man who had crossed the witch dropped dead instantly. Abigail smiled and began weaving between the trees toward home as all the candles went dark. The light illumination made by the moon shone off of her breasts and supple hips. Her bare feet kissed the forest floor as she walked and the dead womans blood dripped from her fingertips as she walked. Abigail lived in a secluded home that appeared completely unsuited for housing such an immaculate creature as her, but that was the location she had called home for hundreds of years. While the building had changed after having to be rebuilt several times it still remained planted on the site where abigail had made her very first kill. A morbid place to call home, perhaps, but there was nothing about Abigail that wasnt morbid or cruel. After all she was a daughter and wife to Satan himself. Purring slightly under her breath Abigail recalled that fateful night when she truly gave herself over to the dark lord. She had fucked the man to gain his trust, like she did with almost all of her victims, hen she went about the long and arduous process of giving her soul away- beginning with chanting and singing and ending with the mans entrails spewed across the room. The happy memory caused the woman to let out a methodic laugh that echoed off the the tree bark all around her. Her feminine sweet voice was enticing to men and women alike. Anyone who heard or saw her was drawn in to their ultimate doom if Abigail chose to follow through. Countless times campers or hikers would show up at her door just because they had heard her singing or laughing- everything about her was a trap. align