by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|Amanda Pike felt a compulsion to seize the remainder of the lost moment before all hell broke loose. She wasn’t just some floozy, now, was she? “Perhaps, just a touch of wort?”
The witch trainee hummed as she worked over her spell. It was the one that would make her name, bring her fame, glory and the lusciously wicked feeling of power her withered black heart craved. “Now an eye of frog, I think.”
Every trainee had to create a new spell unlike any other, before she passed the rigorous rights of passage to becoming crowned as a witch in the coven. Amanda Pike was so close she could smell success wafting up in the stink from the bubbly brew she stirred. “Simmer, baby. Do your magic.”
Most witch’s cauldrons soupy mixtures were comprised of strange and deadly noxious plants and animal parts. A sprinkle of secrets blended with a sparkle of useless distractions, to put off pretenders using the mix, finished the extract to each spell inducing tincture. “Finished.”
A bubble rose in the air, round, rainbow surface spinning. Amanda Pike closed her eyes, mumbling her chant to give herself courage. “Now or never.”
The sound of the bubble popping made her gasp. Had she failed? The threat of expulsion from the coven meant being turned into a toothless old hag often burned at the stake, a ploy to satisfy the demands of the populace real witches preyed upon.
“All right. You summoned me. Hurry up and make your demand. What do you want?”
Amanda Pike blinked. There, before her very eyes was the crowned ruler of Hell. Not one of his misshapen minions. It was the very one.
“Caught you, didn’t I?” She giggled nervously, almost like a schoolgirl standing, the first time, before her class.
The bubble had collapsed it’s greasy force shield around Satan, binding him to Amanda’s will. She reached out and poked the imp of all imps, bringing a startled hissed curse in return. “None of that. You are mine, as is anything within your power.”
“Get on with it, then. Time’s a wastin'. Without me, Hell won’t know what to do with itself.” The demon’s eyes burned a fiery red.
Amanda Pike quickly dipped her ladle into her cauldron. One splash later and another bubble caressed the Antichrist, coating his flesh, holding him captive still. Amanda shouted in triumph,“I can call and keep you whenever I want, do you understand me? None of your curses can set you free or seek revenge.”
“It is not me you should be worried about,” Lucifer growled. He stared uneasily past Amanda Pike’s left ear. “Where do you think I get my power, sweetie? It must be fed. Why do you think Hell exists?”
Behind her, Amanda Pike heard the sound of an unlocking gate and smacking lips. The Soul Eater opened its blackness, a dark hole sucking the would be Witch into its maw.
The sound of an unholy belch burped a fiery breath over Satan, burning him free of his coating. “You’re welcome,” grinned Satan, dusting the flakes of bubble off his long pointed tail. “What I do, to keep you happy.”
A wink, a nod and the Angel of the Bottomless Pit dove straight back into the fiery fingers of Hell’s renewed flaming brightness to thundering applause. “Witch supplicant’s don’t know what the hell they are dealing with.”
A second burp out of nowhere vomited Amanda Pike spinning and shrieking into being. Some things, even the Soul Eater could not stomach.
Which is how real Hell came into being for the ruler of that realm. The raking sound of Amanda Pike's whiny voice screeched pure horror. “You should be thankful I made a compact with the Eater of Souls to leave it alone as long as you do my bidding. Now listen up. I’ve got quite the to-do list.”
“You witch.” Satan whined, holding his bat shaped ears.
And so, Amanda Pike was.