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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2176999
Magic isn't always harmless... (SCREAMS contest submission, use selected words in prompt)
Never marry a witch.

Best case scenario you accidently eat something in the fridge, turning you into a salamander.

Worst case scenario? Let’s just say divorce makes being a newt preferable.

She gave me no choice. I couldn’t live with a woman who used magic as the answer to every problem. At first, it was charming.

The realtor, who sold us the house, neglected to mention leaky pipes and cramped closet space on the last visit. This was nothing to my witchy wife, conjuring a roomier home with added amenities.

We celebrated in naked bacchanalia, drunken revelries lasting all night.

But with the pounding hangover, a different headache appeared at our door.

The homeowner association would not stop pestering us, saying that we had made unauthorized changes to our property.

“I’ll just turn them into a toad.” My wife said with a grin.

“Darling, that would just cause more problems for us.” I sighed and shook my head.

She gave this some thought. “What exactly did they need?”

A pencil pusher by trade, I knew which forms and permits were required for building additions onto an existing property.

Once I described them, she performed a ritual, summoning documents signed in triplicate. “You are simply amazing.” I gaped, awestruck as she bypassed bureaucracy with a hand wave and some candles. Giggling, she turned to me. “Only because I have you, honey buns.”

“Excuse me,” The divorce lawyer interrupted my tale. Hands clasped, he sat behind a lacquered mahogany desk. “I don’t need the… affectionate details. Please tell me when things started to sour with you and Sabrina.”

Rubbing my neck, I thought back to the first time.

A new neighbor moved in a few years after we settled into our cozy little mansion. Dark hair, blue eyes and dangerous curves made a recipe for disaster. Michelle was just an editor for the local newspaper, but you’d have thought she was a model the way she carried herself. Things were quiet until she came by, asking if I knew how to fix a gutter.

The outfit she was wearing was… not fit for housework. It seemed that she had taken a shine to me. If I was anyone else I would have gladly screwed her instead of the gutter, but I was happy and content. Until Sabrina came home, that is.

Women’s intuition, maybe even a spell, but somehow she knew Michelle had me in her horny sights. “That skank!” She hissed and stormed into the bedroom. I followed with trepidation. “Look Sabrina, nothing happened! Let’s just-“
She whirled, a tornado of womanly fury. “NOTHING?” Eyes flashed with lightning as storm clouds rolled in overhead. “She DARED to take what is rightfully MINE.”

I stepped back, fear creeping in. This was a side of Sabrina I had never seen, a darkness drowning out the sweetness I’d remembered.

A day later, I read a headline: TANNING BED TRAGEDY. It seems Michelle had gotten locked in one, frying her flawless skin while she screamed in agony. When they managed to open the device, it was too late. Michelle was unrecognizable, a crispy husk with perfect teeth.

Sabrina denied any involvement, but as she turned away I glimpsed a smile of satisfaction.

The lawyer interjected once again. “That was the moment she started to practice black magic?” I nodded. “That was when I began to suspect, yes.”

Things began to follow a pattern, after that. Someone would do something to me or Sabrina which she could not forgive. Then bodies started piling up. Each of the victims died in a freak accident, an unforeseen event which nobody saw as murder.

Except for me.

But I was too scared to leave, for fear of what she might do.

The final straw came when my mother stopped by. She was a queen in the art of condescension, turning any compliment into a back handed insult.

“I love your decorations,” My mother began, shaking water off her umbrella. “Tacky is the new trend now.”
I saw the warning signs as Sabrina stiffened. Her smile became fixed as she nodded graciously. “Thank you, we do try to keep up with things…” I stepped in, offering to show my mother the rest of the house.

“Not a bad place, considering the area.” She sniffed, after the tour was complete. I was struggling to keep my witchy wife from placing a curse, holding her hand tightly. “Thanks, mama.” I beamed with false sincerity.

“Well, I must be off. That’s enough charity for one day.” She opened the door and stepped out into the rain. Sabrina muttered something under her breath before I could stop her.

A shrill cry wailed outside.

The umbrella was filled with hairy spiders, crawling all over my panicking mother in the pouring rain. “What?” Sabrina grinned at me. “It could have been a curse but I behaved.” Nasty as mama may have been, I drew the line at casting magic on family members.

“I assume that was when you left?” He asked me, dusting off his pin-striped suit. “Barely getting out with my skin intact.” I muttered. The lawyer cocked an eyebrow. “Interesting. Tell me about the fallout.”

Sabrina… didn’t take separation well.

Packages started to arrive, mystery boxes I refused to open. There could have been anything in there, venomous snakes, shrunken heads or a magical bomb.

When I walked by a reflective surface she would appear in it, teary-eyed and remorseful. “Please Harvey,” Sabrina would plead from the bathroom, hallway and even my car’s rear view mirror. “I’m sorry I hexed your mom and tried to remove your memories.”

I wasn’t safe in my dreams, either. She would appear, an astral projection hounding my steps as I ran on endless staircases. “Harvey, I love you!” Sabrina would cry in a last ditch attempt.

But I was terrified.

I didn’t want anyone else to die, just by talking to me or being in my vicinity. She has a jealous streak and a flare of wickedness. You can tell, can’t you?

I knew Sabrina’s loving nature would lose out eventually. She must have found a hair of mine, because I certainly didn’t look this way when I went to bed last night.

The lawyer examined me with curiosity. “Are those boils? Did she send a pox your way?” I shook my head and coughed.

It was more of a croak, really.

(WORD COUNT: 1,062)
© Copyright 2018 Ray Scrivener (rig0rm0rtis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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