Stacie’s wrists burned from the ropes.
“Are you going to poison me?”
“Poison? Oh Stacie, poison is such a nasty word. Let’s call it a potion instead, hmm?”
“I heard you were a witch.”
“And I heard you were fondling my husband.”
Stacie let out a whimper.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Kill you? Oh no, no, nothing like that dear. I'm just going to, shall we say, enhance your appearance a tad. Now, how does a cute little six inch hook nose and a few dozen genital warts sound to you, hmm?
"Oh, stop your squirming, and drink.”
Author bio: I am currently a writer and Psychiatric RN in New Hampshire and have had a story published in Writers Haven.
