Drown the Witch (Flash Fiction)

Bob and Brian crept up slowly through the bushes. Brian called out as a thorn found his soft back and cut into his flesh, and Bob immediately clasped a hand over his mouth. Bob’s eyes were full of rage as he slowly turned back and peered through the bushes to see if the light scream had given them away. They were paused for several moments, Brian waiting for the pain to be relieved and Bob spying, before they continued on their perilous journey. The movement through the thick garden was difficult as they were burdened with the weapons of judgement.

When they finally stopped, Bob lifted some branches to reveal a girl laying beside a pool. She had bright pink headphones on and she was casually flipping through an issue of Teen Magazine.

Bob shook his head and glared. “There she is,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Brian. As always, the sight of her stirred something deep within his young body. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was just beginning to find the slender curves of her womanhood. Her dark brown hair was held up in a loose bun, showing the milky skin of her slender neck. She bobbed her head to music only she could hear.

Bob slapped Brian on the shoulder. “Pull yourself together!” he hissed. “We’ve got to break this spell once and for all.” Bob smiled and pulled forward the blue plastic bucket filled with swollen water balloons.

Brian felt the sting of regret at the sight of their weapons.

“You’ve got to do it,” Bob said. “You said yourself she’s a witch.”

“You said she’s a witch. Not me,” Brian said.

“Well I should know,” said Bob. “She’s my sister after all, and I’m tired of her putting all these tricks on my friends. Anytime someone comes over she just struts around in her swimsuit and none of my friends know anything anymore. Ya know?”

Bob turned to Brian, but he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were traveling along the surface of those smooth thighs and all he could think about was—

Bob socked Brian in the shoulder as hard as he could.

“Ow!” Brian said in a hushed yell. “Whaddya do that for?”

“You were doing it again!” Bob said. “You didn’t hear a thing I said.” Bob pushed the blue bucket toward Brian. “You’ve got to drown the witch to break the spell,” he said. “It’s the only way.”

Brian looked at the bucket and then back to Catherine. The sun seemed to radiate off her young skin. “Oh, I don’t know—”

“Do it,” Bob said. His eyes were narrow with glare.

Brian crawled out from under the bush and seized a blue balloon in his hand. It was heavy and slick with water. He looked at Catherine and apologized in silence a thousand times. Her hair looked so smooth and fine. She seemed so relaxed lying in the sun and enjoying her magazine.

“Do it!” came a hiss from behind him.

Brian sighed and lobbed the bomb into the air. He made the bad throw on purpose so that the water balloon would burst beside her and alert her to the scene. But as that rubbery ball of blue arced through the air, he saw that his sabotaged throw was painfully on the mark. Instead of falling safely to the side, it fell from that warm summer sky in a trajectory that headed straight for the small of her back.

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