Spooktoberfest is a blog hop hosted by Jackie and Dani, and it involves writing a piece of flash fiction. You have to include three words, and you have to choose a picture as a setting. For more details go here - you have until the 28th to sign up! I've included two of the pictures, since mine takes place in both a woods and a cave, and my chosen words are in bold.
The moon hung full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkling through the misty clouds. The black cat sat on the corner, watching, waiting, her yellow eyes glinting in the light from the street lamp above her. A young boy came out of the house nearest to the cat; her ears pricked up, and she watched as the boy hopped down the front steps and put something in the bin in the garden. He noticed her then, and a smile spread slowly across his face. He approached her carefully, stooping down to stroke her gently. She twitched her tail once before setting off down the street, the boy following her as though connected by a piece of string.
The cat scurried through the dense woods on the outskirts of the town, the boy close behind her, tree roots occasionally tripping him, impeding his progress. The moonlight was unable to penetrate the thick canopy of leaves overhead, leaving the forest in darkness. The ground began to slope steeply upwards and they climbed the mountain, soon coming to a stop at a jagged opening in the rock. An owl hooted somewhere above them; it swooped down and disappeared into the cave. The cat slid through the opening after it, the boy close behind, fear etched upon his face.
The cave was large and bathed in a greenish glow which appeared to be coming from the walls. Thick cobwebs stretched across the ceiling, and the floor was littered with jars and bottles full of brilliantly coloured liquids. A huge cauldron stood in one corner, the potion within spewing purple fumes into the air.
The owl was nowhere to be seen; instead there was an extremely old woman dressed all in black, stirring the potion with her back to the boy. The cat trotted over to her and mewed, and the woman turned and studied the boy. Her face was heavily wrinkled, her nose crooked, and when she opened her mouth to speak, he saw black teeth.
‘Thank you, my dear; a splendid catch.’ Her voice was high pitched and raspy, as though she didn’t use it often. She closed her eyes and spoke a few words in a language the boy could not understand. Four skeletons appeared on the dusty floor in the middle of the cave.
The boy’s eyes widened in horror, but he couldn’t move. The old woman turned back to the potion and scooped some of it into a goblet. She hobbled over to the skeletons and poured the potion over them, where it frothed and bubbled, before she once again began to murmur words in the unknown language. The cat was circling the crone and the skeletons, occasionally glancing over at the boy hungrily.
The skeletons rose into the air slowly, and then suddenly they were upright, blank eyes staring at the boy in front of them. The witch cackled as they bore down upon him, taking his life to renew their own.