WALLS
By Michael A. Kechula
“The strangest thing happened to me in my Witchcraft And Religion class,” said Lisa, as we lunched in a coffee shop. “On Tuesday, the prof said we had a guest speaker. A practicing witch.”
“Was she good looking?” I asked.
“She was stunning. All the guys were going crazy over her. Anyway, she started talking about black magic, which she said she didn’t practice. And while she was lecturing, I don’t know why it happened, but I suddenly saw her tied up and burning at the stake. I even heard the flames crackling. All of a sudden she stopped talking in mid-sentence and looked right at me. Her face looked so twisted and distorted. And in the creepiest voice, she said, ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ That scared the hell outta me.”
“Geez, that’s weird,” I said, as chills raced down my arms.
“As if that wasn’t bad enough, she pointed right at me, and suddenly I saw a brick wall rushing toward me. It was as real as the chair I’m sitting on. Just as it was about to smash into my face, I screamed and ran out of the room. I heard her calling to me, ‘Don’t ever try that again!’”
“Wow!”
“I dropped the class, immediately. I’ve been scared ever since. What if she’s pissed, because I sensed that she really does practice black magic? What if she checked the seating chart, or asked the professor my name? What if she finds out I have a baby? Will she hex me and my daughter?”
“I think you better start praying.”
“I haven’t stopped since it happened. I’m telling everybody I know never to take that class.”
Suddenly, Lisa grabbed my arm. “Oh my God! She’s here! She’s standing by the door. She’s staring at me.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll protect you.”
“Well, well, well,” said the gorgeous woman, as she approached our table, “if it isn’t the little lady who wants to see me burned at the stake.”
Lisa blanched, then screamed.
During the pandemonium that followed, I remember the woman pointing at me and saying, “What do YOU see when you look at me, Mister?
“I see you naked on a bed.”
“Good. Look me up. I think you’re hot.”
Then I swear she disappeared.
When the cops arrived, I told them, “When Lisa saw the woman, she screamed. Suddenly her body flew backward about ten feet, as if something had slammed into her. Her face was smashed to a pulp.”
I didn’t tell them what happened in Lisa’s class. Nor did I tell them that the woman pointed at me, asked what I saw, then disappeared into thin air. I didn’t want to spend time on a funny farm in a straightjacket.
Lisa was buried a few days later.
Since then, every night I’ve dreamed about her death. I see a brick wall rushing toward her and smashing her face. But the next dream is about the stunning woman I saw in the coffee shop. I see her in bed in every dream. And I’m right there with her.
The dream about the witch always arouses me tremendously. So much so, I’ve thought about finding out where she lives. But, if we end up in bed together—like in my recurring dream—what’ll happen to me if I look at her lovely face...and see her burning at the stake?
- - -
Michael A. Kechula's fiction has been published in 123 magazines and 33 anthologies. He’s authored 2 books of flash fiction stories: “The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales,” and “A Full Deck of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” Both eBooks available at www.BooksForABuck.com. Paperbacks available at www.amazon.com.
By Michael A. Kechula
“The strangest thing happened to me in my Witchcraft And Religion class,” said Lisa, as we lunched in a coffee shop. “On Tuesday, the prof said we had a guest speaker. A practicing witch.”
“Was she good looking?” I asked.
“She was stunning. All the guys were going crazy over her. Anyway, she started talking about black magic, which she said she didn’t practice. And while she was lecturing, I don’t know why it happened, but I suddenly saw her tied up and burning at the stake. I even heard the flames crackling. All of a sudden she stopped talking in mid-sentence and looked right at me. Her face looked so twisted and distorted. And in the creepiest voice, she said, ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ That scared the hell outta me.”
“Geez, that’s weird,” I said, as chills raced down my arms.
“As if that wasn’t bad enough, she pointed right at me, and suddenly I saw a brick wall rushing toward me. It was as real as the chair I’m sitting on. Just as it was about to smash into my face, I screamed and ran out of the room. I heard her calling to me, ‘Don’t ever try that again!’”
“Wow!”
“I dropped the class, immediately. I’ve been scared ever since. What if she’s pissed, because I sensed that she really does practice black magic? What if she checked the seating chart, or asked the professor my name? What if she finds out I have a baby? Will she hex me and my daughter?”
“I think you better start praying.”
“I haven’t stopped since it happened. I’m telling everybody I know never to take that class.”
Suddenly, Lisa grabbed my arm. “Oh my God! She’s here! She’s standing by the door. She’s staring at me.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll protect you.”
“Well, well, well,” said the gorgeous woman, as she approached our table, “if it isn’t the little lady who wants to see me burned at the stake.”
Lisa blanched, then screamed.
During the pandemonium that followed, I remember the woman pointing at me and saying, “What do YOU see when you look at me, Mister?
“I see you naked on a bed.”
“Good. Look me up. I think you’re hot.”
Then I swear she disappeared.
When the cops arrived, I told them, “When Lisa saw the woman, she screamed. Suddenly her body flew backward about ten feet, as if something had slammed into her. Her face was smashed to a pulp.”
I didn’t tell them what happened in Lisa’s class. Nor did I tell them that the woman pointed at me, asked what I saw, then disappeared into thin air. I didn’t want to spend time on a funny farm in a straightjacket.
Lisa was buried a few days later.
Since then, every night I’ve dreamed about her death. I see a brick wall rushing toward her and smashing her face. But the next dream is about the stunning woman I saw in the coffee shop. I see her in bed in every dream. And I’m right there with her.
The dream about the witch always arouses me tremendously. So much so, I’ve thought about finding out where she lives. But, if we end up in bed together—like in my recurring dream—what’ll happen to me if I look at her lovely face...and see her burning at the stake?
- - -
Michael A. Kechula's fiction has been published in 123 magazines and 33 anthologies. He’s authored 2 books of flash fiction stories: “The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales,” and “A Full Deck of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” Both eBooks available at www.BooksForABuck.com. Paperbacks available at www.amazon.com.
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