Old Hags and Lovely Witches

Dear Parents of Judgement Hollow.

A bloody, happy day after Halloween to you all. We hope this letter finds you all in rotten health.

Remember us...The witches you burned at the stake. The women who knew the secrets of herbs, the seasons and the moon's gift of her cycles. The same women who helped you birth your children safely. Remember how we tenderly helped and tried to heal your ungrateful, diseased and rotting carcasses.

Guess what...We have awakened and formed a club. It is called "Old Hags and Lovely Witches". Do you want to know why?

Well, when we were alive, we were no more witches than you unwashed, illiterate bunch of arseholes were. But we should thank you...Because in death we learned how to become the best witches we could ever be.

See this picture:

That is us now, in our very own modern day apartment. You have no idea how generous Lucifer can be to anyone wishing to dispense murder, gore, mayhem and general bloody havoc and pandemonium mixed with good fun.

Anyway'''

You will awaken to the alarm of knowing that all of your sweet darling little angels are nowhere to be found.

You will open your door to find a gift on your doorstep. On the top will be this letter to all of those who participated, hunted, cheered on and helped to light the witching fires.

See this picture below:

This is us after we fed. Father Lucifer said we could be anyone we wanted to be. We reject everything about you, our skin now identifies with others who have suffered like we have. And if anyone objects...they can sue us.

See the bubbling cauldron...GUESS WHAT IS COOKING INSIDE OF IT.

Yep. You guessed it. It is filled up with dumplings and all of your little darlings.

We chanted all week before Halloween and on the night we sent all of you parents off to sleep, while your children trick and treated. One chant for you and one to bring dinner walking to our door.

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️Sleep chant

Moon above, silver-bright,

Veil the world in velvet night.

Cauldron cool...candle low,

Let the haunted breezes blow.

Ash of crow and root of yew,

Dreams be dark and visions true.

Spindle spin and spirits creep,

Wrap them in enchanted sleep.

Children stealing spell 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Bat-wing hush and owl’s lament,

Whisper what the stars have sent.

Through the mirror, through the mist,

Steal their children with a kiss.

By broom and bone, by fang and flame,

Forget our faces, forget our name.

Till dawn shall break the binding spell -

We feast beneath the pumpkin’s shell.

Their little bodies dissolved into the stew, so soft and succulent...such a pleasure to our palates.

You may say the sin was your ancestor's. But what fun is it the dead haunting the dead.

Next thousand years, or when we begin to become old hags again....We shall return for more tasty treats.

n.b.

We don't much like bones.

They are already cooked.

Enjoy.