Short Story " 'With this knot I seal this hex
you will not sleep, you will not rest
Knots of anger, knots of hate
Discord brings you to your fate
I tie this second knot makes two
Bringing darkness over you
Slander, discord, evil too
Bringing darkness straight to you
With this third knot, I do bind
Weaving chaos in your mind
Hex of anger, hex of hate
Bring him down, I will not wait'
So mote it be! "
Over the summer John McFadden has noticed a change in his wife. She
has become more protective, thoughtful and secretive.
With a blast that shook the houses, light splattered the night sky
with shards of colour. Children stuffed-full of sweets from trick or
treating ambled around, sparklers flitting in their gloved hands.
Crack snap and wizz! Sizzling spirals shot out of no-where soaring
high then plummeting to the ground leaving a corkscrew of smoke.
Setting off each prize-winning cracker was a tall broadly built figure
who looked every bit like the perfect family man. Each year Mr
McFadden put on the bewildering display of fireworks that made the
local church event look like a puff of smoke. The kids always loved
the show and cheered at the grand finale but his biggest fan was his
own son. He delighted in watching the spectacular display each year
but this time he felt let half let down. His mother, Ella had promised
to be there, gazing in awe with him at the heavens but she wasnt. Not
to be put off he pushed his way to the front, waving avidly at his
father while jumping up and down.
Ella stared, cold and motionless from her position under the bed. The
blow to her head had done her a lot of physical damage but her soul
swayed inside long after her body had died. Never had she expected him
do commit such a deed, especially on their anniversary. In truth he
had not planned it and therefore given her no foresight into; a clever
plan which he did not anticipate would turn sour.
Autumn had blended into winter, the harsh chill of the morning smote
Holly's heart and she shivered, pulling her overall about her. Mr
McFadden's body lay stiff, caked in grime and dirt with blood
congealed around the head. The pathologist was at her wits end at two
o' clock in the morning after Detective Inspector Browning had
directed her to the morgue as part of an "ongoing investigation".
There was no obvious cause of death: no haemmorage, brain trauma or
asphyxiation and no signs of physical damage. 'This is one tough case'
she thought, putting down the scalpel. No difference in the eyes, the
brain looked normal and the organs were of the usual weight and
content so nothing was amiss there. A wisp of hair fell accross her
face and as she pushed it back...