The vampire folded her arms and glared at the witch. “Please let me in.” Her invitation had been revoked. Lazily, the witch leaned back in her chair and gazed across the open door’s impenetrable threshold. She stretched, yawned, picked up a feyburn apple from a bowl on a side table, and finally took a generous bite before replying.
Penny P. Post kissed at the air in greeting to the witch, whose green-hued happy blush was lost to the swamp light. She handed her a black rose. “Waiting long?” Zelda K. Arcadia smiled, accepting the gift.
Daylight crept along the land, an unwelcome intruder, lingering just long enough to make itself known before being chased away by blessed night and comforting gloom. An endless cycle.