The Coral Witch
Issue nine: flash fiction by Andrew Maust
The struggle to garner recognition in the art world is real. And, as many parents know, the trials associated with raising children can impinge on time and energy required for creative effort. This story plays with the familiar tale of an encounter between a girl and a sea witch in Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The little mermaid’. But when an ambitious, full-grown woman takes the place of the dreamy, young girl this story takes a chilling and unexpected twist.
What would you give up to gain precious time for your art? It might be more than you bargained for.
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Her hair was made of seaweed and her teeth were made of coral. Dead, bleached-white coral. When she smiled, you could smell the salt of the sea mixed with the stench of a beached whale that has rotted in the sun for four days straight. Her nails were chipped and ribbed, like cockle shells. The Coral Witch hadn’t changed a bit since I last saw her.
‘I wasn’t expecting any visitors today, least of all you,’ she said, and hobbled over to her old-wood burning stove, rust bulging from beneath the black paint. She lifted a steaming kettle and poured out two cups of tea. Despite her claim, the kettle had been boiling the moment I’d entered.
‘I’m not here to drink tea,’ I said, ignoring the cup she placed in front of me. It smelled like lavender and citrus, but I knew better than to take anything from her.
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