Summer 1876 – The Bride with Sharp Teeth

 

The witch said, “Some – like yourself, child – are born to power. Most of us must make our own.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I am far too old to be called a child. Not by any but my father and grandmother.” 

The witch snarled, “You wear the pretty, pretty face of a girl. When I am done, I will wear that face and none will look upon you and still hold the contents of their stomach.”