The Delivery

Like movies, novels can have trailers too, this is one of them. An introduction to the kind story you can expect when the witch’s malice is released this the fall. And as such, I introduce… the witch.

April 11, 2010

The Delivery

According to the article, Malcolm Gaskill in his book Witchcraft suggests witches don’t really exist. What we know of witches is that they were largely accused people, mostly women, unable to prove their innocence during a period of religious persecution. Dropping the paper onto the table, she smiled.

Bullshit she thought, I should have a chat with Malcolm, nothing like a good douse of fear to prove a point.

Kimberley was waiting, impatiently. She didn’t like to wait, if you said six o’clock, it was six o’clock, not 6:10. She looked out the window and across the street. She could see him, the chubby little man standing on the corner. It was raining and blowing, it didn’t look good on him. He knew he was late.

He would be afraid when he sat down. But, at seventy, we scare easily. The briefcase jiggled as he hurried. It surprised her how easy it was, fear is such a powerful and readily available tool. Real witches know how to get it and how to instill it.

Eddy Nixon stood in front of her on the opposite side of the table at the Blends Coffee House in New Westminster. He bowed, not obviously, just respectfully, he knew she liked that as he asked “May I sit?”

She nodded, he sat and apologized “The rain and the traffic, it was slow” he said.

“Eddy, you have to plan for that” Kimberly said looking directly into his face.

His head hurt, he was uncomfortable, he coughed and pain rushed in. Tears welled in his eyes as he slid the briefcase under the table and over to her side, the pain went away.

“Next time, I’ll plan for it, I promise” Eddy said as sweat broke out on his forehead and drained from his armpits.

“That’s good Eddy, very good. And I’m sure all the money is here” she said.

“Oh yes, it’s all there” he said.

She knew exactly how much was in the briefcase, and he knew, she knew. She liked Eddy, he was reliable, just not always punctual, but reliable.

“You can go now Eddy” Kimberley said.

“Thank you Miss Clarke” he said

Under the table, on the opposite side waited an identical briefcase, he picked it up and left. He would be early next time. The rain continued to pour down, but the traffic had diminished allowing him to cross quickly. He reached for the car door, pain struck, he fell to his knees and screamed “PLEASE” and the pain went away.

Kimberly picked up the briefcase and left, next time he would be early. She smiled.

David Hutchison Writer

David Hutchison, Writer