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Voodoo Doll

The dirtiness of the proposition didn't bother Fretoria Sedge. She genuflected in symbolic ash and brimstone as she fashioned the burlap and twine voodoo doll. A touch of hate and a strand of hair from her anxietous benefactor.

She held the doll, poised, black stitches for the eyes and the mouth. The needles pierced the burlap with ease as she cackled a Fretoria curse and a whispering prayer to Belial, the demon of her passionate fervor. Fretoria imagined the man, the man who had rejected her, squirming in agonies of misery. Fretoria wiped her forehead and the beaded sweat that trickled in cascades from her face. "Damnation!" she was hot as she exclaimed her frustration with the sudden heat.

The frayed edges of her black cloak began to smolder and finally she burst into a screaming conflagration, never realizing that there was a price to pay for her devilish greed and bane.

The papers would dub her Fretoria flame the hoodoo priestess after finding her charred bones and the remains of her hateful voodoo doll.

Story by:

Ron Koppelberger

will806095@bellsouth.net

submitted at 10:11am

23 September 2010