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March 10, 2008


"She will be missed."

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David: All Oracles Are Bastards

I didn’t believe the old gypsy woman. Truth to tell, I didn’t understand her. It wasn’t just the accent, either. As far as I knew, I would never have cause to miss her.

A few years later, things went bad between us. Between her infidelity and my suspicion over our son’s paternity, it got pretty crazy pretty quick. We dragged each other through court and the mud for years.

I can’t believe she got everything.

I finally understand the gypsy’s words as I lay there, smoke rising from the barrel, looking through the sight at the hole in the door.

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Jim: The Title Is Important

One of the guardsmen looked away and absently flicked a speck from his burnished breastplate while the other guard white-knuckled his pike and said, “See here, old woman. We got orders that all the witches are to leave the village.”

The bent, elderly woman just gave the men a haughty stare.

“I’m s-sorry, g-g-grandmother,” he stammered. “B-but, you see, we have to…”

The crone grimaced.

“Um,” said the first guard. “We don’t want to make trouble, ma’am, but, um, we were specifically told…”

The old witch craned forward. “My name is Griselda Pinlace,” she hissed. “That’s Miss Pinlace to you!”

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