Page 167 - Musings 2020

chuckle at my weird fantasies and imagination, but the chuckle got in my throat, which was
dry by now. I couldn’t help noticing that the broom wasn’t where it was supposed to be; it
was missing from the corner.

I dashed out of the cottage and looked up and down the path. There was no one to be seen. In
the increasing darkness, I could hear Miss Sen’s laughter, followed by a snatch of an eerily
familiar song:
With the gloomy night around me growing,
And the dreamy moon behind my hat,
You will soon have trouble knowing
Which is the witch and which is the witch’s cat?

Life will be taken over by the death
Pennies would tumble out of your purse
Lovely, don’t you fret,
It’s the Witch's Curse!

There’s no sun on the horizon
Darkness is all that lies
The witch drinks the poison
But guess who dies?

With the gloomy night around you growing,
And your soul in my hat,
You will soon have trouble knowing
Which is the witch and which is the witch’s cat?

Something zoomed overhead making sounds similar to that of a wasp. I looked up and saw
them, silhouetted against the rising moon. Miss Sen and her cat were flying away on my
broomstick. And suddenly, there was a burning sensation in my lungs and my breath was
becoming shallow.

And that is the last thing I remember.

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