by Tim Law
We ride through the night, my master and I. At witch’s summons we arise from the pumpkin’s patch, sabre drawn and jack-o’-lantern head. We search until our quarry is found and then the race begins.
This part I love the most, the thrill of the chase. We ride across land we know by heart. Soon, like a frightened hare our quarry is cornered. Then thwack, we harvest the head of the witch’s foe and lay it at her farmhouse door.
Then back to the earth and worms we return until we hear the witch’s chant. She summons us once more.
Tim Law heralds from a little town in Southern Australia called Murray Bridge. A happily married father of three, family is very important to him. He works at the local library, surrounded by so many wonderful stories he’s constantly inspired to write.
His general musings can be found at somecallmetimmy.blogspot.com.au/