It’s time for this week’s Song Title Challenge.
Write a short piece of fiction, around 300 words, using the song title as your story title but don’t listen to the song. You can pick your own genre or use the one suggested to me. Remember to link back to this post so I can find yours.
This week’s song is Smell the Witch by Mortiis and the genre is Romance. Thanks to (you guessed it) bumblepuppies for the suggestion. (Does no one else read these things? If it wasn’t for him and his unusual musical tastes this challenge would have nose-dived months ago 😀 )
I’m adding an advisory warning for light erotica. If you’re under 16 I’d prefer if you don’t read this, though most twelve-year-olds would probably consider it a bit tame. At least no my conscience is clear…
Smell the Witch
“Hmmm. This is nice.”
She pressed herself closer against his body and breathed in his musky scent. He kissed the top of her head and she tilted her face up to receive the next one on the lips.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked. “That you’ll take me away from here?”
“Every word. I’ll take you somewhere she’ll never get to you. We’ll travel, see the world. There’s so much I want to show you. You won’t believe what’s out there.”
“I think I’ll like that.”
She combed her fingers through the golden fuzz on his chest. A full moon illuminated the room through the open window and a gentle breeze flowed over their naked bodies. She moved her fingers down over his stomach and into the coarser hair below his navel. He groaned as she touched him and pulled her towards him.
He locked his lips over hers. She loved the taste of him as his tongue flicked in and out of her mouth. She rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her as his lips ravished her neck, his hands exploring her body.
Suddenly his body stiffened and he pulled away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, confused. Did she do something wrong?
“Shhh!” he whispered. “I think I hear something.”
“No one but us knows about this place. And mother won’t be back until morning.”
“I think she’s early. I can smell the witch.”
Please let it not be mother, she thought. Not now. Not while my prince is here.
Then she heard the terrible words rising up to the top of the tower, sending her heartbeat into a panicked frenzy:
“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair.”
Copyright © 2014 Herman Kok