Revenge is a dish best served cold. "And I will have mine". Said the old hag to herself. The brew was hot though, boiling. "They will all regret what they did to me".
She had turned her kitchen into a laboratory. Collected all sorts of strange ingredients from the old forest and one young man to see what she really was capable of.
He was no one in particular. He had been wondering about in the old mushroom forest, her new home.
It had been easy to take him out, he got surprised, and even if she looks skinny; her potions had over the years made her both stronger and faster than a normal human.
They had called her "hag", "witch", "sorcerer", "Shatraug" and other things in different languishes. But she wouldn't cave in that easily. No not her. She know everything they said was false.
If she had only known more back in those days. Then maybe the sick child would still be alive. It wasn't her fault the baby died; the mother was weak and the child so frail.
Without her it was going to die anyway. But they only gave her the blame. The flames from her past still burned bright in her mind. She had almost got tied to a poll and burned to ash.
Instead she had run away from town with pitchforks and axe close at her back.
She was now forced to live in this old bear cave. She had lived in it for years, hating every second of it. What was worse was that they had won! It couldn't end like this. She wouldn't have it.
She would give them a witch, a real witch. So during all these years she had been studying the art of potion and animals. Trying to understand the concept of transfiguration and body.
They shall become frogs she thought. And after years of studies it was time for practice, with a real test subject.
The young man was stripped naked and tied to a big root. They had big roots coming out everywhere in this big mud hole. He could only sit there and await what was to come.
And yes soon very soon he would feel the true power of potion making, an art that can heal and help people in need. However no one wanted that. So she would turn him into a frog.
Or try to at the very least. And if she succeeded she would make more of this brew and spread it in that cursed town that so deserved it.
He was young, maybe seventeen or past twenties, hard to tell. He might have been born the day she was forced to live out here. Didn't care. He was getting it tonight.
She filed a cup with the fine stuff. The main ingredients, boiled tadpole. But she also added in a variety of magic herbs and mushrooms, and some chestnuts to. It was all going down the throat.
He was choking, begging for mercy. "why?". Didn't matter anymore! It was all too late. "I just want to go home". So do I, she thought.
She never answers him. That would have been a waste of time. She hadn't talked to anyone in twenty years and forgot the concept of a conversation. Maybe the brew needed something extra.
She grabbed a live toad from one of her cages and brought it to the boy. "No more, no more" he tried. But she forced the thing down his throat.
No bite, he swallowed alive.
He cough and everything was about to come back up. But the old hag closed his moth with her strong grip and forced her long sharp nails into his cheeks. Forcing it back down as he swallowed.
He was drooling and made strange disturbing sounds. The goal wasn't to kill him, only to make him into a small ugly mindless toad. How hard could that be? But he looked gone.
Eyes wide open like he was staring into the abyss. He just sat there while his saliva ran from his lips. Not moving a limb.
Too much mushrooms maybe. The mix wasn't perfect. Maybe no chestnuts next time? He was alive so she would keep him and try once more another time.
You seldom stumbled upon someone in this part of the forest. She sat guard watching and waiting for something. She poured up some of her favorit pine needle tea.
Horrible ide, that stuff always made her sleepy. But the boy only sat still and lifeless. And while the hours flew by the old lady simply fell asleep.
As her eyelid came down she could see the fire from her old house. And she remembers how she had been running for her life from town.
As the sustenance came to the intestine, the body started to take up its essence. You become what you eat. Food makes you grow tall and strong.
But this was nutrients with the essence to twist and change you. So he grow bigger and stranger. His mass and structure changed more then the rope could handle.
He started to take up more space and pushed things away in all directions. A hard and rough skin he now had.
As his limb smashed into the small cauldron compared to him it flung away with hard heavy sounds.
"What ... what was that"? A voice he could definitely recognize from the corners of night.
The last thing he remembers was something alive gliding down his throat. And that old woman forcing it down. She had a hard and angry look about her.
Like someone who wanted something, more than anything. The taste had been strange. What had he eaten? It was pitch black dark and he couldn't see anything.
Then a small candle illuminated the cave. She sat there in her bed with candle in hand. Her face, it was no longer angry or hard. The face was afraid. And she tried to cover herself.
"What have you done to me", but that sentence wasn't said. He would never make a sentence ever again.
Instead he lashed out his big long tongue. The woman was so small and light, so easily pulled towards his moth.
No bite, he swallowed alive.