The Crone...5 liters
“You don’t even know me.”
"The old woman cackled then, a few dry barks that choked off in a spasm of coughs. “Sheriff’s whelp, teacher’s pet to the haughty dyke on her hill, apprentice to that miserly doctor until you couldn’t even hack that.”
"Garrett found himself more able to return the old woman’s hateful gaze. He was still busy forming a counter to her words when she continued. “Your father was a bastard, never did right by me or mine, least he was a real man. He met them out in the street, fair fight, one he lost. You though, sneak thief, back biter, you’re as crooked and bent as a windblown sapling you are.”
“So this is about my father? Your problems died with him then.”
“I don’t have problems no more. I’m a ghost. You though, you’re nothing but problems and you’re busy arguing with the dead.”
"The old woman nodded at Lucan, “New boss, weren’t much different than the old ones to me and mine. He took from us, so did the old council, so did men like your father and so did haughty, well off cunts like that aunt of yours. You made your war on us all, drug us into it by killing them and then you burnt up all our food when you still didn’t get your way…”
"Garrett erupted, his back straightened up and his knees pushed into the packed dirt floor as he interrupted the old woman. “They were killing us, all of us! Every able-bodied man they could! They were raping our women, starving everyone out.”
"Garrett hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Lucan standing behind him, “New boss? Are you fraking kidding me? He and his thugs didn’t come here to settle in, they’re not bosses, they’re locusts.”
"The old woman smiled then, showing a mouthful of chipped and rotten teeth. “Guess you aren’t one of them then?”
"Garrett shrugged and let his shoulders slump as he looked at his gaunt, naked body. “No, I’m a locust for sure. Just look at me.”
"The old woman stopped smiling, she let a scowl settle over her face. “Poor little Garrett Gibson. You’re no victim, just an agitator. A book fed worm with paper where your heart should be, just like that aunt of yours. White, black, no room for grey in your world. Heroes, villains, no room for real people in your story. I didn’t live in a book, sneak thief. There was never going to be comfort or luxury in this world for the likes of me or mine. Toil is all I’ve known and I’m tired of toil. Pick up that blade and save yourself, just like you always have and always will.”