The Witch

Dark tendrils exit her finger tips
As if she is commanding the darkness herself
Her blood red eyes flitting around the room
Seeking, searching
For what, or whom?
Then they reach him
Looking intensly at him
She stalks over to him
Taking her time, a predator stalking its prey
Waiting for the right time to attack
He stands there,
Spellbound by her
Frozen, as if his feet are trapped in ice
Terror speads across his pretty face
His dark hair, which was once short, is long and hanging in his eyes
Grease causing his hair to shine
His shirt is soaked with perspiration
The terror painted on his face is unnerving
A man, who had such confidence, is terrified of a girl
Perhaps this is his karma
Coming around to bite him in the ass
Telling him that he should've been more considerate of others
And less of a cocky son of a bitch
When she finally reaches him
Her hand gently, sweetly carresses his face
Showing kindness, before she goes on with her intentions
Her left hand reaches behind her and draws a needle
And plunges it into his vein
Extracting blood for some god forsaken reason
She returns it to her back and saunters away
Keeping him on edge for what is to come...