The Chapel Hill Witch
A cold wind moans through the misty hollow below Chapel Hill. Echoes of its dry lament drift among rotting logs and forgotten fence rows, a dirge to remind the dead of their current situation. And to the living it is a warning.
Throw salt on the stones,
‘Cross window and sill,
Or she’ll make of your bones,
A soup fit to swill.
Clutch ward and Book,
To shield from the troll,
And pray reaper’s hook,
Won’t snag on your soul!
We set up all of the tombstones, some zombies, and our new witch for a video shoot over the weekend. It will air locally to advertise the 4-H haunt Nightmare at the Fair.
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