I had been experimenting, some time ago, with Great Stuff as a filler material for paper skulls. (Never give up on a bad idea.) Great Stuff, for the uninitiated, is expanding, sometimes evil, foam in a can.
To summarize, I used too much, too fast, and it expanded unevenly during the curing process. My experimental skulls collapsed as the sticky ooze did weird things, and I was left with some very scrunched up faces.
Witches, happily, often appear to have scrunched up faces. >ding!<
Thus began our Witch Project.
August in Snug Harbor – The final bake of the season.
Asphalt shimmers and tired leaves droop in the soggy, sultry air. Relief comes in a quick cloud shadow, a short cool breeze. But Sol is relentless and there is much broiling and sizzling to endure before the fall of night.
Finally, though, shadows come out to prowl. From low places they stretch up, reaching for the purple and orange sky. The earth sighs and clicks to herself, cooling after a long, hot day.
Bats wheel and swoop in the watercolor sunset and three familiar night-lights appear. Lanterns among the sparks of stars.
All summer there have been these close and pleasant companions – Venus in the west, Jupiter in the east, and Saturn in the south.
But there have also been three watchers that wait patiently for the hated lights in the sky to shift away.
When real darkness returns, these three are its usher:
Calamity, Pariah, and Infamy.
When angels turn their backs, watch out! Lock your doors, pull the sash, and pray. Pray that thin line of salt across the threshold really does hold power to keep them out, because it’s cold on a broom stick at 10,000 feet, where the thin air stifles the screams of a soul devoured.
These are the Grim Sisters.