Beneath the murky water, a predator lurked. She was old, old enough that she couldn’t remember how long she’d been there. Air and water were the same to her, but she preferred the cover and coolness the water gave her. She twisted her fingers and cast out a line of want. Food, she thought. A meal. Several nearby minnows swarmed her but she brushed them away. She wanted something more substantial. The minnows entangled themselves in her hair, which wasn’t so much like hair as it was Spanish moss and lichen. A minute later, a large snapping turtle noticed the want, which it perceived to be an injured frog. It followed the line of want back to the witch, mouth open to catch the nonexistent frog. Just as its jaws closed, the frog melted away. The witch reached out and snapped the turtle’s neck as easily as it would have broken the bones of the frog. She pulled the shell apart and began to eat.

by Renée Rigdon