Scary Mary
by Michael S.
Collins
They
weren’t evil children, but she swept in to
punish them none the less. She came from the Sky,
on a dark cloudy night, sailing in from parts
unknown like a Demon Goddess. The children had
needed a nanny, a teacher, someone to look after
them while their mum campaigned for women’s
liberation and their dad worked crushing hours in
the local bank.
What they got
was a lesson in terror instead. When Mary
appeared.
She sang
terrifying nursery rhymes, about what happened
when you mixed spoonfuls of sugar, and jolly
holidays. Nightmares abounded.
She terrified
the children with her spells and magic. Her evil
stare.
And then she
killed the parents.
The children
were petrified. Why had Hell’s Nanny stepped
out on their windowsill, umbrella in hand, and
come crashing into their lives?
What reason in
the universe was there for such a visitation?
Wrong genre
symptom.
The children
had sung about the perfect nanny they wanted, but
then due to a mistake in red ink, they’d got
the serial killer witch from another story
instead.
The witch
herself was devastated when she learned she’d
appeared in the wrong story. Completely cut up.
Especially since she was a vengeance witch, and
her victims needed to deserve their fates. Since
she was in the wrong world by slip of pen, none
of her victims had.
Not to worry,
she soon made up for lost time.
“What do
you think of Mum?” said the little girl, one
afternoon, while having tea with Mary and her
brother.
Mary inspected
the mother carefully.
“A nice
try” she said, wistfully.
The little
girl looked upset. Mary quickly changed tack.
“Not to
worry”, she said, “Everyone’s
taxidermy improves with practise.”
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