The stench of thaumaturgy

Noting the arcane symbol carved into the gnarly oak tree in the massively overgrown yard, Seksan felt his stomach twist, but he was ready. After all, the witch hunter’s talent and enterprise had kept him intact this long.

When he reached the door, it blew open with a blast, and Seksan entered. Predictably, the air was thick with the stench of thaumaturgy.

“Come to the kitchen, Hunter! I’ve been waiting,” called a voice.


This piece of flash fiction was written in response to:

39 thoughts on “The stench of thaumaturgy”

  1. Hello David! Wow, that’s quite an intense and intriguing story you’ve written. The way you describe the atmosphere and setting really transports me into the world of the witch hunter and the arcane. It’s fascinating to see the contrast between the fear and the determination of Seksan, and the ominous invitation from the witch. I’m curious to know what will happen next and how Seksan will confront the witch. Your writing style really captures the tension and suspense of the situation. Keep up the great work! 👍👏👌😊

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