The old man lived alone in the woods. His face was creased and it sagged like melted candle wax. He made his own shirts and pants from material that he would trade animal pelts for. What little money he made was spent on store bought shoes and rolling papers.
One day a beautiful woman came to his meager home built from hewn logs and mud. She had deep, brown eyes and radiant, amber hair. She wore a long, sheer dress. It was tight across her chest and her nipples showed through the fabric. The old man tried not to stare.
A single tear tracked down her cheek and neck. “I am lost. Please, sir, can you help me find my way home?”
The old man looked deep into her eyes and his soul puckered. “You and I both know you ain’t lost, witch.”
The woman smiled. Her hair began to shift around her head, but there was no breeze. “I am lost, but perhaps not in a geographical sense.”
The old man spit on the ground. “State your business or be gone.”
“You know my business, dear Winston. I have come for you. All you need to do is take my hand and all of your earthly worries will be gone.”
“You ain’t touchin’ me, devil. Be on your way.”
The woman widened her eyes and frowned. “If you insist on playing hard to get, I will go.” She turned to walk away. Her dress faded to a musty grey and her form shrivelled and withered. She paused and looked back over her shoulder at the old man. “I will be back, and next time you will not be able to resist.”
The old man leaned against the frame of the open door. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see about that.”