Season of the Witch

Story Sent in by Edgar:

Angela and I were in the middle of a solid first date dinner. We had met online (I wrote her first) and, having had spotty luck with online dating, it was nice to be out with someone who seemed to have her head screwed on straight.

That was before we were in the midst of talking about something benign when she blurted, "Want to meet my sister?"

I looked around, thinking that perhaps her sister sat at a nearby table, watching to make sure that I didn't make any wrong moves. I asked, "Is she here?"

Angela reached into her handbag and pulled out a worn, one-eyed stuffed green frog with the word "sister" hand-stitched in red thread three times, one on top of the other, on its pale chest. She set it on the table, leaning it up against the salt and pepper shakers.

She didn't give me any further explanation other than a vague smile. I asked, "What is this?"

She said, "My sister. Well, not my real sister. She's bound to me through blood, though. She belonged to a friend I used to have when I was younger. My friend died in an accident and her parents gave her to me."

The creepy, one-eyed frog kept its silent watch. I said, "It must mean a lot to you."

"She does," Angela said, "I know my friend is still alive as long as I have her. She comes everywhere with me. I'll be buried with her."

"Hopefully not anytime soon."

Angela replied, "No. I know when, though. She told me. I mean, I still have about 50 years left, but still. Want me to ask her when you die?"

My appetite waned. "No, thanks. I like surprises."

"What if it's tonight? You'd want to know that, wouldn't you?"

"If it's tonight, I'd rather enjoy the rest of my time than worry about exactly when and how it'll happen."

Angela picked up her froggy friend and pressed its face to her ear. Angela giggled and said, "You're tickling me," apparently to the frog, then glanced at me and said, "It's not tonight. It's during the winter, though."

"This coming winter?"

"I don't know, but you'll die during the winter. Have a nice life!" she said as if she was going to up and leave that instant, although she didn't go anywhere.

I thanked her for the information. We continued our chat about this and that, we left the restaurant, she thanked me for dinner, I bid her goodnight, she kissed my cheek, and thus ended one of the strangest experiences of my life. She went off to go creep out some other guys and I went off to go die some winter.


  1. I wonder if the frog really knows when people are going to croak? Is it plausible?

  2. Edgar dies in the winter. That's poetic.

  3. These stories are too awesome.

  4. Yet another ingenious, if not semi-sweet way to blow off your date.

    1. Right. At least she faked so much crazy that he would be convinced it was her and not him.


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