This is the seventh in Dusty's stories - as you may have noticed, I came up with a numerical theme for the stories and this is number 7.
What else but the Seven Deadly Sins - and the opposing Seven Heavenly Graces - for this story.
As before, I hope you enjoy the story.
pictures from Google free to use search
It was at the large pond on the edge of the wood close to her home that Dusty first noticed the group of women.
Her memory hadn’t been altered to incorporate the legend of the women and she was a little curious – if only because she’d never seen them before and they were distinctive in their dress as much as their number.
Dusty saw Ange, the friend she was meeting, and her attention was diverted from the clutch of strange women. She waved and Ange waved back. Dusty hurried over, Ange seemed a little agitated.
“What’s wrong; has someone upset you?” Dusty asked. Her brow furrowed in concern for her friend.
“No, let’s just get away from the Shudder Sisters, they give me the creeps,” Ange said. Her body gave an involuntary judder and then she pulled Dusty in a general direction of ‘away’.
“The... what did you call them? Shudder Sisters? Who are they?”
Ange turned her head to look at Dusty in astonishment but didn’t stop walking. “Are you serious? You don’t remember the stories from when we were growing up? The weird women, witches probably, children and pets would go missing and all kinds of stuff.”
“No, I don’t remember them at all,” Dusty said and looked back.
She was disturbed to see that the women had all turned around to watch the two girls as they left the park.
“Don’t look at them!” Ange almost jerked Dusty off her feet as she sped up, pulling her friend along.
When they were a long way away, out of the park and out of sight of the group of old women, Dusty slowed down, forcing Ange to wait for her.
“I don’t get it, I don’t remember those women. To me it’s like they appeared from nowhere. Why are you so scared?”
It was true; Ange’s face showed distinct fear.
“I’m not scared; I just remember the stories from when we were little. I can’t understand why you don’t remember them - you used to run away as much as I did,” Ange said in a petulant tone that reminded Dusty of arguments when they were children. It was the tone of her voice she remembered, not the experiences Ange was describing, however.
Dusty studied her friend’s face, she was terrified, it was obvious in her expression, and Dusty saw the exact moment that the Shudder Sisters emerged from the park, far sooner than Dusty would have expected them to. The colour drained from Ange’s face and she looked as though she was going to start crying. Ange grabbed Dusty’s arm again and pulled but Dusty didn’t want to be pulled away.
Ange was far too frightened to stay and Dusty said to her: “Go on, wait for me at the cafe, I’ll be there soon. I promise.”
She gave a reassuring nod at Ange’s unspoken question and Ange turned and fled.
Dusty turned to face the group of little old ladies Ange was so scared of. There was something collectively wrong about them. They may have looked to be weak and frail from outward appearances but Dusty knew only too well that outward appearances were not always an indication as to what was taking place on the inside.
The women scuttled forward, eager to get to their quarry and Dusty allowed them to get close.
They moved surprisingly fast and they surrounded her, taking up the entire pavement. Dusty wasn’t concerned about making the pathway impassable, she had the idea that as soon as anyone saw what was blocking their path, they would cross the road rather than ask them to move over.
The women were shorter than Dusty; even if they had been able to stand straight, they would not have been as tall as her.
Peering from under the brims of their hats, their beady bird-like eyes studied Dusty with voracious interest.
Their claw-like hands reached out to her but never quite touched her before retracting back into the folds of their clothing.
The curious hands reminded Dusty how children dare each other to try and touch a large spider or insect, bravado sending their hand out slowly; but jerking it back out of harm’s way in an instant once their nerve had gone.