“Shhh…” He glared at his sister. “Honestly, girls are useless.” The cat turned and looked straight at the children. It hissed, crouched low like a panther. They froze as the old woman turned and looked at the bush where they were hiding. Lank grey hair hid her face. All they could see was the curious brilliance of her eyes.

They barely dared to breathe.

A branch snapped and they ran, diving through the undergrowth towards the fallen stones of the wall. The world seemed to change as they jumped that final hurdle and landed breathless on the tarmac. Neither sunlight nor traffic noise had penetrated the green shadows that separated the old house from the neat gardens of the street.

“She’s just a lonely old woman,” their mother had said, her hands deep in the flour of the baking bowl. “A bit eccentric.” They had waited, eager faces lit with the fire of mystery. “She was old when I was a girl. Had a flea-bitten cat that followed her everywhere. Samael or Samuel. Something like that. Must have died years ago.” It had looked as if she might say more, but she had pursed her lips and frowned in a way they knew was final. “Just stay away. Right away.”

There was no chance of that. They had crept over the wall again and seen her picking herbs in the forested garden. They had heard her muttering to herself and seen the tattered raven perched on the branch by her shoulder. It looked ancient; its eyes gleamed with knowledge, yet its feathers were torn and dusty. Beside it was the moth-eaten cat… black, with great yellow eyes. Listening, both of them. They had watched the old woman hobble back to the house, the long black skirts caught up to carry their harvest, the raven fluttering ahead, the cat at her heels and they had followed, creeping up to peer through the dirt encrusted windows…


“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, officer. I hope you find them.” The policeman smiled back, fascinated by the curiously brilliant eyes and lustrous white hair. Unusual in one so young. “I seldom get visitors…” She laughed and gestured at the glossy feathered raven in its cage and the sleek black cat that wound itself insistently around his ankles. “Perhaps the locals think I am some kind of witch.”

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.
This entry was posted in Birds, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

37 Responses to Familiar

  1. belindacrane says:

    Love it! 🙂


  2. Hansel and Gretl, the rest of the story? Love it. Beautifully done.


  3. davidprosser says:

    Nice story Sue. A clever ending.
    xxx Huge Hugs xxx


  4. barbtaub says:

    Whoa! Move over, Brothers Grim!


  5. KL Caley says:

    brilliant Sue! Loved it!


  6. Mary Smith says:

    Not what I expect amongst my Monday morning emails! Really enjoyed it.


  7. jenanita01 says:

    Where on earth did that come from… but very welcome on this grey Monday morning…


  8. That’s magic, Sue. ☺ Van


  9. Great story,Really enjoyed that 🙂


  10. D.G.Kaye says:

    Love a suspenseful fairytale. Well done! 🙂


  11. Brilliant Sue! And quite unexpected, which adds to the wonderfulness of it all.


  12. noelleg44 says:

    You’ve done it again! I love it!


  13. wen.e.scott says:

    Now, that’s scary…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.