That man (1-6)

That man with the short legs that lives at the end of the road is always flying around at high speed, confusing people’s arrangements. He’s been ordered down from the sky many times but he just doesn’t listen. Once the police said they’d clip his wings if he didn’t heed their calls. But instead of heeding their calls he simply took to flying at night. I saw him last week when I was dusting the night time tulips, and I’m sure he had a small cat, or it might have been a large rat, hanging out of his mouth. I’m not sure if he ate it.

...

And I saw him again. He was circling slowly above the roof of number thirty-five: the witch’s house. He had something hanging from his mouth. But I couldn’t see what it was this time; probably an animal or some treasure, or something. Spying from behind the partially drawn blind in my bathroom window, I saw him check carefully all around before dropping whatever it was down the witch’s chimney.

…

At the same time each night I saw him performing this strange delivery. He flew in great loops around the street before swooping and eventually landing on the roof of the witch’s house. On the fifth night, when the man was conducting his customary check before dropping his prize down the chimney I’m sure he saw me spying. This weighed heavy on my mind and the panic began to set in. I had to find out what was going on before it was too late.

…

The next day I disguised myself as a fly and flew down the witch’s chimney. I buzzed my way all around the dingy house before finding the spell casting room. In a cobweb-lined cupboard I saw a collection of small animals. But when I heard the witch enter the room I flew over towards the window and watched as she grabbed two kittens and threw them unceremoniously into the bubbling cauldron. Emitting a clichéd cackle as she exited the room, she slammed shut the door none the wiser to my presence.

…

But relief was short lived because my fly disguise had a twelve-hour shelf life. When that time was up I would return to my normal form unable to sneak out of the witch’s house undetected – a situation I was eager to avoid. But one I was forced into accepting, nonetheless. Despite searching high and low for a nook or a cranny from which to escape, none could be found. The twelfth hour passed and with an unpleasant pop I turned back into a human, forced to await the witch’s wrath.

…

My plan to hit her on the head with the chair never really got off the ground: she turned me into a small dog before entering the room. Even when she had strolled casually through the door she didn’t deal with me straight away. Instead she slumped over to the cupboard and rearranged some of her animals and dusted a few of her trophies. She then caught me in the net hidden behind her back and tossed me into the cauldron, leaving me to boil as her syncopated cackle crackled around the room.

...

The end