by
Bobby Derie
"A woman once had four suitors," Grandmother Worm said, as she sat at her knitting. "One she lost to a mermaid, who had risen out of the sea; one she lost to a corpse, which a foolish boy had promised to wed; and one she lost to a witch, who sold his soul in place of her own."
"What about the fourth one?" The little girl at her knee said, holding the ball of yarn.
"Oh, I had to stab that bastard. Wouldn't take no for an answer."
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