Write a poem with a twist.
Her footsteps cease.
A small cottage alone in the woods,
tucked away in a white sheen of snow.
Rumors of witches eating children
flutter in her thoughts.
She clutched the man next to her and lifted
a trembling hand to knock
on the painted wood, dark as night.
Crackling from the woods around
almost paralyze her.
Terror she’s never felt
seizes her insides.
Leaping back, the door swings open.
Shadows loom over her.
She steps back
uneasy with the feeling of regret,
but it was too late.
She stared into the eyes of the fate that stood before her: