100 Theme Challenge #55

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55. Poison

Herbs were slowly infusing the water in the cauldron, their scent perfuming the small wooden shack. Katalina opened a window and the smoke fled outside, vanishing into the forest. It smelled of justice and vengeance. The poison had to boil a few hours before being ready, and then Katalina would transfer the mixture into vials for them to be sold. The liquid would be tasteless, perfect to slip into a beverage or some soup. It was one of her bestsellers, and every week she had to create a new batch to keep up with the demand.

The next morning, customers came to her, in private, told her what they needed and she'd sell them whatever tools of death they needed. People were wary of her, for they knew what she was doing in the depths of her home, but none spoke of it, because they needed her special recipes and voodoo dolls.

Katalina had not always been a sorcerer. Once, she had been happy, with her husband and her baby. He was the love of her life, and they'd been living in a quiet town who tolerated them. Their baby had breathing problems, and they managed her medicine only with his tough delivery job. It was hard, but her family was the center of her life. Until it was no more. Some men in white came one night, for no reason, and kidnapped both Katalina's husband and their baby. She screamed and sobbed for help, but nobody offered, so she searched alone for days. She found his corpse hung on a tall tree, his naked body twisted and almost not recognizable by how badly burned it was, the burns probably happening before his death. She dug a grave for him, and only the hope of finding their daughter kept her from crawling in it with him – or rather, what was left of him. But she never found her, because honestly, what was another black child in a white world?

Over the years, she stopped hoping. She never was able to take vengeance on the people who stole her family away from her, so she wished for death and illness and bad luck and infertility. She sought witches to grant her wishes. They shared their knowledge of the dangerous herbs with her; everything they knew for a soul to meet Death faster than they were intended to.

Katalina would offer her services to help the others achieve vengeance, for she knew how overpowering that need could take over anything else. She was craving blood, bones and screams in the night, because she would never again sing a lullaby to her daughter; she would never again witness her husband's dimples as he smiled. Until she'd join them in the afterlife. Until they could be reunited once more, and forever.

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