Mrs Magpie - by Ameerah Abdulsalam

The village of Ashwood was a place of dark legends and whispered tales, where the wind carried secrets and the trees leaned in to listen. At the heart of it all was Mrs Magpie, an eccentric old woman who lived in a crooked cottage on the outskirts of town. Her house was a mess of twigs, feathers, and tr shiny objects that she'd collected from the villagers over the years. They say she was obsessed with birds, particularly magpies, and would often be seen feeding them crumbs and scraps in the dead of night. The villagers avoided her, but they'd often catch glimpses of her through the windows, surrounded by a flutter of wings and a caze of glittering eyes. One stormy night, a traveler stumbled upon Ashwood, seeking refuge from the torrential rain. The villagers directed him to Mrs Magpie's cottage, warning him to be wary of her eccentricities. As he knocked on the door, he heard a faint whisper, "Come in, come in, I've been expecting you..." she said,, Mrs Magpie greeted him warmly, offering him a cup of bitter tea and a warm fire. As they talked, he noticed the walls were covered in strange symbols, and the air was thick with the scent of decay. She told him tales of the village's dark past, of sacrifices made to the magpies, and of the birds' strange connection to the dead. As the night wore on, the traveler grew uneasy, feeling like he was being watched. He tried to leave, but the door was stuck, and Mrs Magpie's grip on his arm was like a vice. "You're just like the others," she cricked, her eyes gleaming with a mad intensity. "Thinking you can leave Ashwood alive." The traveler struggled, but Mrs Magpie's strength was superhuman. She dragged him to the center of the room, where a circle of magpies perched on the furniture, their eyes fixed on him. And then, she began to transform. Her body stretched and contorted, her skin splitting to reveal a mass of writhing, black feathers. Her face elongated into a beak, and her eyes turned into two glittering jewels. The traveler screamed as Mrs Magpie's true form emerged – she was a magpie herself, a shapeshifter who'd been feeding on the villagers' fears and secrets for years. As the birds closed in, the traveler's world went dark. The last thing he heard was Mrs Magpie's crick, "The magpies are hungry... and you're just a shiny new toy. The traveler's eyes snapped open to find himself in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. He was told he'd been in a coma for months, a victim of a bizarre accident. But as he looked around, he saw Mrs Magpie's face on the TV screen, a news report playing in the background. She was being interviewed, looking exactly the same as she did in Ashwood. The reporter asked, "Mrs. Magpie, can you tell us about your latest experiment?" She smiled, her eyes glinting with madness. "I've perfected the art of lucid dreaming. And Ashwood is just the beginning..." The traveler screamed as he realized he was still trapped in the dream, and Mrs Magpie was the one controlling it all. The screen flickered, and her face filled the room, her beak open in a silent crick. "Welcome to my nest, traveler..."

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