by Armand Rosamilia
My mother was a witch. Burned alive. I was ten. I’d gone to live with relatives in Brazil after that, but when I was twenty-three I flew back. Where my mother was killed.
I went in search of clues. The apartment we’d lived in was still there, a new family occupying it since I’d been dragged away.
The old woman seated on the stoop had smiled. She remembered me. Told me I was as pretty as my mother had been at my age.
I found her broom, dusty, in the basement. I knew what I had to do now. Revenge.
Armand Rosamilia is a full-time crime thriller and horror author who loves coffee, bourbon and bourbon-flavored coffee. Crime Thrillers. Baseball. Horror. Contemporary Fiction. Heavy Metal. Zombies. http://armandrosamilia.com Also on Twitch, writing live! https://www.twitch.tv/armandrosamilia
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