Here we go with Brenda Warren’s Sunday Whirl word challenge, where we have 12 words to put together in a piece of prose of poetry. You can find out more and join in here
It was a vicious attack. There was no justice in it, and the cheers only egged him on.
There was no call for such destruction, and the effort made him sway a little as he admired his handiwork.
When he got home, she took a book off the shelf and waited for the dust to settle.
It was no good trying to tell him off, or send him away for a month as it would only start a chain of accusations.
No, sometimes it paid to be a witch, and this way was better. Let him be a spider for a day, to spend hours spinning an intricate web only for some brat to came along and destroy it.
She pushed back the hope that a bird would pick him up and have him for a light lunch.